You freely acknowledge your culpability in these above matters, and further acknowledge that any breach of the points agreed to above will result in your immediate dismissal from the Group, without appeal, and may result in further criminal and civil proceedings, as may be appropriate.

Very truly yours,

Timothy G. Markham

Parnassus Medical Group

Embarcadero Center

San Francisco, California

Dear Dr. Kensing:

In view of the fraternal rather than militant approach that I've suggested the Group take in helping you deal with your problems over the past couple of years-and over some high-level objection, I might add-I'd like to personally request that you consider tempering your critical remarks, both to your colleagues and to the press, about our various internal policies regarding the drug formulary. I am not trying to muzzle you or interfere with your right to free speech in any way, but I believe you're aware of the financial difficulties we're encountering in many areas. We'd like to keep the Group solvent so that we can continue providing the best care we can to the greatest number of our subscribers. We're not perfect, of course, but we are trying. If you have specific suggestions for improvement or disagreements with Group policy, I will be happy to discuss them with you at any time.

Sincerely,

Timothy G. Markham

Parnassus Medical Group

Embarcadero Center

San Francisco, California

Dear Dr. Kensing:

It has come to my attention that you intend to appear on the public affairs television program Bay Area Beat. Let me remind you that the several medical committees on which you sit with the Physicians' Group have confidentiality arrangements with the Health Plan. I will interpret any breach of this confidentiality as grounds for dismissal. As a personal note, you are aware, I am sure, of the critical negotiations we are conducting with the city at this time. I find your public appearances and negative comments about some of the Group's policies to be singularly ungrateful and morally unconscionable, particularly in light of the Group's leniency and compassion toward you in other areas in the past.

Very truly yours,

Malachi Ross

Chief Medical Director and CFO

Parnassus Medical Group

Embarcadero Center San Francisco, California

Dear Dr. Kensing:

If you don't want to prescribe Sinustop to your allergy patients, of course that is your prerogative and your medical decision. But it is a useful drug, and I have approved its inclusion on the formulary. Your continued efforts to undermine the Group's profitability by questioning my decisions are inappropriate. I have been patient with you long enough on these matters. The next event will have disciplinary repercussions.

Malachi Ross

"Where did you get these?" Hardy asked Jeff Elliot. He flipped through the pages he held, maybe twenty more of them. They were at the counter at Carr's, a nondescript and-due to the new Starbucks around the corner-possibly soon out-of-business coffee shop on Mission by the Chronicle building. "Especially this first one. Jesus."

A twinkle shone in Elliot's eyes. "As you know, Diz, I can never reveal a source."

But Hardy didn't have to think very hard to dredge it up. "Driscoll. Markham's secretary."

Elliot's eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. Hardy knew he would rob Jeff blind at poker. "Why do you say that?"

"He's come up a few times. He's fired, right, and probably saw that coming in advance. So he e-mailed his files home in case he wanted some leverage for later. Or just simply to screw somebody for the pure joy of it."

Elliot scratched at his beard. "Without either denying or admitting your guess as to my source, he's a reporter's dream. Vindictive, gossipy, craves attention. He probably gave me five hundred pages."

"All on Kensing?"

"No, no." Elliot laughed at Hardy's panicked response. "No, as far as I can tell, on the whole world at Parnassus."

"Does Marlene Ash know about them?"

"She'd be trying to get them if she did, although of course I couldn't give her any of it, either. I did tell him, though-my source, I mean-that if he wanted to keep any kind of exclusive control over its use, he might want to download it onto disks and put it someplace special, where Marlene or Glitsky wouldn't think to look for it."

"And yet you've got it here."

"I know." Elliot grinned. "Sometimes I like my job."

Hardy picked up his spoon and stirred his coffee. "Anybody could have just typed them, you know. They might not be authentic."

"You're right. Maybe they're not. But somebody would have to type really fast to get all this since last week."

Hardy accepted this. In fact, he had no doubt that the letters were genuine. They'd never be accepted as proof of anything in court-not without hard copies and signatures-but this wasn't the law. This was journalism and Jeff could decide to accept them if his source was credible enough. "So what are you going to do with them?"

This was the crux and they both knew it. Jeff had called Hardy as a courtesy because Hardy was Kensing's lawyer. In view of the intense interest in nearly everything to do with Parnassus since Markham's death, Elliot told him that Kensing's substance abuse problems constituted real news. "On the other hand," he said, "the heat's kind of gone up under the Loring thing. If there's a serial killer at Portola, that's going to trump Kensing every time. I don't really want to run this, Diz-I like the good doctor and it would ruin his day-but if it turns out to be important, I won't have a choice."

"What could make it that important, Jeff?"

"How about if he was high when he was working on Markham in the ICU?"

Hardy had to admit, that would do it. "Has anybody said boo about that?"

"No. But I'll tell you something. If my source actually read most of these pages and thinks about it enough, I predict it's going to come up."

Hardy shook his head, marveling at the capacity for simple meanness in some people. Eric Kensing was only one doctor out of two or three hundred at Parnassus, but he'd unfortunately crossed Driscoll. Perhaps more importantly, he committed the cardinal sin of dissing the boss, with whom Driscoll identified heavily.

But a fresh thought surfaced. Driscoll might have a far better reason to impugn the characters of Kensing or anybody else than wanting to punish them for real or imagined past slights. He might simply want to keep people from looking at him.

"What are you thinking?" Elliot had been watching him.

Hardy covered. "Nothing really, except whether you're going to tell me anything about the other four hundred and ninety-five pages."

"I haven't gotten to them. I can only read so fast. The Kensing letters popped up pretty quick and I thought I owed you."

"As well you did, so now if you do me another favor, I'll owe you, right?"

Elliot considered, nodded. "Maybe. What?"

"If you hear some more rumors from your unnamed source about Kensing's sobriety a week ago Tuesday, don't run the story until you get it confirmed someplace else."

"I don't think the letters are rumors, Diz."

"I didn't say they were. But I've got something that isn't a rumor, either. Maybe we could trade."

When Hardy finally got back to his office at about 3:30, he was both gratified and depressed by the delivery of more discovery on the Markham case from the Hall of Justice. It was nice that Glitsky had moved into a more cooperative mode, but he could do without another six hours of tedious reading material. But he opened the box, pulled out its contents, and placed them in the center of the blotter on his desk. Glancing at his phone, he saw that he had two messages.