Fired . . . being fired by anyone from any job would hurt. But to be kicked out by Duncan Lathram . . .

Devastating.

She wasn't going to back down, though. Not when she was doing the right thing. But how to explain it to him? From what she could see, the days when doctors could focus solely on their patients and ignore what Washington was up to were gone. Dead as the Jurassic age.

For their patients' sake as well as their own, doctors had to get involved in the process. And any doctor who thought otherwise was a dinosaur, already extinct but simply unaware of the fact.

Sure, she thought. That's it. Tell Duncan he's the best surgeon alive, but he's a dinosaur. He'll definitely want to keep me on then.

Gin forced a smile as she approached Barbara's desk.

"He's expecting me."

"I know, " Barbara said. "He told me to hold his calls." Oh, great.

Gin hesitated at the door, then pushed through.

Duncan's officer was a spacious quadrangle with floor-to ceiling glass along most of the far wall. The last of the morning sun was slipping from the room but still shining brightly on the oriental rock garden and koi pond outside.

Very little of the off-white walls was visible, the few sections not obscured by mahogany bookcases filled with medical texts and surgical journals were studded with plaques, degrees, diplomas, and certificates from licensing and specialty boards. An oversized antique partners desk stretched before the window-wall. A glorious Persian rug covered most of the hardwood floor.

The wall on the far right angled to a large cabinet custombuilt for the narrow corner. Duncan had the cabinet open and stood before it now, his back to her, engrossed in whatever he was doing.

He half turned as she closed the door behind her.

'"Good. You're just in time" He motioned her closer. "Come watch this." A little off balance from the casual greeting, he seemed a changed man since this morning, and more than a little unsure of herself, she complied. As she approached she heard a whirring noise, like an electric drill. When she reached his side she was startled to see what he was up to.

Grinding coffee.

'"Just got these in, ' he said. "Costa Rican La Minita Tarrazu. A superb batch of beans." He dumped the ground coffee into the open end of a chrome funnel set in the top of an insulated carafe.

Gin didn't see any white inside the funnel. "You forgot the filter.

" '"Don't worry. It's in there. I use a gold mesh filter. Paper soaks up too many of the oils that give a coffee its character.

Remember that.

Always use a gold filter. And here's something else to remember." He reached into the little microwave to his left and removed a half-quart Pyrex cup full of steaming water. He took two tablespoons of water and added them to the cone.

"Always wet your grounds first. Give them about thirty seconds to swell, then add the rest of the water. But not boiling water.

You don't want scalded coffee. Bring the water to a boil and let it sit for about a minute, then pour it over the damp grounds. But not just any water. Use spring water. Don't use that chemical-laden junk from the tap." He emptied the Pyrex cup into the cone, then rubbed his . . . . . .

hands in anticipation.

"You're about to have a real experience, Gin. Just possibly the best cup of coffee in the world." He turned to her. "Any news from Marsden's office yet? " "No. I'm not terribly sanguine about my chances. ' Sanguine? She never used that word. Must be Duncan's influence. "My interview wasn't with Senator Marsden, you know. It was with his chief of staff. We didn't exactly hit it off."

"Shot down by the senator's staff, eh? And I guess you didn't get your chance to impress Allard either."

"Hardly. That was some fall he had. Lucky to be In one piece after the way he hit the sidewalk."

"Right in front of the TV cameras.

They've been replaying it all morning on CNN. Too bad." Too bad?

He'd been there, watching, and hadn't helped. Or didn't he want to admit that?

"Had some nasty facial lacerations. Chances are he'll be calling you to fix him up." '"He can save his dime, " Duncan said. "You ought to know by now I don't operate on people who need surgery, only those who want it. By the way, sorry about my outburst yesterday morning. You didn't deserve that." Just like that, Oh, by the way, sorry I damn near gave you a heart attack.

But relief blotted out his offhandedness. The bunched muscles in her shoulders and the back of her neck began to uncoil.

'"You mean I'm not fired? " He laughed. "Hell, no! But I do want to talk to you." His smile faded.

"I want to know why a bright, talented young woman like you wants to get involved with the Harold Vincents and Kenneth Allards of the world.

" Oh, God, she thought as she took a deep breath. Here we go.

'"Somebody's got to, Duncan. They're calling all the shots. But when they want to know what's going on with doctors and medical care, look who they ask, insurance companies, A.M.A officers, public service doctors, VA doctors, whoever's handy." Duncan grimaced with distaste.

"Or even worse, Samuel Fox." Gin nodded. She remembered sitting around with her fellow residents and laughing at Fox's asinine statements during a Donahue appearance a couple of years ago. But he had a knack for PR and had parlayed his alarmist books and press releases into a position of credibility with Congress.

"Exactly. Congress gets its input from doctors who aren't physicians.

" "Stands to reason, ' Duncan said. "Real doctors are out in the trenches practicing medicine. They've got too many sick people on their hands to hang around Capitol Hill."

"Too true. But that's got to change." Duncan's jaw jutted at her.

"Why? " "Because the government's got its sights on health care. The big reform package didn't fly, but that doesn't mean the government's going to go away.

It's going to keep inching in, the old salami-slicing method.

Nothing's going to stop it." Duncan sighed. "Yeah, I know. Don't get me wrong. I'm not opposed to everyone having some sort of coverage. I hate the thought of anyone, especially a child, going untreated. But I loathe the idea of the kakistocracy designing and administering the program, imposing guidelines for medical decisions that should be a matter solely between doctor and patient." His voice took on a TV announcer's tone, " And now, from the people who brought you the House Post Office scandal and the debatable, Health care!

" He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Doesn't it make sense to standardize medical care and costs across the country? " His gaze was hard as steel. "Don't you think we've got enough guidelines already?

" She thought of old Mrs. Thompson at Lynnbrook Hospital. "Well .

.

. " "What this bill will do is enforce cookbook medicine. The real thrust of all this legislation isn't quality assurance, it's cost control.

They'll save a few bucks but the human costs will be huge."

"It doesn't have to be that way. We, " Duncan glanced at the carafe and held up a hand. "Coffee's ready." He lifted the cone from the carafe and placed it in the small chrome sink next to the microwave. Then he filled two thick white diner-style mugs with the fresh, steaming coffee. He handed one to Gin.

"Now this is coffee. Taste." Gin sniffed, the aroma was fabulous, then sipped. Usually she drank her coffee black with a little sugar. This didn't need sugar. The tSavor was so deep, so rich . .

.

"It's . . . " She struggled for words. "It's like I've never had real coffee before. This is amazing." Duncan beamed. "It's worth the trouble, isn't it? An anodyne for weltschmerz. I'll grind you up some beans to take home. But use them soon. And if you use a regular drip machine, never, never, leave the pot on a heater. Always decant the coffee immediately into a carafe. Even the best coffee gets bitter when it's overheated."