As Michelle Pettingall checked the medical supply closet, making sure that it was stocked for what Straus had called an “indefinite stay,” she began to wonder what kind of experiments Straus and his team had conducted in Ward C only a few years before. And she wondered what experiments they were planning on the soon-to-be-arriving new patient.

While “the hub” was an excellent place for doctors to closely monitor each and every movement of the patients who once resided in Ward C, Straus realized that it was also an excellent place to monitor Michelle as she was making her final check of the medical supply cabinet.

“Looking forward to getting to know you a little bit better,” he said to himself as he moved closer to the two-way mirror. “I know all about what your husband did, and I know exactly what he left behind for you to deal with. A pile of dog crap. But don’t worry, Michelle,” he said as he headed out of the hub before his position was realized, “good old Doctor Straus will take care of you.”

Doctor William Straus was made superintendent of Hilburn Psychiatric at the age of only twenty-seven. In his four years as “the boss,” he was focused on finding something, anything that would get his name in lights.

He knew that sacrifices had to be made in order to achieve the greatness that he deserved and felt that if he was going to make sacrifices, others should as well.

“For the betterment of all mankind,” he would say when designing a new treatment plan or adapting one that didn’t produce the expected results.

Today, however, if what Peter Adams had told him was true, was the day when his hard work and countless sacrifices would pay off. If the baby he was expecting would reveal its secrets, William Straus would be a certain Nobel Prize winner, and his fame and fortune would be guaranteed.

“This little freak better be what I am expecting,” he thought as he turned into the stairway and headed back down to the main floor.  Before his feet landed on the final step, his pager vibrated. The caller ID displayed by the tiny screen was from Jacob Curtis’s office phone.

Straus walked into the nearest office he could find to dial Curtis’s extension.

“Jacob, it’s William. I got your message,” he said.

“They’re here.”

“At the docks, I trust?”

“At the docks.”

“Five minutes.”

The budget cuts had hit many NY State institutions hard over the years, and Hilburn Psychiatric was one of those hit. In an effort to cut spending, Straus had fired three of the five employees who manned the loading docks and moved the remaining two to part-time positions.

“Our deliveries, or more precisely, or ability to order things to be delivered is a casualty of budget cuts, I’m afraid,” Straus announced to an all employee meeting less than eighteen months earlier. “We need to respond to these cuts while not jeopardizing the care we provide to our patients. With these cuts and our responsibility to our patients in mind, I have made the difficult decision to reduce our logistics team head count. We will only be receiving deliveries twice per week, and the loading docks will now be staffed only on those two days. Please plan accordingly when ordering approved supplies.

“Thank you for your understanding and dedication to our patients.”

Knowing that the docks would be vacant, Straus instructed Peter Adams to “drive all the way around the institution and follow the signs to the loading dock. I’ll have one of my trusted team members waiting for you there. His name is Jacob Curtis. He will page me when you arrive.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you, William? Peter complimented.

“Mostly everything.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“What the hell took you so long? Henry asked, his gut full of beer.

“It’s a long drive, Henry. And we would have been here an hour earlier if Stanley here hadn’t insisted on seeing where the baby was going to be kept.”

“It didn’t feel right, just dropping the baby off and scurrying off like damn kidnappers. That place gave me the creeps and your friend, Straus, that guy has some issues,” Stanley said before ordering a beer.

“Stanley,” Mark said, “are you comfortable with the arrangements? I mean, are they secure enough?”

“I guess. Who the hell knows,” Stanley said. “I think so. I just don’t trust that Straus character. He was trying to hide his excitement, but he sucks at hiding.”

“What happened?” Henry asked. “Did they find anything out that we missed?”

Peter Adams waited for his single-malt scotch to arrive at the table before answering Henry’s question. “Doctor Straus’s team each examined the patient, and all agreed with our assessment. It has no heart, no more than half of a lung and no reason to be alive.

“Despite Stanley’s reservations, I fully trust William and am very confident that you made the right choice in trusting my judgment. William and his team will have no prying eyes as they figure out the mystery that is keeping the baby alive.” He downed the scotch in one, intentionally delayed, gulp. “And with that, I believe I have fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

“Yes, you have, Peter,” Mark said. “And thank you. Enjoy your sabbatical.”

“I plan to. And, in case you were worried, I’ll arrange for my associate, Doctor Cross, to provide his services full-time at the hospital during my extended absence. Mark, you will, of course, need to move his pay up close to what mine is. Needn’t overlook anything that might raise suspicions.”

“Of course,” Mark said. “Anything else you can think of?”

“Just tell people that I decided to go into private practice. A ‘spur of the moment’ decision. Not that I think anyone will doubt my interest in being on my own, but just in case, let any who are interested know that I am taking time to relax and to prepare.”

“You’re a real dick, you know that, Peter,” Stanley said. “A class act dickhead.”

Ignoring Stanley, Peter extended his hand to Mark, saying, “Continue to have my checks sent to my home address. I’ll alert you to where I will need them sent after I decide where I open my ‘private practice.’”