A Brain Read Online Free PDF

minutes. They’ve called for the patient. We just haven’t had anybody to send with her.”
    â€œOkay,” said Philips, already starting back across the patient-holding area. “When Mannerheim wants his localization X rays, call my office directly. That should save a few minutes.”
    As he retraced his steps, Martin remembered he still had to shave and headed for the surgical lounge. At eight-ten it was almost deserted since the seven-thirty cases were all under way and the “to follow” cases could not hope to begin for some time. Only one surgeon was there talking on the telephone to his stockbroker while absentmindedly scratching himself. Philip passed into the changing area and twirled the combination to his foot-square locker, which Tony, the old man who took care of the surgical area, had allowed him to keep.
    As soon as he had his face completely lathered, Philips’ beeper went off making him jump. He hadn’t realized how taut his nerves were. He used the wall phone to answer, trying to keep the shaving cream from the receiver. It was Helen Walker, his secretary, informing him that William Michaels had arrived and was waiting for him in his office.
    Philips went back to his shaving with renewed enthusiasm. All his excitement about William’s surprise came roaring back. He splashed himself with cologneand struggled back into his long white coat. Passing back through the surgical lounge, he noticed the surgeon was still on the phone with his broker.
    When Martin reached his office he was at a half run. Helen Walker looked up from her typing with a start as the blurred image of her boss passed by her. She began to get up, reaching for a pile of correspondence and phone messages, but stopped when the door to Philips’ office slammed shut. She shrugged and went back to her typing.
    Philips leaned against the closed door, breathing heavily. Michaels was casually leafing through one of Philips’ radiology journals.
    â€œWell?” said Philips excitedly. Michaels was dressed as usual in his ill-fitting, slightly worn tweed jacket, which had been purchased during his third year at M.I.T. He was thirty but looked twenty, with hair so blond that it made Philips’ look brown by comparison. He smiled, his small impish mouth expressing satisfaction, his pale blue eyes twinkling.
    â€œWhat’s up?” he said, pretending to go back to the magazine.
    â€œCome on,” said Philips, “I know you’re just trying to rile me. The trouble is that you’re being too successful.”
    â€œI don’t know what . . .” began Michaels, but he didn’t get any further. In one swift motion, Philips stepped across the room and tore the magazine from his hands.
    â€œLet’s not play dumb,” said Philips. “You knew that telling Helen you had a ‘surprise’ would drive me crazy. I almost called you last night at four A . M . Now I wish I had. I think you deserved it.”
    â€œOh, yeah, the surprise,” teased Michaels. “I almost forgot.” He leaned over and rummaged in hisbriefcase. A minute later he had pulled out a small package wrapped with dark green paper and tied with a thick yellow ribbon.
    Martin’s face fell. “What’s that?” He’d expected some papers, most likely computer print-out paper, showing some breakthrough in their research. He never expected a present.
    â€œIt’s your surprise,” said Michaels, reaching toward Philips with the package.
    Philips’ eyes moved back to the gift. His disappointment was so acute it was almost anger. “Why the hell did you buy me a present?”
    â€œBecause you’ve been such a wonderful research partner,” said Michaels, still holding the package toward Philips. “Here, take it.”
    Philips reached out. He had recovered from the shock enough to be embarrassed about his reaction. No matter how he felt he