Abandoned: MIA in Vietnam Read Online Free PDF Page B

closed slowly, pinching off the racket completely. “Did you know I was coming?” Wolfe asked.
    “The volunteers are required to phone us when someone asks about any of the executive staff by name,” Gundersen said. “We haven’t had any violent incidents yet, but you never know when an angry family member or jealous husband might show up. We’ve had security stop several people over the past two years. One psyche patient thought he was a terrorist.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind next time I visit,” Wolfe said smiling. He followed Gundersen to the cafeteria. “Next time I won’t stop at the desk and ask directions.”
    Gundersen shrugged. He said, “Won’t matter. Without the proper pass, you won’t be able to get into the executive suite. And if you tailgate someone through the door, you will still have to pass through the metal detector and the scrutiny of the security team. That’s what they are building.”
    “Why?”
    “Homeland Security suspects all hospitals are potential targets. In general, we are undefended. Vulnerable. Besides they gave us a lot of money to do it. I got a new office out of it,” Gundersen said, wicked grin on his face. “Of course, it went with a promotion.”
    “You must be doing well,” Wolfe said.
    Gundersen opened a door in the rear of the cafeteria. The two men stepped into the executive dining room, used by the physicians and administrators. “We’ll talk over lunch. I assume that’s why you came at this time of day?”
    “I need to get out of the house more often,” Wolfe said. “This is the second invitation to lunch I’ve had today. Thanks. I am hungry. I’ll join you, if I can pay my own way.”
    “Sorry to disappoint you, Addison, but the meals are free for us, the docs, and the guests we bring.”
    Wolfe shrugged, “Guess I can’t fight city hall.”
    After working their way through the cafeteria line, and finding a seat at a far table in front of an enormous window, the two men sat. They enjoyed the view of the Matanzas River, Old St. Augustine, and the Flagler Campus. For about thirty minutes they rehashed the demise of After Hours , the rise of Healing Arts in one of its proposed locations, and the unsolved disappearance of Sarafea Seville. For fifteen of those minutes Gundersen outlined his non-medical career and rise to glory as marketing director, and his most recent promotion.
    Wolfe listened with one ear, watching as patrons finished eating and departed, thinning the number of possible eavesdroppers. When at last the two were alone, Gundersen finished eating while Wolfe filled him in on how boring retirement was. Gundersen checked his watch and started to stand as Wolfe finished his monologue with how the older twins and his two younger kids were doing. Gundersen never had a feel for kids, just wives.
    “Got to go, Addison. Even a star like me has to earn his living,” Gundersen said as he started to rise.
    “Before you go,” Wolfe said. “Tell me about the attempted murder.”
    Gundersen sat down again quickly. He looked over his shoulder, and answered curtly, “Can’t discuss it,” he said.
    “Do you know who can?”
    “Nobody. CEO said it’s a dismissal offense for anyone caught talking to the media.”
    “I’m not media,” Wolfe said.
    “Do you have a personal interest in the case?” Gundersen asked.
    Wolfe explained the possible connection. “I want to find out if this is related to the Jimmy Byrnes I knew.”
    “Why? That’s what, forty some years ago?”
    “About that long, 1967. He was a good friend. I recently found out he is dead. For me, it’s as if his death recently happened. I’d like to know if he’s the guy in the note. If not, I know all I need to know,” Wolfe said.
    “Well, what if he is your buddy from the navy? What then?” Gundersen asked.
    “Don’t know. Maybe when the police find their person of interest, they’ll let me talk with him to see what he knows. There’s a chance Jimmy was murdered.