Shall We Tell the President? Read Online Free PDF Page A

elevator took them gradually,
grudgingly, to thefourth floor. A man on crutches and a woman in a
wheelchair shared the elevator, chatting to one anotheras though they
had a lot of time to spare, obliviousto the slowness of the elevator.
When they arrived at the fourth floor, Calvert walked over to a nurse and asked
for the doctor on duty.
    ‘I think Dr Dexter has gone off duty, but
I’ll check,’ the staff nurse said and bustled away. She didn’t get a visit from
the FBI every day and the shorter one with the clear blue eyes was so
good-looking. The nurse and the doctor returned together down the corridor. Dr
Dexter came as a surprise to both Calvert and Andrews. They introduced
themselves. It must have been the legs, Mark decided. The last time he had seen
legs like that was when the Yale Cinema Club had shown a re-run of Anne
Bancroft in The Graduate. It was the first time he had ever really
looked at a woman’s legs, and he hadn’t stopped looking since.
    ‘Elizabeth Dexter, MD’ was stamped in black
on a piece of red plastic that adorned her starched white coat. Underneath it,
Mark could see a red silk shirt and a stylish skirt of black crepe that fell
below her knees. Dr Dexter was of medium height and slender to the point of
fragility. She wore no make-up, so far as Mark could tell; certainly her clear
skin and dark eyes were in no need of any help. This trip was turning out to be
worthwhile, after all. Barry, on the other hand, showed no interest whatever in
the pretty doctor and asked to see the file on Casefikis .
Mark thought quickly for an opening gambit.
    ‘Are you related to Senator Dexter?’ he
asked, slightly emphasising the word Senator.
    ‘Yes, he’s my father,’ she said flatly,
obviously used to the question and rather bored by it - and by those who
imagined it was important.
    ‘I heard him lecture in my final year at
Yale Law,’ said Mark, forging ahead, realising he was now showing off, but he
realised that Calvert would finish that damn report in a matter of moments.
    ‘Oh, were you at Yale, too?’ she asked.
‘When did you graduate?’
    ‘Three years ago, Law School ,’
replied Mark.
    ‘We might even have met. I left Yale Med
last year.’
    ‘If I had met you before, Dr Dexter, I
would not have forgotten.’
    ‘When you two Ivy Leaguers have finished
swapping life histories,’ Barry Calvert interrupted, ‘this Midwesterner would
like to get on with his job.’
    Yes, thought Mark, Barry will end up as
Director one day.
    ‘What can you tell us about this man, Dr
Dexter?’ asked Calvert.
    ‘Very little, I’m afraid,’ the doctor
replied, taking back the file on Casefikis . ‘He came
in of his own volition and reported a gun wound. The wound was septic and
looked as if it had been exposed for about a week; I wish he had come in
earlier. I removed the bullet this morning. As you know, Mr Calvert, it is our
duty to inform the police immediately when a patient comes in with a gunshot
wound, and so we phoned your boys at the Metropolitan Police.’
    ‘Not our boys,’ corrected Mark.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ replied Dr Dexter rather
formally. ‘To a doctor, a policeman is a policeman.’
    ‘And to a policeman, an MD is an MD, but
you also have specialties - orthopaedics, gynaecology, neurology - don’t you?
You don’t mean to tell me I look like one of those flatfoots from the Met
Police?’
    Dr Dexter was not to be beguiled into a
flattering response. She opened the manilla folder.
‘All we know is that he is Greek by origin and his name is Angelo Casefikis . He has never been registered in this hospital
before. He gave his age as thirty-eight. . . Not a lot to go on, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Fine, it’s as much as we usually get.
Thank you, Dr Dexter,’ said Calvert. ‘Can we see him now?’
    ‘Of course. Please follow me.’ Elizabeth
Dexter turned and led them down the corridor.
    The two men followed her, Barry looking for
the door marked 4308, Mark looking at her legs. When