The Bird Cage Read Online Free PDF Page B

something for two doctors, on the inside. That guy, Mike, is his boss.” His mind was racing feverishly. Doctors? Medical doctors? Researchers? For a land development company? He wiped his hands on his legs and picked up the phone again, keyed in the first number and reached voice mail.
    “Dr. Sumner, this is an urgent message.… ” He could hear the desperation in his own voice as he gave the same information he had told Mike—his name, number, emergency, intensive care, critically injured mother. He disconnected. Without pause he called the second number, and repeated the message on Dr. Wooten’s voice mail.
    “Now we wait,” he said when he put the phone down again.
    Jean woke with a jerk, sat upright, confused, then remembered. At eleven they had gone to bed, she in a room across a hall from Trevor’s. Several times during the night she had come awake, once getting up to check, make certain he was still there. And now it was six in the morning. When she looked across the hall, he was sitting on the edge of his bed.
    Together they went to the kitchen and he put on coffee. “Hungry?”
    “Not yet. Later. I have to go home, shower, change my clothes.”
    “Me too,” he said. “We’ll eat something afterward. I can’t call them again before nine, I guess. There’s plenty of time.”
    She drove to her apartment, talking all the way, and he sat in her living room while she showered. She left the door open and he listened to make sure the water got turned off. They didn’t linger any longer than necessary, then back to his house where she sat listening in the living room while he showered and dressed.
    This is how it’s going to be , she thought bleakly when he emerged. She went to the kitchen with him, to stay nearby while he scrambled eggs and made toast.
    Neither had anything to say as they ate breakfast.
    At eight-thirty his phone rang. Dr. Sumner was returning his call.
    “I have to see him,” Trevor said. “My brother. Where is he? He has to know about our mother.”
    “Mr. McCrutchen, I’ll give him your message, and as soon as possible, he’ll get in touch.”
    “What does that mean? As soon as possible. Dr. Sumner, I’ll get the police to open up that place, wherever it is. What have you done to him, with him?”
    There was a long pause, then Sumner said, “I’ll come to your place. We can talk. Half an hour. Give me an address.”
    When Trevor disconnected he said furiously, “He’s coming here. So help me God, if he stalls, I’ll have the cops take over!”
    Grace had listened to Trevor’s frantic call twice, then deleted it. Earlier she had adjusted one of the drugs, and she waited to see if the spike had been affected. At ten minutes after nine, on schedule, there it was, increased activity where there should not be any. Wearily she started the temperature adjustment. It would be a long, slow process to bring him up to normalcy. She knew as little as she had known when she started on her new young subject. Now it would depend entirely on his subsequent tests and his overt behavior to determine if he had suffered any ill effects that could be detected without an actual brain examination under the microscope.
    Trevor opened the door to admit Dale Sumner. He looked to be in his forties, with receding dark hair, mild blue eyes, laugh lines at his eyes, a slightly stooped stance. And he looked worried, harried. His handshake was surprisingly strong.
    “That’s Jean Biondi,” Trevor said, leading Sumner into the living room where Jean was standing by the sofa. “Look, Dr. Sumner, I have to talk to my brother. Our mother is critically hurt and he has to know. That’s the bottom line here.”
    “Mr. McCrutchen, please calm down. If your brother is working with Dr. Wooten on a special project, it may not be possible to reach him immediately, but I can assure you he’s not in danger, not in trouble—”
    “What do you mean if he is? Why don’t you know if he is or isn’t? Who’s Dr.