“Just be careful,” Laurie said. “Something strange is going on. I’m just not sure what.”

Jordan didn’t need Laurie to remind him to be careful, not after Cerino’s threat to crush his hands. And now this news that five of his patients had been murdered and another one dead, possibly also murdered. It was too much.

Preoccupied with this bizarre yet terrifying set of circumstances, Jordan got up from the chair in the surgical lounge of the Manhattan General Hospital and traipsed into the OR. He wondered if he should go to the police and tell them about Cerino’s threat. Yet if he did go to the police, what would they do? Probably nothing. What would Cerino do? Probably what he threatened. Jordan shivered with fear at the thought and wished that Cerino had never walked through his door.

As he scrubbed his hands, Jordan tried to think of why five and possibly six of his patients would be killed. And what about Marsha? But try as he might, he couldn’t think of a reason. Holding his hands in the air, he pushed into the operating room.

Surgery for Jordan was a cathartic experience. He was relieved to be able to lose himself in the exacting procedure of a corneal transplant. For the next few hours he completely forgot about threats, mob hits, Marsha Schulman, and unsolved homicides.

“Wonderful job,” the junior resident commented after Jordan had finished.

“Thank you,” Jordan said. He beamed. Then, to the nursing staff, he added: “I’ll be in the surgical lounge. Let’s turn the room around as soon as possible. The next case is one of my VIPs.”

“Yes, your Highness,” the scrub nurse teased.

Walking back to the surgical lounge, Jordan was glad that Cerino was next. He just wished it was already over. Although complications were rare for Jordan, they did occur. He shivered to think of the consequence of a postoperative infection: not for Cerino, for himself.

Gripped by his scary thoughts, Jordan was oblivious of his surroundings. And when he sank into one of the armchairs in the lounge and closed his eyes he hadn’t noticed the man sitting directly across from him.

“Good afternoon, Doctor!”

Jordan opened his eyes. It was Lou Soldano.

“Your secretary told me you were up here,” Lou said. “I told her it was important that I talk with you. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jordan sat bolt upright and his eyes nervously darted around the room. He knew Cerino had to be close, probably in the holding area at that moment. And that meant that the tall gaunt fellow would be around someplace. Cerino had insisted on it, and the administration had agreed. Jordan did not relish the idea of Cerino’s man seeing him with Lou Soldano. He didn’t want to be forced to explain it to Cerino.

“Certain facts have come up,” Lou continued. “I’m hoping you might have some explanations.”

“I have another operation,” Jordan said. He started to get up.

“Sit down, Doctor,” Lou said. “I only want a minute of your time. At least at the moment. We’ve been puzzling over five recent homicides which we have reason to believe were done by the same person or persons, and the only way we have been able to associate them so far, other than the manner in which they were killed, is that they were your patients. Naturally we’d like to ask you if you have any idea why this has happened.”

“I’d just been informed about it an hour ago,” Jordan said nervously. “I haven’t the slightest idea why. But I can tell you there is no way that it could involve me.”

“So we can assume they have all paid their bills?” Lou asked.

“Under the circumstances, Lieutenant,” Jordan snapped, “I don’t think that is a very funny comment.”

“Excuse my black humor,” Lou said. “But guessing how much that office of yours had to cost and knowing you have a limo-”

“I don’t have to talk with you if I don’t want to,” Jordan said, interrupting Lou and again motioning to get up.

“You don’t have to talk with me now,” Lou said. “That’s true. But you’d have to talk with me eventually, so you might as well try to cooperate. After all, this is one hell of a serious situation.”

Jordan sat back. “What do you want from me? I don’t have anything to add to what you already know. I’m sure you know much more than I.”

“Tell me about Martha Goldburg, Steven Vivonetto, Janice Singleton, Henriette Kaufman, and Dwight Sorenson.”

“They were patients of mine,” Jordan said.

“What were their diagnoses?” Lou asked. He took out his pad and pencil.

“I can’t tell you that,” Jordan said. “That’s privileged information. And don’t cite my mentioning the Cerino case to Dr. Montgomery as a precedent. I made a mistake talking about him.”

“I’ll be able to get the information from the families,” Lou said. “Why don’t you just make it easy for me?”

“It’s up to the families to tell you if they so choose,” Jordan said. “I am not at liberty to divulge that information.”

“OK,” Lou said. “Then let’s talk generalities. Did all these people have the same diagnosis?”

“No,” Jordan said.

“They didn’t?” Lou questioned. He visibly sagged. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Jordan said.

Lou looked down at his blank pad and thought for a moment. Raising his eyes he asked: “Were these patients related in some unlikely way? For example, were they customarily seen on the same day, anything like that?”

“No,” Jordan said.

“Could their records have been kept together for some reason?”

“No, my records are alphabetical.”

“Could any of these patients have been seen on the same day as Cerino?”

“That I can’t say,” Jordan admitted. “But I can tell you this. When Mr. Cerino came to see me, he never saw any other patient nor did any other patient see him.”

“Are you sure of that?” Lou asked.

“Positive,” Jordan said.

The intercom connecting the surgical lounge to the OR crackled to life. One of the OR nurses told Jordan that his patient was in the room waiting for him.

Jordan got to his feet. Lou did the same.

“I’ve got surgery,” Jordan said.

“OK,” Lou said. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

Lou put on his hat and walked out of the surgical lounge.

Jordan followed him to the door and watched as Lou continued down the long hallway to the main hospital elevators. He watched as Lou pushed the button, waited, then boarded and disappeared from view.

Jordan’s eyes swept the hallway for Cerino’s man. Stepping across the hall, he peered into the surgical waiting room. He was encouraged when he didn’t see the gaunt man anyplace.

Turning back into the surgical lounge, Jordan sighed. He was relieved that Lou had left. The meeting with him had left Jordan feeling more rattled than ever, and it wasn’t only because of the fear that Cerino’s man would see them talking. Jordan sensed the detective didn’t like him much, and that could mean trouble. Jordan was afraid he’d have to put up with the man’s annoying presence in the future.

Stepping into the men’s locker room, Jordan splashed his face with cold water. He needed to pull himself together to try to relax a moment before going into the OR and doing Cerino. But it wasn’t easy. So much was happening. His mind was in a turmoil.

One of the thoughts that was particularly disturbing was that he’d realized there was one way that the five homicides were related, including Mary O’Connor. He’d realized it while Lou Soldano had been talking with him, but Jordan had chosen not to say anything about it. And the fact that he had so chosen confused him. He didn’t know if the reason he’d not mentioned it was because he wasn’t sure of its significance or because it scared him. Jordan certainly did not want to become a victim himself.

Walking down toward the operating room where Paul Cerino was waiting, Jordan decided that the safest course of action for him was to do nothing. After all, he was in the middle.