Chapter 36 Section thirty-fifth

Rayan Badan clutched the receiver of the phone as if his life depended on it.He sits in the kitchen at the small square table that serves as a dining, reading, puzzle and bridge table.This evening, there was nothing on the table but a drinking glass.He had filled his glass with tap water so that he could reach it when he was thirsty.He knew that when he started talking he might be too scared to hold back a word. Since Chatterjee's death, he has been continually reducing his needs, removing the trivial things that most people live with, even if he thinks they are necessary.Now, he lives a simple life like a monk.

The small two-room apartment he lived in was at the intersection of Cole and Frederick, a few steps from Portola Hospital.The apartment consists of a small, dark bedroom and a slightly larger - though no one would say it is large - kitchen.The only entrance to the house is a single door without any entryway.Its own frame is just outside, and it was painted directly with reddish plaster, and the original color can no longer be distinguished now.The door was painted with a layer of cracked and peeling red lacquer, and it looked like it had been randomly pasted on the floor of this fourth-floor apartment. It may be the retro style of a talented painter with a sense of humor. Playful.Because of the slope of the street in front of the building, most of the apartments were actually below street level, so they were perpetually cold, dark and damp.

Rayan didn't mind that. The rent control program will keep the rent on this place below seven hundred dollars for at least several years.He has a hotplate for cooking rice and a jar of curry powder.The plumbing in the room was actually pretty good, there was always hot water available for the kitchen sink and a good sized shower.Toilets are flush.A plastic-covered kitchen worktop rests against a windowless front wall, under which is tucked a half-refrigerator that holds enough vegetables for a week, and sometimes longer.There is also a portable heater that can be used to help warm up the house during the coldest part of the morning.

Now, when the phone rang for the first time, he was wearing a yellow traditional Muslim dress and leaning his head up to a window to look out.Outside the window, it won't be dark for another hour, maybe longer, but the shadow cast by the building where he lives has already enveloped the place like a huge cloak at dusk.From the point at which a couple laughed past the window, and he could make out the outline of their legs as they passed, the lower edge of the window was no more than twenty inches above pavement level. The muscles around his mouth twitched, either from tension or because the laughter had touched some feeling in his memory.A tiny movement on the plastic-topped console drew his rapt eye to a cockroach crawling across a chessboard on it.It's been a year now, and he's been enjoying the game, which Chatterjee's father sent over by post from Derry.He is thinking about how to play the next two moves, maybe in less than a month, he will be able to force the king chess into a stalemate, and for a long time the situation seems to be that he will be checkmate.He thinks stalemate is far better than victory—and he feels that those who disagree with him miss the point.

The phone rang again.He held the receiver in one hand, and with the other hand he rubbed the textures of various patterns on the surface of the square table, which was a personal hobby of his.He's always liked wood—he and Chatterjee furnish their apartment mostly with teak furniture from Scandinavian furniture makers' shops here.Inexpensive and durable.He loves how well made they are, how they feel to the touch, and how beautifully textured they are.At that time, they used a kind of sandalwood oil to wipe the furniture. Although a long time had passed, he could still smell the pleasant smell when he fell into meditation.

But he has changed now, many years later, and the table seems to have changed with him--for a game of bridge, it has now had some dark hardwoods added to it, and it has been transformed into a Kind of herringbone shape.The right-hand corner of each side is equipped with a pull-out drawer that players can pull out to place drinks on.Every four weeks, he hosts his bridge team at home, and the other three poker mates rave about the durable design. "Hi. This is Ross's." "Hello. Is Dr. Malachy Ross home, and if he is, please call me." "Can I tell him who is looking for him?"

"My name is Rayan Badan. He may not know me, but please tell him I am a nurse in Portola Hospital ICU. He may remember the name. I have something urgent to talk to him .” "Please wait." Another wait.Rayan Badan closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind.He spoke in such a way that no one could sense that he was afraid or nervous at all.He was just conveying information and proposals to the other party, as simple as that.He sat on the chair, straightened his back, took a deep breath straight to the dantian, and kept it there until it warmed up before he could release it slowly.He took a sip of water, swallowed it with a gulp, and cleared his throat.

"This is Dr. Ross. Someone is calling again. Please speak." "Dr. Ross, this is Rayan Badan of Portola Hospital. As you may recall, I was in the ICU with Dr. Kenson when Mr. Markham died. I'm sorry to call you home." "How did you get my home phone number?" he asked. "I didn't register." "You can find it if you need it—if you know where to look." After a brief silence, Rose's voice sounded slightly cautious. "Okay. How can I help you? My maid said you need me urgently." Layan reached for the water glass again and took a quick sip. "That's right. I need to talk to you frankly. Is it convenient for you to talk?"

Rose's tone was already a little domineering. "What's the matter?" "It's something we have to discuss." "Aren't we talking now? But I'm afraid I don't have much time to listen to you. My wife and I are leaving the house in a few minutes. If it can wait—" "No! I'm sorry, but this can't wait. It has to be done now, or I'll go and speak to the police myself." Rose hesitated, then said, "Wait a minute." Layan heard his step away, the sound of a door being shut, and then steps back. "Okay, I'll hear you now. But hurry up."

"As you probably already know, the police are now investigating the deaths of several patients in the intensive care unit, which they are calling murder." "Of course I've heard. I run the company and have been following the matter closely, but it has nothing to do with me personally." "However, I'm afraid it has something to do with me, doctor. The police have spoken to me more than once. I was the only nurse on duty when the deaths occurred. I think they'll conclude that I killed the patients. " He heard Ross gasp on the other end of the phone.Then Rose's voice came on the phone. "If you did that, you wouldn't get an iota of sympathy from me."

"No, I wouldn't count on it. Only if they accuse you of killing Mr. Markham or anyone else, you'll get sympathy from me." This interruption of conversation lasted several seconds. "What are you talking about?" "I think you understand what I'm talking about. We wouldn't be talking if you didn't know what I was talking about. I see you." "What do you see in me? I don't understand what you're talking about." "Listen, doctor, listen to me," Layan said, feeling his throat on fire and reaching for water, "we don't need to waste time in denial. We've run out of time Yes. However, I have a suggestion for you." "Really? It's very interesting. You obviously have an astute mind, Mr. Bataan. I'd be interested to hear what advice it is, though your premise is fatally flawed." "If that's the case, we'll see. That's all I have to say - you remember four months ago, the first day after Christmas, when you dropped into ICU. Not unfamiliar? I was on that shift, and there was a patient there named Shirley Watlers." "And do the police think you killed her? Is that so?" Rayon ignored his question. "But you and I were there. I keep a diary every day, and I remember that. You and I also had a nice discussion about working during the holidays. People don't like to work during the holidays, but sometimes it's Better than staying home and doing your family obligations and listening to what is expected of you. You probably remember." "Maybe there is, but what's your opinion? Was it the day after Christmas? I can't remember." "But you will definitely remember, you know it in your heart." "I'm going to hang up now," Ross said. But he didn't, and Layan continued. "I certainly didn't understand what you were doing at the time. It wasn't until the police told me the names of some of the other patients who died that I realized you were there for all of them and that you did those things. "I feel like an idiot, really. Maybe I'll find out sooner or later, but a guy who goes to my place a lot, even suggests you should... what are you doing? I'm not even a doctor Know what you are doing. "And who's to say it's wrong to take these patients out of their misery, even though I've always thought so? Nobody's even questioned those deaths before, so while everyone's taking them for granted , how can I have trouble with you?" Layan's articulate words grew faster and faster, and he forced himself to slow down. "Then when I saw you touch Mr. Markham's IV, I thought I must have seen something I shouldn't have seen again. I didn't want to know. I was too scared to utter a word. Then I got scared , because I didn't speak up sooner. My biggest concern right now though, is because I know if I sue you, you'll sue me in turn. I'm in that hospital, though, not for all these murders, but for you Yes, because you did it." The words had come to an end, and he closed his eyes to gather the strength to end his speech. "So I beg you, doctor, please. You must tell the police that I was with you when these patients died. You will be my alibi. And, of course, I will Is your alibi witness." "You're not serious, are you?" Rose's tone sounded a little blunt, full of suspicion, and even a little angry. But he's still on the line.Layan had heard something akin to the growls of those who are beaten in bridge games when they realize they've lost the game completely. "You don't surprise me at all, Mr. Bataan. Are you sure that's all you want?" "No, not exactly. I'm afraid I'll have to leave the country soon. So I need another fifty thousand dollars, please have it ready. Give it to me this evening, in cash." Panic is the devil, unsettling. Ross firmly believes that the hallmark of a smart person is not to take desperate risks.He sometimes thought it was his great talent to sense the despair of others. He told Nancy that there was an urgent matter in the office, and some things about the accounting audit needed to be done.Yep, even on a Friday night, these guys have been working.He had to attend, but he would make it up to her.Tell Salwais he's sorry—he'll make it up to him for canceling their dinner date at the last minute, and maybe send the family on vacation to the Tahoe next weekend in their own private jet. He went into his office, locked the door tightly, and pulled out only one-tenth of the money from his safe, a pitifully small wad of banknotes.This guy Badan... He shook his head, as if he laughed at this person's innocence, and didn't take him seriously.Does he know what fifty thousand dollars can do?For most people -- those who don't know the value of money -- that's another problem.If it were Ross, that amount would be ten times what it is now, and the price would have to be negotiated.But maybe Bataan was really shrewd in doing so.If he accuses Ross, Ross will surely accuse him in turn, but that would raise awkward questions about why he didn't speak up sooner. For a while, he stood there motionless like a stone statue, trying to remember something.He was alone in that room the whole time.He was certain of that.Badan never came in until he was done.Could it really be possible that he saw him from the hallway?Saw him without being seen? If it's not like that, then there's a big problem.There was no way he could run the risk that Bataan would report to the police out of panic even after taking the money.Or rather than panicking, he was determined to ask for more money.Or did something stupid to betray the two of them together. And if Bataan was bluffing, if he really didn't see that Rose had rigged that bit, it would still be just as bad for him.He actually presents an excellent opportunity to tackle an increasingly difficult problem. By tomorrow morning, the bills would be back here, though he would lose the gun he called Bond.There was no doubt that the Walter PPK pistol his father had picked up by chance one night in a downtown gutter had for him and ended up in his hands.He loved the secret guilt it gave him, the thrill of personal power. Kara has mentioned this already. "I know what you've been doing all this time," she had told him in the hospital that morning.He was almost certain she was referring to his second source of income, the kickbacks.But it could also mean something else, the patients.He had a feeling that Tim was getting closer to this problem.Check out the dates of his visits to that hospital, and ask questions that he no doubt considers sensitive. The car accident threw Kara into panic.And there's a frenzied, unshakable determination beneath that panic.There was nothing wrong with her being hysterical about to lose her mind when he walked toward her in the corridor of the ICU.Seeing her husband smashed to pieces, piped up and unconscious had sent her mind into a tizzy.Rose walked over to her, ready to give her a comforting hug, and then to say some comforting formulas of condolences and mutual support.But when her eyes turned around him, there was always madness and despair. "Do you dare to insult me ​​with your hypocritical sympathy?" "Carla, what are you talking about?" "Whatever happens here, you don't have anything to do with us anymore, Mal, and all of that. Do you think that's going to free you up and do whatever you want? You think it's going to be the end?" He tried again to calm her down, placing a hand on her arm in a soothing gesture. "Don't touch me! You're not our friend. Don't you ever lie to me again. You're not Tim's friend. You never were. Do you think you haven't told me what you've been up to? Well, now I Got it all, and I won't forget. Whatever happened to him, whatever happened! I swear to you, I'm going to break you. That's what he wants, he's going to take the company from you to break it Saved from everything I've done, and it's the last thing I'm going to do anyway, and I'll see it happen." "Karla, come on. You're distracted. You don't know what you're talking about." But she's still babbling hard, sealing her own death sentence. "Even if Tim doesn't get through this, I think I have an obligation to go to the board of directors, and even go to the police to clear his name behind him." After this unabashed threat, did she think he wouldn't make a move?Could she imagine that he wouldn't?If he doesn't act quickly, boldly, and without mercy, he is doomed. Knowing the situation and what he had to do, Ross first had to disarm her.He squeezed her hands tightly into his own.At this moment, they were face to face and their eyes met. "Carla, let's not talk about these things yet. Let's get Tim through this together. I've made mistakes and I'm sorry for them. But we all make mistakes. I promise you, we will Solved. If I have to leave, that's fine. But never say it has anything to do with our friendship. Nothing can hurt our friendship, even a little bit. It's forever. " The plan itself was thoughtful and seamless.Potassium doesn't leave any traces, and the autopsy report from that hospital is definitely superficial, formal stuff.If the medical examiner hadn't done an autopsy on Tim's body—something that Rose never expected to happen—the whole plan would have been a success.He realized that if he could make it look as if Carla was deranged enough to kill herself and her family, the police would never be looking for a killer for it.He'd do it with the gun Tim kept in his office. When he got to Tim's house, the upstairs lights were out.He hoped the kids were fast asleep so he wouldn't bump into them.He would do that quietly.They won't notice anything, won't have any doubts, they just fall asleep on their own. But Carla was in the door, and at first she was reluctant to open it for him. "There's nothing to talk about, Mal. We're too tired to say anything. We can meet tomorrow." But she couldn't stand his soft and hard paws, and she finally compromised. "Please, Kara. I know Tim must have told you something, but we're working it out, like we always do. I love this man. I need an explanation. I need you to understand this." "There's nothing to understand." "Then at least I need you to forgive me." She hesitated one last time, then removed the chain.Once inside the door, he took the Walter out of his pocket and told her they needed to go quietly to the back room of the house. Now he's going to do it all over again.He already has experience.It made it look like a suicide, and it had to be made to look like Bataan chose it after learning of the situation in which the police blamed him for all the murders in Portola, including Markham. A cowardly way out.That would end all investigations. He also had to make sure no one heard the shot, and he figured the Walter would be louder than Tim's .22. First, he'd have to distract Bataan, and then he'd have to chloroform him to immobilize him while he wasn't looking.It's just that chloroform will remain in his body for a certain period of time, and it will be detected.Maybe ether would be better?He had ether in his medicine bag.That's fine too.And of course he could have just shot him and made it look like an attempted robbery or something.But it would have been better to show it as a suicide together.He had to consider his options while driving to his destination, and then adapt to the situation. Bataan obviously thought the police would catch him at any moment, so he wanted $50,000 tonight.He had taken the risk, and was taking the risk.He is destined to do stupid things and make some dangerous decisions. For example, like Tim.He couldn't figure out Tim's.While the two of them have been hard at work getting the company up and running, there's always been plenty of opportunity to sneak around and take advantage of it.Of course that was nothing compared to what it is now, and a lot of it was in the form of soft money and perks.Those weekends in Napa or Mexico, those boozy drinks, those impromptu escorts for medical convention parties when their wives weren't around.Tim succumbed to the temptations and kept pace with him.But in front of the first real money bribe, he was terrified.He doesn't think it's right to do this, but to Ross, it's no different than what they've been doing all along.Actually, it's better this way. But Tim always wanted to believe that he was an honest and kind person at heart.that fool.That's how he put himself through all the troubles with the admittedly sexy Ankensen.Ross couldn't believe that this guy almost ruined his life in what was at least supposed to be a really fun flirtation.However, this is not the case, and he also said that he was just "in love".Whatever he meant by that, he was an idiot, an idiot.He wasn't stupid enough to convince himself, though, that just because he, Tim, had decided not to take anyone's ill-gotten gains, Ross would do the same.Of course, Tim himself had a little bit of a bad conscience in those years, and told Ross that they had to stop—not just because it threatened the health of patients and the future of the company, but because it was simply wrong. of.Ross pretended to agree with him.Why not keep doing that?Why bother with this self righteous idiot?Why split that money with someone who doesn't want it?Ross understood that the truth was that he wasn't actually hurting any patients by charging those nasty drug dollars.If Tim wanted to see that Ross had found as much conscience as he had, he'd let him enjoy the daydream. But then, even as Tim lay sleeping next to his wife and found out that Ross had been savvyly figuring out how to fill out those deceitful statements of account, couldn't believe his longtime partner and medical director was still doing the deceit and continue to collect kickbacks.His self-righteous sense of justice sickens Rose. Tim was a complete hypocrite, wringing his hands desperately in front of Ross, pretending to be embarrassed-what should he do?What should he do?This had gotten his attention, and a whole bunch of stuff like that had been said.Doesn't Ross understand?Tim had already asked him.He's crossed that line, now Tim has to do something, has to do something about what he's done.The kind of emotional conflict made him suffer like a heart-rending torment-Ross had been his friend for a long time.A whole lot of nonsense was babbled about the close relationship between their families. But even in the face of this blunt threat, Ross remained calm and told Tim that if he felt compelled to publicly accuse him of crimes, Ross would have no choice but to expose him too. .Then next, they will both be destroyed, and who will benefit from that? At this point, things have reached an impasse. But he knew in his heart that Tim was a time bomb to him, and it might explode anytime.He'll eventually press him on the issue again, and of course Rose will fend him off again.This situation is exactly the same as the situation between Ann and Kara. Once Ann presses, Kara parries once.Rose isn't panicking, though.He will wait calmly and calmly while Tim is hesitating and not knowing what to do. If the situation does not change and it is as usual, then Rose will eventually have to find a way out of the predicament. solution, a permanent solution. And then Tim was delivered suddenly into his hands, already on the brink of death, and it only took one nudge like that without a single person to see to send him on his way. He kissed Nancy good-bye at the door and told the children to stay home.Standing in the circular driveway, he decided instinctively to drive the old Toyota.Bataan's house was in Hayes, and he didn't want to drive any nice car over there, it would only serve as a magnet for those who took pleasure in vandalizing public or private property.The old green car would keep him out of the spotlight, and that was what the situation demanded. He threw his briefcase on the seat next to him and drove into the traffic, adjusting the position of the sun visor to block the oncoming sun.At this time, the sun has already pierced through the thin layer of clouds on the horizon, covering the streets and alleys of the city in a golden afterglow.