Chapter 21: Grand Rounds

The Grand Rounds auditorium holds three hundred people, and at five to nine it held three hundred and twelve.

They stood along the walls.

They sat on the stairs.

Word had gone around the hospital.

I stood in the wings, behind a black curtain, in a clean white coat, with my notes in my hand.

My hands were steady.

That surprised me.

"You look like a person who is about to give a presentation," said Benji, at my elbow.

"Is that good?"

"It's unsettling."

He had a headset on and a laptop under his arm.

He'd spent twenty minutes in the AV booth, arguing with a technician about passcodes, and he'd won by bringing a plate of Dolores's cookies.

"Remote's in my pocket," he said. "Slides are on the wall. Mic works."

"What about the board chair?"

"Second row, aisle. Silver bob, legal pad, face like a cliff."

"And Pembrey?"

"Front row, center. He brought a coffee and a smile."

I peered around the curtain.

The man sat with his legs crossed, in a fresh quarter-zip and his gold lanyard.

He looked at the crowd.

Beside him sat a thin man in a good grey suit whom I did not know.

"Who's that?"

"His friend," said Dolores, appearing on my other side with her clogs in her hand. "The one who wants the chair."