The Naked Face

"Let’s blow," said Rocky.

The doctor watched the two men leave. Then he turned to Judd, who lay on the stretcher, his face white and haggard. "Are you all right, Judd?" His voice was filled with deep concern.

Judd tried a smile that didn’t come off. "Great," he said. He could scarcely hear his own voice. "Thanks, Pete."

Peter looked down at his friend, then nodded to the two interns. "Let’s go!"

Chapter Eighteen

THE HOSPITAL ROOM was different, but the nurse was the same. A glaring bundle of disapproval. Seated at his bedside, she was the first thing that Judd saw when he opened his eyes.

"Well. We’re up," she said primly. "Dr. Harris wants to see you. I’ll tell him we’re awake." She walked stiffly out of the room.

Judd sat up, moving carefully. Arm and leg reflexes a bit slow, but unimpaired. He tried focusing on a chair across the room, one eye at a time. His vision was a little blurred.

"Want a consultation?"

He looked up. Dr. Seymour Harris had come into the room.

"Well," Dr. Harris said cheerfully, "you’re turning out to be one of our best customers. Do you know how much your stitching bill alone is? We’re going to have to give you discount rates… How did you sleep, Judd?" He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Like a baby. What did you give me?"

"A shot of sodium luminol."

"What time is it?"

"Noon. "

"My God," Judd said. "I’ve got to get out of here."

Dr. Harris removed the chart from the clipboard he carried. "What would you like to talk about first? Your concussion? Lacerations? Contusions?"

"I feel fine."

The doctor put the chart aside. His voice grew serious. "Judd, your body’s taken a lot of punishment. More than you realize. If you’re smart, you’ll stay right in this bed for a few days and rest. Then you’ll take a vacation for a month."

"Thanks, Seymour," Judd said.

"You mean thanks, but – no, thanks."

"There’s something I have to take care of."

Dr. Harris sighed. "Do you know who make the worst patients in the world? Doctors." He changed the subject, conceding defeat. "Peter was here all night. He’s been calling every hour. He’s worried about you. He thinks someone tried to kill you last night."

"You know how doctors are – overimaginative."

Harris eyed him a moment, shrugged, then said, "You’re the analyst. I’m only Ben Casey. Maybe you know what you’re doing – but I wouldn’t bet a nickel on it. Are you sure you won’t stay in bed a few days?"

"I can’t."

"OK, Tiger. I’ll let you leave tomorrow."

Judd started to protest, but Dr. Harris cut him off.

"Don’t argue. Today’s Sunday. The guys who beat you up need a rest."

"Seymour…"

"Another thing. I hate to sound like a Jewish mother, but have you been eating lately?"

"Not much," Judd said.

"OK. I’m giving Miss Bedpan twenty-four hours to fatten you up. And Judd…"

"Yes?"

"Be careful. I hate to lose such a good customer." And Dr. Harris was gone.

Judd closed his eyes to rest a moment. He heard the rattle of dishes, and when he looked up, a beautiful Irish nurse was wheeling in a dining tray.

"You’re awake, Dr. Stevens." She smiled.

"What time is it?"

"Six o’clock."

He had slept the day away.

She was placing the food on his bed tray. "You’re having a treat tonight – turkey. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve."

"I know." He had no appetite for dinner until he took the first bite and suddenly discovered that he was ravenous. Dr. Harris had shut off all phone calls, so he lay in bed, undisturbed, gathering his strength, marshaling the forces within him. Tomorrow he would need all the energy he could muster.

At ten o’clock the next morning Dr. Seymour Harris bustled into Judd’s room. "How’s my favorite patient?" He beamed. "You look almost human."

"I feel almost human," smiled Judd.

"Good. You’re going to have a visitor. I wouldn’t want you to scare him."

Peter. And probably Norah. They seemed to be spending most of their time lately visiting him in hospitals.

Dr. Harris went on. "It’s a Lieutenant McGreavy."

Judd’s heart sank.

"He’s very anxious to talk to you. He’s on his way over here. He wanted to be sure you were awake."

So he could arrest him. With Angeli home sick, McGreavy had been free to manufacture evidence that would convict Judd. Once McGreavy got his hands on him, there was no hope. He had to escape before McGreavy arrived.

"Would you ask the nurse to get the barber?" Judd said. "I’d like a shave." His voice must have sounded odd, because Dr. Harris was looking at him strangely. Or was that because of something McGreavy had told Dr. Harris about him?

"Certainly, Judd." He left.

The moment the door closed, Judd got out of bed and stood up. The two nights of sleep had done miracles for him. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but that would pass. Now he had to move quickly. It took him three minutes to dress.

He opened the door a crack, made sure that no one was around who would try to stop him, and headed for the service stairs. As he started down the stairs, the elevator door opened and he saw McGreavy get off and start toward the room he had just left. He was moving swiftly, and behind him were a uniformed policeman and two detectives. Quickly, Judd went down the stairs and headed for the ambulance entrance. A block away from the hospital he hailed a taxi.

McGreavy walked into the hospital room and took one look at the unoccupied bed and the empty closet. "Fan out," he said to the others. "You might still catch him." He scooped up the phone. The operator connected him with the police switchboard. "This is McGreavy," he said rapidly. "I want an all-points bulletin put out. Urgent… Dr. Stevens, Judd, Male. Caucasian. Age…"