Outcasts

Chapter 13 - Family

The waiter pulled the bottle of sauvignon blanc from the ice bucket and turned to the restaurant's corner table where a contingent from the Freilinghaus cocktail party had relocated for supper after things at the Central Park South apartment had wound down. He replenished the empty glass of Nan Freilinghaus who was having a conversation with Victor Sykes. Her husband was talking to Helen Carty.

"I was only half kidding," Paul Freilinghaus said, "about holding off on the hoopla till after we've had a chance to buy more of Mavro's paintings."

"And I thought you were a free-market guy," Helen said.

"There's free market and there's throwing it away." He looked past Helen and called to his wife. "Nan?"

She turned from her conversation with Sykes.

"Full charm on that man."

"Absolutely," said Nan.

Sykes smiled at the attention and tried a friendly look on Helen. She gave him an indifferent smile, turned back to her host who was addressing Sykes.

"The numbers we have in mind for Mavro," Freilinghaus said, "I'm sure will put you and your client at ease."

Philip Tierney, who was sitting on the other side of Sykes, leaned in and spoke quietly. "I'm starting to think this might actually work."

Freilinghaus turned to the waiter. "Let's have some champagne."

The waiter bowed and went to comply, squeezing past Sykes who had just gotten a cell phone chirp.

He pulled his phone from the jacket of his new second-hand suit and quietly answered the call. Listened and shook his head."Hold on."

He excused himself from the table and stepped into the vestibule. Turned his back to a group waiting for a table and spoke into the phone. "Sorry, I had to..."

The call was from Janna, who was in a speeding ambulance. "Sykes, something bad's happened..."

"What?" He pressed the phone tighter to his ear. "What do you mean?" Raised his voice. "Janna?"

Janna's eyes darted to two EMS medics bent over a figure stretched on a gurney. "It's Mavro. He racked himself. I don't know if he's alive."

Sykes was already on the move, running out of the restaurant, looking for a taxi. He saw one coming this way and flagged it, still on the phone. "I'm on my way. Tell me where."

After a six minute ride that normally would have taken twenty, Sykes leaning on the driver the whole way, the taxi pulled up at the Bellevue Hospital Emergency Entrance, lurching to a stop behind a flashing ambulance.

The EMS crew was sliding a gurney out of the back, Janna climbing out right behind it. She followed the rolling gurney with its blanket-covered passenger to the emergency room door.

Sykes jumped out of the taxi. "Janna!"

She stopped and ran back to him, pulling him toward the door.

"What happened?" he said.

"I'll tell you inside."

They rushed through the door and caught up to the gurney. The comatose figure on it had an oxygen mask strapped to his face.

A doctor in surgery scrubs broke into a trot beside them. "You with him?" he asked.

"Yes," Janna answered.

"Wait out here and someone will be with you."

She dropped back with Sykes and watched the others speed the gurney down the hall. The doctor pushed through a swinging door into the operating room, the EMS crew rolling Mavro in behind him.