“No,” Marcum interrupts, releasing my arms and turning to face the river. “I’ll do it,” he says, looking out over the horizon. “I feel it is my duty to help those whom I’ve taught help people.”
“Dr. Marcum?”
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“Here’s what I need you to do,” he says. He turns to look at me, but he doesn’t finish the thought.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask.
“That’s exactly the kind of question you should be asking,” he says.
Okay, I think I can safely say this guy’s a few kernels short of a cob.
“What I need you to do,” he says, “is I need you to give me your scans — they have the altered dates, do they not?”
“They do,” I tell him. “They’re back in my car.”
“Not now,” the doctor says. “You can’t be too careful.”
“All right,” I say, wondering if this guy is actually a doctor or just another plant like the guy at the table.
“Okay,” he says, “let’s go.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I really don’t think that you’re the kind of person I want to have involved in something like this. I appreciate your time, but it’s just not going to work out.”
I start walking away, but before I’ve made it 10 feet, behind me I hear the doctor giving the slow clap.
I turn around, and he’s standing there with a smile on his face.
“Very good,” he says.
“You’re out of your mind,” I tell him.
“No,” he objects. “I was just having some fun with you. Churchill told me that you were expecting some big subterfuge, and I thought I’d make it happen.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say, searching his face for any sign that this is just another ruse.
“In all seriousness, if you just get me the scans, I think we’re good to go.”
“Who was the man at the table?”
“I just paid a guy in the restaurant 20 bucks to sit at your table and ignore everything you said,” he answers. “I thought it was a nice touch, don’t you?”
“This whole thing was seriously just an act? You’re an ass,” I tell the doctor, but I’m laughing all the same.
“Churchill told me that he gave you both the films and a flash drive with the digital files. Is that correct?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “He also said that you and I should get to know each other a little bit so if anyone asked one of us about the other, we wouldn’t-”
“Sounds like Churchill’s the one who’s getting paranoid,” Dr. Marcum says. “Do me a favor and tell me how much you know about the doctors you’ve met throughout your life — Dr. Churchill notwithstanding, of course.”
I think for a minute.
“Not that much,” I tell him. “The conversation’s never really been that personal.”
“Exactly,” he says. “The only one in a doctor-patient relationship that has any substantial knowledge about the other in any given situation is the doctor, and the information he has is almost exclusively regarding the patient’s symptoms or their diagnosis. Churchill gave me his notes on your file, and once I get those scans, I’ll have just about all I need to know.”