Max stared into the middle distance. “I see,” he said. “My doctor’s name is Carlyle Benson; I’m sure my housekeeper’s told you. Would you kindly summon him?”
“Your housekeeper did inform us of your doctor’s name and the fact that you would want him – but he is not affiliated with this hospital and so-“
“Then move me to a facility with which he is affiliated,” Max interrupted.
That at least wiped the smile off Dr. Schofield’s face. “Mr. Lestrange you have to know that you are very weak right now and not in any position to be moved,” he said in a more subdued tone than he’d been hitherto using. “It would not behoove you to try and do so. At least wait until you’re stronger.”
Max glared at him, wanting to punch him in the face but truly feeling too weak to move. He hated it, this weakness; and it scared the hell out of him. What had happened to him?
“Have you checked my system for drugs?” he asked.
“It's one of the tests requested,” Dr. Schofield said. “If you can be just a little patient we should know in an hour or two what ails you.”
“An hour or two?” Max exclaimed in disbelief.
“We ordered extensive tests sir,” Dr. Schofield said.
Max just glared at him, wanting to get out of bed, possibly hit something; preferably the good doctor. But he just lay back in defeat and stared at the ceiling.
“Martha, did you bring my bed clothes?” he asked.
“Yes sir, right here,” Martha said placing a pair of pajamas on the bedside table where Max could see them.
“Can I at least change out of this mortifying gown?” Max asked the doctor.
Dr. Schofield opened his mouth to explain hospital policy but then closed it again. This level of politics was above his pay grade. “Sure,” he said and walked out of the room together with the nurse so that Max could change. As soon as they were alone, Max relaxed.
“Martha what happened?” he asked.
“You collapsed at the fight sir,” Martha begun at once. “The casino called an ambulance and the mayor called me. They had already brought you here to this hospital by the time I could get here. I called Dr. Benson and he arrived to check on you but they only allowed him in as a professional courtesy but they said he could not treat you because of that affiliation thing. He said to call him as soon as you woke. I’ve already sent him a text.”
“Good girl. Anything else?” Max asked.
Martha shook her head. “Everything is under control sir. Whitby is handling the press, Constantine has informed the board of what is happening.”
“What’s he telling the press?” Max wanted to know.
“No information at this time,” Martha said.
Max nodded. “That might not be the best strategy for the stocks. Ask him to change that to a bad case of the flu.”
“Yes sir,” Martha said taking out her phone to text Whitby.
“Where is Andrea?” Max asked.
“She’s taking care of canceling or rescheduling appointments sir. She should be here this afternoon.”
“Right. Good.” Max said.
“Also, your mother called,” Martha said tentatively.
Max was silent, staring at the ceiling.
“She…wanted to know how serious it was,” Martha said.
Max turned to look at her. “What did you tell her Martha?” he demanded.
Martha shrugged her ample shoulders. “I told her the doctors didn’t know. She asked me to keep her informed.”