Chapter 10 — No Exceptions

I answered the review coordinator before leaving the waiting area.

Identify every installation using that configuration. Arrange direct contact with each hospital’s technical team. I want the initial list this morning.

Cassie watched me send it.

“How many could there be?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Will you tell me when you do?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, then rose when a nurse came through the doors.

Walter was upstairs now, awake and asking for his glasses. We followed the nurse to the elevator.

His new room did have a window.

He had already informed Noah, who had returned with a bag from home, that the view was disappointing.

“It’s a hospital courtyard,” Noah said. “What were you expecting?”

“Something worth paying for.”

“You’re not paying for the view.”

“That explains it.”

Cassie went straight to the bedside.

“How do you feel?”

“As though everyone’s waiting for me to become sensible.”

“The doctor would settle for you staying in bed.”

Walter looked past her to me.

“What happened?”

I pulled a chair closer.

“Martin admitted that he kept your warning from me.”

Walter didn’t move.

For a moment, the room was quiet except for the monitor.

“He admitted it?”

“Yes. He said he planned to arrange the modification without delaying the contract. He didn’t complete it. When you contacted me, he intercepted the correspondence.”

Cassie stood beside her father, one hand resting on the blanket.

Walter looked down.

“I wondered,” he said, “whether I’d explained it badly.”

“You didn’t.”

“Whether I should have written less. Or sent different test results.”

“The report was clear.”

He nodded, but his eyes remained on the blanket.

Three years of being dismissed didn’t disappear because I told him he had been right.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You should have received a proper answer when you first raised it.”

He looked up.

“What about the equipment?”

“The replacement at St. Vincent’s has arrived. The independent team is checking it before it goes into service. The hospital has temporary storage, and we’re covering the cost.”

“And the other installations?”

“I’ve asked for the complete list.”

“Don’t wait for the paperwork to be pretty.”

“I won’t.”

That earned a small nod.

He reached for the water on his bedside table. Cassie handed it to him before he could lean too far.

“Your daughter has already warned me about making promises,” I said.

“She gets that from her mother.”

“I get it from watching you,” Cassie told him.

Walter drank, then set the cup down.

“Call me when you have findings. Not when you have another apology.”

“I will.”

By seven, the doctor had reviewed the overnight observations and explained the medication changes. Walter could go home after the discharge paperwork was completed, with follow-up arranged and instructions to rest.

He objected to the wheelchair.

The nurse ignored him with practiced efficiency.

Outside, the rain had stopped.

Noah helped his father into a taxi while Cassie checked the discharge bag for the third time.

Walter lowered the window before they pulled away.

“Mr. Vale.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget the backup drive.”

“The review team will arrange that with you.”

“And my lawyer.”

“And your lawyer.”

He nodded.

“Good. I dislike having to repeat myself.”

Cassie snorted.

Noah looked over his shoulder.

“He’s been repeating that since I got here.”

The taxi left with Walter still arguing.

Cassie stood beside me on the pavement, suddenly without anything urgent to do.

“You need sleep,” I said.

“So do you.”

“I need a shower first.”

She looked at my trousers.

“That would be considerate of everyone.”

“I can drive you home.”

This time, she glanced toward the Corolla and smiled.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I opened the passenger door before she reached it. The repaired panel groaned but moved on the first attempt.

She stopped.

“Did you fix it?”

“No. It may have sensed an opportunity to impress you.”

“That would make one of you.”

I laughed and waited until she was seated before closing the door.

During the drive, she texted her mother, then rested her phone in her lap.

I concentrated on the road.

There were things I wanted to ask. Whether she would call later. Whether the way she had held my hand meant she wanted me near her once this crisis was over.

She had spent the night answering questions, defending her father, and deciding whether to believe me.

I could let her have fifteen quiet minutes.

At her building, she turned toward me.

“You’re going to the office?”

“Yes.”

“To see Martin?”

“The reviewers will speak to him. I have other things to do.”

“Good.”

“You don’t want me there?”

“I don’t want the whole morning to become about how much he hurt you.”

I nodded.

“Neither does your father.”

“He’s usually right when he’s being annoying.”

She reached for the handle, then paused.

“Call me when you’ve slept.”

“I can do that.”

“And if you haven’t slept, don’t lie.”

“I’ll report the disappointing truth.”

She smiled and got out.

I watched until she entered the building.

Then my phone rang.

The review coordinator had the first search results.

“We’ve located four additional reports with the same routing pattern,” she said. “They were classified as contractor disputes or routine service issues. None reached the safety committee.”

“Same equipment?”

“Related configurations. We need the technical team to determine the scope.”

“Were corrective actions completed?”

“We haven’t found evidence of that for all four.”

I stared through the windshield.

Four more reports.

Four people who had written something down and expected the next person to read it.

“Contact the hospitals,” I said.

“We recommend doing that with a clear interim advisory.”

“Prepare it now.”

“Your commercial team will want to review the language.”

“They can check that the installation details are accurate. They don’t get to remove the warning.”

At the office, people were already gathering outside the conference room.

I had gone home long enough to change. The flannel was folded in the back of my wardrobe, where I had no intention of finding it again.

The finance director placed an estimate in front of me.

Replacement costs. Temporary storage. Independent inspection. Lost revenue.

“We don’t know that every unit is defective,” he said.

“No. We know enough to inspect them.”

“One of these hospitals is negotiating renewal.”

“They should know before they sign.”

He looked at the others around the table.

“If we notify them before completing the review, we may lose the contract.”

“If we wait and their equipment fails, what have we protected?”

Nobody answered.

I turned to the technical lead.

“Can you coordinate inspections with the hospitals today?”

“Yes. Some will need temporary monitoring before we can get teams on site.”

“Arrange it.”

The finance director tapped the estimate.

“And the cost?”

“Authorize it.”

“All of it?”

I looked at the list again.

St. Vincent’s had not become important because Walter’s daughter had handed me a towel.

The other hospitals did not become less important because I hadn’t met the people who worked in them.

“Yes,” I said.

The technical lead gathered the documents.

“I’ll need that instruction in writing.”

I opened my laptop.

For years, I had issued orders knowing that people would obey because they knew what refusal could cost them.

This one would cost me.

I typed the instruction and sent it to everyone in the room.

Inspect every affected installation. Tell each hospital what we know, what remains uncertain, and what we are doing next. No exceptions.