The Victims Game
Part Fifteen - the Clerks
By Scott J. Welles
scottjwelles@yahoo.com

DISCLAIMERS:  Hi. We've got some legal stuff to wade through before we can jump into things. Mostly the usual prerequisite jazz: ER and all related characters are the property of Warner Bros., ConstantC Productions, and Amblin Entertainment Television, a bunch of really swell, understanding guys who won't sue me if I mention that the aforementioned characters and institutions are being used without their permission, but only for entertainment purposes, and that no form of profit is being made on this work. For the benefit of the content-conscious amongst you, I'll assure you that there's nothing here that you couldn't see on the show, anyway. Except maybe some language, I'm not sure yet. Depends what kind of day I'm having as I write. Beyond that, I make no promises about what's in store. Could be silly, could be scary, could be sexy, could be sad. I'm not telling. Come on, live dangerously...

After leaving the hospital, I went out for a walk around town, not paying much attention to where I was going. I think half of me was hoping I'd get mugged, so I'd have an excuse to beat up on somebody. Shows you how much sulking I'm capable of, huh?

I ended up in front of that famous statue of Michael Jordan defying gravity. What would Michael do at a time like this? He'd ask himself what the hell a basketball player would be doing in this kind of mess in the first place, then he'd go shoot some hoops or something, doofus. Man, I come up with some weird ideas sometimes.

Kerry Weaver had made some telling points. I had been running on ego for quite a while. It was what made me take the job of investigating the clinic in the first place. I suppose it was what made me go to work for Councilman Bob, too. I just wanted to see if I could pull it off, and swell my own head a little more.

Maybe pursuing things now would just be another act of egotism. Maybe it would just be showing off to try to play hero and save the day. Maybe everyone's current troubles were inevitable, and blaming myself was just an inverse form of self-centeredness. I didn't know.

I did know, however, that Wasserstein's death was because of me. If I hadn't gotten him involved, I was willing to bet that he would have remained ignorant of the whole scam, and they wouldn't have had to kill him. Or maybe they would have, you never know.

If Kerry doesn't want me taking action for her sake, or the ER's, then that's too damn bad, I decided. I'm going to find Amanda Lee, if not for her sake, then for Wasserstein's, and for my own. If I can help her in the process, terrific. If she doesn't like it, tough. If that makes me a raging egomaniac, then so be it. To thine own self be true, and all that. Fine speaker, that Polonius.

The next day, I tried calling Richard Wintergreen again, and just got his answering machine one more time. I didn't bother to leave another message. I tried the office, in case he had come in, but I got my own voice on the machine, the welcome message I recorded just before leaving for Chicago. If Richard had been into the office, he would have replaced it with a more recent message. Great.

On a whim, I walked around some more, my thoughts free-forming. By late afternoon, I realized I was letting my steps carry me back to County General, though I didn't really have much of a plan in mind. It was more a case of putting myself on autopilot, and trusting that it would come to me when the moment was right. I knew I needed help, though I couldn't have said whose, or what kind of help in particular. But I visualized it being there when I needed it.

When I neared the hospital, I saw Randi Fronzcak coming out of the ER doors. You see? The universe provides. Hablo del Diablo. When the teacher is ready, the student shall appear. If you build it, he will come. Stop me before I cliché again.

I called her name, and she looked at me, sharply. She had the DeNiro eyes down pat. You talkin' to me?

Randi walked toward me, and I came to meet her, and something snapped my head ninety degrees to the right, without warning. It was an open-handed slap, but she had her full shoulder behind it. Lucky she hadn't closed her fist, or I'd be sporting a shiner. This gal knew how to deck someone.

"You bastard, you've got a lot of nerve coming here!" she snapped, throwing a couple more blows. I grabbed her by the wrists, and she brought her knee up, trying to nail me where it hurt, but I let her go and danced back, having seen the move coming. She yelled, "You know I could lose my job for helping you?!"

"Would you just listen to me--?"

"I heard you were such a good guy, how upset you were when we all thought Weaver was dead, and how you saved her life, even though you weren't being paid or anything...!"

"Randi-"

"Now you've done this to us?! I guess once there's money involved, all your scruples go out the window, is that it?"

I dropped my hands. "Okay, hit me again."

"What?!"

"I said you're right. Go ahead and hit me again, get it out of your system."

She stared at me, confused.

"You're right, Randi, this is all my fault. I don't blame you for hating me, but I need your help if I'm going to find a way to set things right. If the price of that help is that I need to take a few lumps, then feel free."

She hesitated.

I waved a hand at Doc Magoo's and said, "Buy you some coffee and we'll talk?"

Inside, Randi listened and ignored her coffee while I spun the whole yarn one more time, and laid the Amanda Lee theory on her. "Aw, man, life's too short for this soap opera crap," she whined when I mentioned Lee, but she admitted it was plausible. "She may have been cuckoo as a Swiss clock, but she was also as clever as a Swiss clockmaker."

"That's not bad," I said, with a smile.

"Oooh, ya like it? I just made it up," she cooed, mock-sweet, then got dead serious. "So why come to me again?"

I was going to say something like, because you're as cute as a bug's ear, but I could tell her banter-tolerance was used up for tonight. I told her what Kerry Weaver had told me about the passwords for County's computer system.

She shook her head. "Meaningless," she said, "If you know what you're doing, you could put in a back door..."

"A hidden password so she could get in, regardless of whatever changes they make?"

"Right. If she'd planned to this kind of thing in advance, she could have put it in back when she was ER Chief. But she'd have to be in the building to use it, now. The way our system's set up, you can't log on with a modem, except to e-mail. It won't authorize anyone outside the building. To access records, you'd have to be at one of the terminals inside the hospital."

"Is that a common setup?"

"I dunno. They want to be strict about patient confidentiality and stuff, but they're not real smart about it. What they get for hiring LAN techs just outta grad school."

I rubbed my chin. "I know security's a joke in there, but I hardly think that Amanda Lee could just walk into the building and start using the nearest computer terminal..."

"No way, we'd all recognize her. Besides, not just anyone can even log on. You've gotta be a hospital employee, a doctor, a nurse, a desk clerk..."

"Or have a warrant to check the files," I said, surprising even myself with the leap.

"Huh?"

"Mark Greene told me those auditors from the Medicinal Standards & Practices Commission had a warrant to-"

"Oh, jeez, yeah!" she burst out, "I remember those guys! I was just goin' off shift when they came in!"

I leaned forward. "What did they look like?"

Randi gave me perfect descriptions of Buzz Cut and Broken Nose. Those guys got around, it seemed.

"Son of a bitch, I knew it. Montgomery faked them a warrant so they could come in, use a password Amanda Lee gave them, screw the hospital out of twenty mil-"

"It was closer to nineteen and change."

"Whatever. Then they just switch dates on some records - Amanda probably told them just how to do it - and they claim to have discovered the changes." I finished my coffee. "Randi, if there's a hidden password, do you think you could find it?"

She stared back at me, and you could see the tinge of excitement in her eye. "Let's find out."

Ten minutes later, we were behind the admissions desk, me looking over her shoulder while she typed a mile a minute on the keyboard. I didn't follow all of what she was saying, something about comparing lists of user names against available passwords in the database, but something was definitely a little off, she said.

"There are a couple of anonymous users here," she told me, "Could just be generic user profiles, I can't tell what their rights are, but I think at least one of 'em's been added illicitly."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, the database has a whole list of available passwords. When we create a new user account, one of the unused ones gets picked at random and assigned to the new person. There's one extra password, though, in addition. Can't tell what it is, so it must have been added..."

I've never been big on technobabble. I said, "Assuming it's Lee's, can we try a few guesses and see if it works?"

"Well, normally you'd only get three tries before it locked you out, but I know a couple ways to trick out the system. Question remains, though, what password do we try?"

On the principle that it would be something easy for Amanda Lee to remember, I suggested that Randi brainstorm anything that might have had some relevance to Lee at the time she worked at County. She thought hard, and started typing.

I felt a tap at my shoulder. "Hey, Danny?"

I turned. "Yeah, what is it, Jerry?" I said, impatiently.

"I tried to tell you, yesterday, you've got a phone message. You know, I'm only supposed to take those for the people who actually work here, but..."

"Jerry, who was it?"

"I dunno, he didn't leave his name, just a number, but I think it's that English guy you work with..."

I snatched the slip of paper out of his hand, and was dialing the nearest phone before I knew what I was doing. The number was local, not Los Angeles. It was ringing...

"You're welcome," I heard Jerry mutter, but I ignored him for the moment. Come on, Richard, pick up...

After ten rings, I gave up and cradled the phone. "Any luck?" I said to Randi.

"Nada," she replied, "I've tried LEE, AMANDA, DRLEE, CHIEF, ALEE, MONEY...I'm just shooting in the dark, here, really."

I suggested she try CLINIC, CAROL, HATHAWAY, CARTER (after the Foundation), JOAN, MONTGOMERY (too many letters), and in a moment of truly ridiculous desperation, MATAHARI. No dice.

I picked up the phone again, figuring I'd leave a message on our machine in the office in LA, and maybe Richard would get that and call me at my hotel or something. I had just begun dialing when I heard, "What the hell is this man doing here?"

Randi looked up. "Oh, Dr. Corday..." She looked a little intimidated for the first time since I'd known her.

Corday was the tall Englishwoman I'd glimpsed a few other times. She looked sufficiently attractive, poised, and determined to have played the Cate Blanchett role in that Queen Elizabeth movie last year. I didn't see it, but from the trailers, Corday had the same kind of presence.

I reached a hand toward her. "Hi, I'm Daniel F-"

"Save it, Mr. Fox, I know exactly who you are, and what you've done. Quite enough, in my opinion. Randi, I asked you a question, why is this man here, and what are you doing helping him?"

"Don't take it out on her if you're mad at me, Doctor Corday," I said, "I'm trying to set things right, here. Why don't you talk to Mark Greene, he'll vouch for me." I hoped. Real luck-pushing time, here.

"If you think I'm about to walk away and leave you at liberty in here, you're sorely mistaken," she snapped. "I'll speak to Dr. Greene, but in the meantime, I want you out of this hospital."

I was losing patience faster than a med student in an epidemic. That's a little medical humor for you. To Corday, I said, "So call security, if there is such a thing around here," and turned back to the phone, dialing my office.

She slapped her hand down on the hooks, breaking the connection. "Don't think for a moment I won't," she declared. Where Randi was fire, Corday was ice. She didn't yell or hit, she just stared. Coldly. That was worse. We held the look for a while.

BEEP! "Got it," said Jerry Markovic's voice. I hadn't noticed him working at the computer terminal. He said, "MGANDAL."

We all looked at him. "What's 'McGandle'?" I asked.

Randi said, "That's the wizard from 'Lord of the Rings', right?"

"That's Gandalf!"

"No no no," Jerry said, "MG-and-AL. Like MG + AL. Dr. Lee used to doodle that on some of her charts, inside little hearts. You're looking for her secret password, right?"

We looked at the screen, which now read, WELCOME, AMANDA, followed by a menu of screen options.

"I tried it with a plus sign and an ampersand, but the password can't contain special characters, so I thought maybe-"

"Oh my God," Corday said, "There's access to everything here. Patient files, accounting records, personnel reviews...some of these are restricted to the Chief of Staff or better!"

Jiminy H. Christmas, I was right. Call Guiness. I said, "If someone logged on this way, could they alter dates or transfer funds?"

"Perhaps not transfer them directly," she said, distractedly, "but certainly authorize an outside party to do so."

"Even over a modem?"

She nodded.

Oh, Amanda, you crafty little fruitcake, I thought, I've got you now. You may have lawyers and ex-cops on your side, but I've got desk clerks with waaay too much time on their hands on mine. So, ha ha ha.

A couple of guys in rent-a-cop uniforms arrived, followed by Chuni Marquez. I guess she'd overheard and called them. I looked at the guards and thought, Lo and behold, the mythical beast appears. One of them said, "Everything all right, Dr. Corday?"

Corday glanced at me, this time without so much hostility, and said, "Yes, we're all right now, thank you."

They nodded and went away. Chuni remained long enough to look at us. "Sorry, Danny," she said, "but after last time..."

I gave her a smile and a wink. " S'awright," I said.

She smiled back and left.

I turned back to Corday, who was still examining the screen. "You think maybe we should tell someone about this?"

"Yes. Jerry, call Dr. Greene and page Dr. Romano for me. Don't let him give you any trouble, either."

"Sure thing, Dr. Corday."

Corday gave me another look, this one with a little respect in it, and nodded slightly. Still unsure about me, but giving me the benefit of the doubt. She picked up a chart and walked off.

I said to Randi, "I'm still a little persona non grata around here, so maybe I should leave you folks to it. Romano finds me here, it'll all get confrontational again. Could you...?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure they get the whole scoop," she said.

"One more thing..." I took her aside, so we could talk privately. "You know where I can get a gun? Right now, I mean."

"What, just because I was in the joint awhile, I'm automatically wired into the streets or something?" she replied, indignantly.

"I don't know, I'm just asking."

She thought about it for a moment. "Lemme make a call."

A few minutes later, after a hushed telephone conversation, she turned to me and gave me an address and said there'd be someone waiting for me. I thanked her sincerely, and turned to go, but she said, "Hey, Foxy?"

I looked back.

"You screw this up and we get hurt again, I'll maybe get a gun of my own, and come after you. You know what I mean?" But she said it with the half-smile.

I smiled back, and walked out. Then, reconsidering, I walked back in. "Hey, Jerry?"

He was just hanging up the phone, but turned. "Uh-huh?"

I gave him a thump on the shoulder. "Way to go, big man," I said with a grin, "I don't know what this place'd do without you."

Jerry spread his hands and exclaimed, "THANK you...?!" He was turning and looking around, like, did you all hear that?

Randi's directions led me to a small corner bar several blocks away, and I quickly spotted the individual I was there to meet. Partly because it was the only person drinking Perrier instead of beer or hard stuff, but mostly because we'd met before.

We exchanged greetings, I politely declined the offer to buy me a drink, and then we got down to it. I explained what I was up to, and what I planned to do next.

"So, why do you need a gun?"

"Well, if all goes well, I won't need it at all," I said, "But you and I both know how often all goes well."

I got a nod in agreement of the point. But then, "Sorry, sport. I'm not giving you a gun. It'd be criminally irresponsible of me to just hand out firearms to casual acquaintances like that, wouldn't it?"

I nodded. I suppose it was a bit much to ask.

"But I'll bring mine along."

"Bring it along?"

"Yeah. I'm free at the moment, and it sounds like you could use some backup."

"Hmm. Let me guess, cop groupie?"

"Cop family, thank you."

"Fair enough." I stood, giving her the Andy Garcia smile. "After you, Dr. Doyle."

"Call me Maggie. I'm off the clock."



"I don't know how to thank you guys!"
--- Fozzie Bear, 'The Muppet Movie'
"I don't know WHY to thank you guys..."
--- Kermit the Frog, Ibid