“I’ll think about it. And I suggest you not mention this to anybody.”

“I’ll have my office call your secretary to make an appointment.”

“You guys never stop, do you?” Barry sat up. “The world might have blown up last night and you guys are still hawking your show. It’s a real racket you’ve got.”

“Barry.” Dr. Vartan lowered his voice. “You are not well and I want to help you.”

“Do you think it was a suicide bomber or a water main break, doc? Tell me what the medical community thinks.”

“I think I need to see you regardless.” The doctor was not going to be deterred.

“Tell you what. I’ll get you invited to a few screenings whether you see me this week or not,” Barry said quickly. “You like Nicolas Cage? ’Cause I’m throwing a dinner for Nic Cage. Great guy.”

“Barry. Come in as soon as possible. We need to deal with this. Are you in pain now?”

“No. I’m good,” Barry said quickly.

“Glad to hear it. Hopefully we’ll see you before the end of the week. And by the way, I think it was a water main break. It’s the only way I can get my kids to sleep at night. Call me if you need me.” The doctor hung up.

Barry began dialing Clarice. When he got her voice mail he put the phone down. He wasn’t going to leave a stupid message. He didn’t need to beg Clarice to be a decent human being. If she were ill he’d help her. He wouldn’t run off to Palm Beach to open a shop. He was sick and tired of other people’s selfishness.

Barry began to dress to get to the airport. He decided he would definitely fly to Aspen. The altitude, the snow, even the dry cold would do him good. And he wasn’t going to be thrown by that doctor’s call. He had legally worked out his own mortality. He wouldn’t allow anyone to pull the plug, and under no circumstances would he be put in a hospital. Rather, he’d stay at The Lowell, or Claridge’s in London, or the Little Nell in Aspen with round-the-clock care and room service. He had seen the $10,000-a-day hospital suites at Sloan-Kettering and Mount Sinai. They were bullshit places designed to get money from people like the Aga Khan. Bottom line, they were still hospitals. And anyway, nowadays anyone with serious ambitions wouldn’t become a doctor because they made far too little money. Even if Dr. Vartan was the personal physician to the entire House of Saud, he was in truth just a glorified personal assistant.