“So along comes your old friend Azor Sparks, a man with a renowned international reputation, who took a chance.”

“And we all lived happily ever after.”

Again, no one spoke.

Decker said, “You must have been very grateful.”

“I just about wept at his feet, I was so thankful.” Berger blew air into his hands, rubbed them together. “My first assignment was assisting him. Like any other resident surgeon. I’d been out of practice for a while…”

He tapped his hands on the desk.

“The next time out, he handed me the scalpel. A routine bypass that evolved into a complex situation. I was sweating buckets. I kept waiting for Azor to step in. But he didn’t. Yes, he watched, but never said a word. The upshot? I handled it masterfully.”

“Congratulations.”

Berger smiled. “Thank you. And that was it. We’ve been working together ever since. As colleagues, side by side. Having said that…I always knew his position. And I always knew mine. Yes, occasionally, I suffered a bruised ego. But better a bruised ego than none at all.”

Decker wrote as he spoke. “Let me ask you this, Dr. Berger. If you applied to other programs and institutions now, how do you think you’d be received?”

“After working with Azor for twenty-five years, I could write my own ticket.”

“So your past wouldn’t follow you?”

“Perhaps…if the position was a very big one like the head of NIH or the dean of Harvard Medical School…it might come out that I took my boards twice. But I strongly doubt the reason would be exposed. Unless someone was determined to unbury this oddity in order to ruin me.”

“Who would that be?”

“No one,” Berger snapped. “Even Reggie Decameron doesn’t hold that kind of animosity toward me. It would only come up if someone purposely launched an extensive probe.” He looked pointedly at Decker. “Someone like the police.”

Decker kept his expression neutral, wondering why the doctor spilled so easily if his past had truly been that well interred. Maybe Berger confessed to cheating in order to hide something more nefarious. Decker said, “Well, not much point in my looking into your past now.”

“Which is the reason why I told you. Better to head you off at the pass, so to speak.”

“So few people know about your ordeal.”

“The generation that knew my plight way back when has practically died out.”

“A theoretical question,” Decker said. “What would happen to you if your past was suddenly made public?”

Berger’s eyes turned stony. “I can’t answer that because it wouldn’t happen. The only one of my current colleagues who was aware of it was Azor. And he never said anything to anyone.”

“As far as you know.”