Mrs. Carter glanced quickly toward the window through which Dr. Gould and another doctor could be seen. A nurse was helping them on with surgical gloves. “Dr. Gould will explain it all to you. I—” She stopped, looking down quickly. “I can’t say anything more, Mrs. Lloyd. Except that I know how you feel. I want you to know, this isn’t something I approve of, but I’m implanted too. I—” She shook her head, her eyes pleading.

“I understand.”

“Dr. Gould is one of the original founders of Shalev. He and the Major developed the idea of implantation, and—” The door pushed open, and she busied herself checking Becky’s head position.

“Mrs. Lloyd?” With the surgical mask in place, Dr. Gould’s voice was slightly muffled. “This is Dr. Abernathy, our X-ray and computer specialist, and this is Miss Brighton, our head surgical nurse.”

It was difficult to tell what they looked like behind their masks, except that Dr. Abernathy looked young and had kind eyes, and Madeline guessed that Miss Brighton was very attractive.

Dr. Abernathy moved over to a large machine. Part of it looked like a traditional X-ray machine, but it had additional machinery with dials, a digital readout, and numerous switches. He moved it back to the bed and positioned it over Becky’s head.

Mrs. Carter bent down and peered into Becky’s eyes. “You’re all set now, young lady. I’ll see you in your room, and I’ll have that big dish of ice cream I promised you, okay?” She stood up, touched Madeline’s arm briefly, then left the room.

“Mrs. Lloyd?”

“Yes?”

Dr. Gould put his hands together, the fingers interlocking as he pushed the surgical gloves on more tightly. “Your presence here is necessary, but you must understand that we cannot have you interfere with the operation in any way. You may speak to Becky to keep her calm, and that’s all. Is that clear?”

Madeline met his gaze, her eyes flashing, but she finally nodded, then leaned down and looked at Becky. “My goodness, Becky,” she cooed, “doesn’t Dr. Gould have a wonderful bedside manner?”

Dr. Abernathy nearly choked, and Miss Brighton dropped a pair of scissors into a tray with a loud clang. Dr. Gould glared at Madeline for a moment, then stalked around the table and thrust his hand out toward the nurse. She slapped a scalpel into it with a sharp crack.

“Dr. Abernathy, are you ready?” he snapped.

“Yes, doctor.”

As Dr. Gould bent over the back of Becky’s head, Madeline took a deep breath and bit her lip. Dr. Abernathy adjusted the machine slightly, then bent down and looked into Becky’s eyes. “How you doing, squirt?”

“Is it going to hurt?” she asked, the quiver in her voice betraying her anxiety.

He smiled. “Have you felt anything yet?”