Hillerman, Tony by Finding Moon (v4) [html] Read Free Book Online Page B

angioplasty,” Dr. Serna said. “Heavier because of your mother’s condition.”
    “Angioplasty,” Moon said. “That’s running the fiber optic gadget up the artery to find the blockage?”
    Dr. Serna nodded.
    “How much risk?”
    “Well, I’d say there’s a ninety-five percent chance she’ll have another heart attack—and soon—if we don’t do anything. And I don’t think she’d survive it. We need the angiogram to tell us what to do. Even in her condition the risk of the test being fatal is much, much smaller. If bypass surgery is indicated, then the risk might go as high as fifteen or twenty percent.”
    Moon considered. Dr. Serna waited, face sympathetic. She looked to him to be extremely competent.
    “Okay,” Moon said. “Is there a form I need to sign?”
    “I have it,” Dr. Serna said.
    Moon signed it.
    “Now I have a question for you,” Dr. Serna said. “We had a call from Miami Beach transferred over from West General.” She checked her notes. “It was from a Dr. Albert Levison. He said he was the physician attending Tom Morick. That’s your stepfather?
    He asked to be provided a complete account of your mother’s health. Does that sound reasonable?”
    “It does. My mother is married to Tom Morick,” Moon said, aware that his voice sounded stiff. “Morick has amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. He’s pretty much paralyzed. In fact he’s in an iron lung, dying fast. He’ll want to know everything.”
    “We’ll send Dr. Levison all the details, then. He can explain them to Mr. Morick. And your mother is more awake now, if you want to see her.”
    Victoria Mathias managed a smile, but just barely. Yes, she was feeling better. Less pain in her chest, but maybe that was the morphine. But what had he found out about the baby? Moon said nothing really definite, and that caused Victoria Mathias to give him a long, silent look.
    “Malcolm,” she said, “I’m a big girl. That means the baby hasn’t arrived in Manila, doesn’t it? Does it also mean that Mr. Castenada doesn’t know where she is?”
    “That’s what it seems to mean.”
    “And that must mean she’s still in Vietnam,” she said.
    “Or still en route,” Moon said. “Castenada seemed to believe whoever was supposed to send her off in Saigon was having trouble getting her on a flight.”
    His mother studied him. “What did you think of Castenada?”
    Moon shrugged. “Hard to tell over the telephone.”
    “He doesn’t instill much confidence, I’m afraid.”
    “No. He doesn’t.”
    She made a feeble effort to move her hand across the sheet toward him. Let it fall. Moon reached out and took it.
    “Malcolm,” she said, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to go to Manila and take care of this.”
    “I will,” Moon said. “But first we have to get you well.”
    “I don’t think there’s time for that. I was watching the television news out at the airport before this happened. Things seem to be going to hell in that part of the world.” -
    “I can’t just go off and leave you.”
    “Son,” she said, “there’s nothing you can do for me here. It’s up to the doctor. You just have to go and get our granddaughter.”
    And so Moon went.

SAIGON , South Vietnam, April 16 (AP)— Communist rockets last night detonated an ammunition dump at Bien Hoa thirty miles north of here. The blast shook the capital and reinforced reports that the Bien Hoa air base, largest in Vietnam, had come under artillery fire.
The Fifty Day
April 17, 1975
    THE JET DESCENDED THROUGH RAIN to the Manila airport. Out the water-streaked window beside his seat, Moon could see nothing but the bleak inside of solid cloud cover, then a lush green landscape blurred by the falling water, then puddled runways lined with weeds. His impression of the terminal was of roaring, clamorous confusion. A prematurely old building with flaking paint, cracks in too many floor tiles, and too much dirt. The air conditioner worked too well, making the humid