by Robin Cook
As he had noticed en route to the Public Health Laboratory, the traffic was still far lighter than normal. And only because he was looking at the traffic did he see a black Suburban moving slowly along the curb several blocks behind him. Could it have been the same vehicle he’d seen that morning? Jack had no idea, but it made him feel uneasy.
Since the reporters outside of the OCME had dispersed, the front door was unlocked and Marlene, the long-term receptionist, was sitting behind her raised countertop desk. It was always a pleasure for Jack to see her, and she greeted him with her signature warmth. There were a few other people in the lobby. Jack didn’t know if they were reporters or grieving family members. He ignored them.
After being buzzed into the interior of the OCME by Marlene, Jack walked into the front office. Now both secretaries were at their respective desks. Laurie’s private office door was closed, which Jack did not interpret as a positive sign. He stopped in front of Cheryl’s desk. She was on the phone but quickly finished her call and hung up.
“What’s the story?” Jack asked, gesturing toward Laurie’s closed door.
“You’re to go right in,” Cheryl said.
“Fair enough,” Jack said. He didn’t know how to interpret such an order. What it suggested was that Laurie had anticipated his return. He didn’t know if that was good news or bad. He opened the door, stepped in, and pulled the door closed behind him. Things hadn’t changed since he’d left in a bit of a huff. Paul Plodget was still there, and he and Laurie were still sitting in the same positions as they had been earlier. There was obvious tension in the air.
“You people don’t look very happy,” Jack said.
“There’s not a lot to be happy about,” Laurie said.
“Is the city getting itself back to a semblance of normal?” Jack asked. Although Laurie was looking directly at him, Paul wasn’t. Jack wondered why.
“Hardly,” Laurie said. “Not with subways shut down and schools closed. But be that as it may, there is something I need to ask you.”
“Well, here I am,” Jack said, smiling in a cocky fashion while spreading his hands with his palms up. He knew it was a mildly provocative gesture that probably should have been avoided, but he couldn’t help himself. Laurie’s tone and Paul’s avoidant behavior were suggestive that something unpleasant was coming along the lines of whether he had contacted the Daily News. Jack wasn’t one to face adversity sitting down.
“What do you know of Carlos Sanchez?” Laurie demanded.
“Nice boy,” Jack said. It was a quote from David Ben-Gurion, the founder of Israel, when asked about Ariel Sharon after Sharon had annihilated a Jordanian village as a reprisal. The quote had stayed in Jack’s mind for the perfect situation. He thought this was it.
“Jack!” Laurie snapped. “Please be serious for a moment.”
“I assume you are referring to one of our mortuary techs in training,” Jack responded. “Am I getting close?”
“Yes,” Laurie said with exasperation. “The police have learned that he was the source of the information that led to the Daily News headline and article. He made no attempt to deny it, nor the fact that he had been paid. He claims that you were the direct source of all the information. Is that true?”
“I had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Sanchez had to be the one who’d spoken to the tabloid. Actually, I had forgotten his last name, so thank you for reminding me.”
“You are avoiding my question,” Laurie snapped. “Were you the one who gave this erroneous information to Mr. Sanchez, so he would call the Daily News?”
“Let’s put it this way,” Jack said. “I didn’t say a word about the Black Death.”
Laurie closed her eyes for a moment. Jack had the sense she was probably counting to ten, and he tried to convince himself to restrain the sarcasm. The problem was that accusing him of being the source via Carlos Sanchez wasn’t that different from being accused of being the source who called the Daily News. He couldn’t believe that Laurie could think he was capable.
“What in heaven’s name did you say to this man?” Laurie demanded.
“All right,” Jack said, now holding up his hands, palms out, as a calming gesture. “Let’s put this all into context. Carlos Sanchez had been hired as a mortuary tech by our chief of staff. He was under Vinnie Ammendola’s wing for training. Unfortunately, Vinnie quickly learned Carlos was not up to the job, something I sensed when we three worked together Monday on the first subway death, which, by the way, Carlos found very distasteful. As Vinnie said, the man was squeamish and a germaphobe. Anyway, Vinnie went to the chief of staff to get the man fired for being unsuitable as a mortuary tech, but Twyla wouldn’t take Vinnie’s word. Twyla ordered Vinnie to give the guy another chance.”
“Please!” Laurie said, interrupting. “Please get to the point! What did you say to Mr. Sanchez?”
“To understand what I said, you have to understand the situation,” Jack snapped back. “Do you want to hear or not?”
“I want to hear,” Laurie said, struggling to control her impatience.
“When I called Vinnie to set up for the second subway death, he asked me if I could help dissuade Carlos from becoming a mortuary tech. Since we both knew his response to the first subway death autopsy, we thought we could emphasize what the second one suggested—namely, that the problem was contagious on some level. So that’s what we did, and he decided being a mortuary tech was not in his future and stormed out.”
“Did you use the term subway pandemic?” Laurie asked, losing patience.
“Yes,” Jack finally admitted. “I said something like, ‘Now we know we could be facing a real subway pandemic.’ It was a little like those signs you see on Forty-seventh Street for ‘genuine artificial diamonds.’”
“What about the 1918 flu pandemic?” Laurie asked. “Did you mention anything about that in relation to this possible ‘subway pandemic’?”
“Yes, but again in a hypothetical context,” Jack admitted.
Laurie looked at Paul. They both nodded as if in conspiratorial agreement. She then refocused on Jack. “Well, all this puts me in an unfortunate position. Paul and I have been on the phone with both the Commissioner of Health and the mayor practically since you walked out of here. And I have to tell you, the mayor is livid for fear this costly debacle will be blamed on him and his administration. Everyone knows what a big champion he’s been of the Pandemic Influenza Preparedness and Response Plan to the extent of ordering almost yearly exercises and drills.” Laurie cleared her throat before continuing. “I have been instructed by the Commissioner of Health and the mayor to put you on unpaid administrative leave while this entire episode is under official investigation and review. That means you have to surrender your official medical examiner badge. The mayor needs a scapegoat, and unfortunately you have been selected.”
For a few moments, absolute silence reigned in the room. “I don’t believe this,” Jack finally snapped. “This is absurd. Especially since there very well might be a pandemic brewing that I need to continue investigating. I just autopsied a third case that was clinically the same as the first two. We’re thinking it’s some new retrovirus that spreads by body fluids.”
“Has Virology identified an actual agent?” Laurie asked.
“No, but there’s reason to believe they are close, not only here at the Public Health Laboratory but also at the Unknown Pathogens section of the CDC.”
“Then it is appropriate for a CDC epidemiological team to be on its way,” Laurie said. “I’m sorry, Jack. But these are my orders.”
“I’ve just heard there have been two cases of the same illness in Europe involving two people from New York,” Jack said, almost pleading.
“I’m certain the CDC people will be interested to hear,” Laurie said. “May I have your badge?”
“Laurie, you can’t do this!” Jack could hear the agitatio
n rising in his voice. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Go home,” Laurie said. “I’ll try to expedite the investigation as much as I can and get you reinstated. Let me have your badge.”
“I can’t go home with your parents encamped in our guest room,” Jack snapped. “I’ll go crazy.”
“I can’t do anything about that now,” Laurie said. “Maybe tonight. Right now, this problem that you must admit you are responsible for to some degree will be taking all my energy.”
With sudden anger at himself and the world in general, including Laurie, Jack pulled out his NYC medical examiner badge in its leather holder and thumped it down on Laurie’s desk. He found it hard to believe that Laurie couldn’t have talked the mayor out of such a draconian consequence. To him it seemed unreasonably cruel to rob him of a large part of his identity, not to mention his defense mechanism against Emma’s putative diagnosis and against the mental demons stemming from the demise of his first family. He needed to work. For Jack it was like being forced out of the house on a cold night with no clothes.
34
THURSDAY, 9:40 A.M.
Continuing his juvenile acting out that began with how he’d surrendered his ME badge, Jack slammed the door to his office with such force that his kids’ framed photos tipped over on top of the file cabinet. Without bothering to right them, he threw himself dejectedly into his office chair, leaned back, and stared up at the acoustical-tile ceiling. He had to fight against the urge to break something, but the only thing within reach was his microscope, and he wasn’t that out of control. Since it had stopped raining, he wished he had his bike, but at the same time he acknowledged that even that might not have been a good idea in his current frame of mind.
After sitting there for some time, Jack wasn’t even sure how long, his mobile rang. At first he just ignored it, since he didn’t feel like talking with anyone, and it soon stopped. Yet in a couple of minutes it started again. And then yet again. Finally, when it rang again, its persistence got his attention. Arching his back, he managed to get it out of his pants pocket and looked at the caller ID. It was a number, not a name, meaning it wasn’t anyone in his contacts. He was about to toss the phone onto his desk when he recognized the area code, 973. He knew that was New Jersey. Partially as a diversion, Jack answered. To his surprise it was Harvey Lauder, the ME from Morris County who also had a private office in Dover.
“I’m glad I got you,” Harvey Lauder said. “I’ve called a few times. I was determined. There’s been a development out here that might interest you. Last night a young woman in her twenties came into the emergency room at the Dover Valley Hospital in serious respiratory distress of acute onset. It was just like the Carol Stewart case. Even though the patient got to the hospital quickly and was intubated and put on a respirator, she died. It all happened in just a little over an hour from the first symptoms.”
“That does sound similar,” Jack said. He straightened up. “Was it just the similar clinical course that made you think of Carol Stewart?”
“Not at all. Even more striking was that she also had had a heart transplant. It was done here at the Dover Valley Hospital as the very first case after the hospital received its certification. Everybody is heartbroken, as she had become a minor celebrity. She had been doing so well, just like Carol Stewart.”
“That’s extraordinary,” Jack said. “Do you have a name for this new case?” He now sat bolt upright. His suspicion that Carol was the origin of the subway illness was now strengthened considerably with a second transplant recipient contracting it. Of course, there was always the possibility that this new victim was part of Carol and Helen’s social circle. That would have to be ruled out.
“Certainly,” Harvey said. “It’s Margaret Sorenson. The reason I’m calling is to let you know that I’m going to do an autopsy in an hour or so at the Dover Valley Hospital. They have superb facilities, including the latest in personal protection equipment. I was speaking with Dr. Markham and Dr. Friedlander, and they were hoping you might like to come out and participate. They would be extremely interested to have your take on whether it’s the same or different from Carol Stewart. They would also be more than willing to pay for your time. Are you in?”
“That might possibly work,” Jack said, trying not to sound too eager. He felt suddenly energized. Under the circumstances, such an invitation unexpectedly being dropped into his lap seemed like a gift from above, even though he didn’t believe in the “above.” Shifting his mind from a paralyzing mixture of anger, depression, and self-pity to logistics, he wondered how difficult it might be to get ahold of Warren to see if he could again borrow the Escalade.
“They will be pleased if it works out,” Harvey said. “They’ve offered a flat fee of five thousand dollars. Would that be agreeable to you? I know for a fact that it’s on the high end of the spectrum. I was the one who suggested it, as they asked my opinion.”
“That would be fine,” Jack said. He certainly wasn’t going to turn down being paid for something he wanted to do. Besides, the money would come in handy, since he had just been put on unpaid leave, which he wasn’t about to reveal, for fear the offer might be rescinded.
“May I tell them that it’s a go?” Harvey asked. “They’re eager to move forward.”
“I just have to figure out transportation,” Jack said. “Let me get back to you.”
“Maybe we can help in that regard,” Harvey said. “The hospital has a service that runs back and forth between the Zhao Heart Center at MGH and our facility. Let me check. I’ll call you right back. How would that be?”
“That would be very convenient,” Jack agreed. He disconnected. He felt like clapping. A few minutes earlier he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with himself and was toxically angry. Now he was being offered an opportunity to jump back into the thick of the conundrum of the subway death, and best of all, Laurie wouldn’t have a clue.
Picking his phone back up, Jack went into his contacts to pull up Warren’s information. If the Dover Valley Hospital shuttle didn’t work out, he wanted to have a backup. As he was waiting to see if Warren picked up, he thought about Harvey’s having used the pronoun “our” in relation to the Dover Valley Hospital. It made him wonder if it was just a figure of speech or if Harvey Lauder had some proprietary interest in the hospital. The thought stemmed from a comment Wei Zhao had made. A second later his phone buzzed, indicating an incoming call. Jack terminated the call to Warren and answered. It was Harvey, already calling back.
“We’re in luck,” Harvey said. “We do have a vehicle in the city that can come and pick you up at 520 First Avenue. How soon would you be ready to go?”
“As soon as I cancel my lunch date with the Pope, I’ll be ready,” Jack said. He couldn’t believe his luck that this was actually going to happen.
Harvey laughed. “I’m sure the Pope will be disappointed. We’ll have one of our Suburbans at the front of your building in fifteen minutes. There will be a sign with your name on the passenger-side window. The driver will bring you directly here to the Dover Valley Hospital, and I’ll meet you in the reception area. Any questions?”
“None that come to mind,” Jack said. “See you soon.”
For a few minutes Jack sat there staring ahead at nothing while his mind rekindled thoughts of his weird luncheon with Wei Zhao and how angry he’d become when it was apparent Wei had had him investigated. Jack’s intuition was telling him that Wei and his sprawling organization were ultimately responsible for all that was happening, including his administrative leave of absence and the deaths of five people, maybe even six, if this new case did turn out to be the same as the others. Jack was aware he didn’t have any real reason to believe this, but he did nonetheless, and under the circumstances he relished the opportunity to find out if he was correct.
35
THURSDAY, 10:05 A.M.
To avoid being seen by an
y of the higher-ups, Jack left the building from the receiving bay on the basement level. He certainly didn’t want to run into Laurie or Paul and be questioned as to where he was going. He then walked west on 30th Street up to First Avenue. Traffic on the avenue was still extraordinarily light, indicating the city was still far from back to normal.
Just as Harvey had promised, a black Suburban was waiting at the curb directly in front of the OCME entrance. Although the city was full of black Chevy Suburbans, Jack couldn’t help but wonder if this was the same SUV that had pulled out behind their Uber car that morning or the one that had been slowly trolling behind him when he’d returned from his visit to the Public Health Laboratory. Whether it was or not, it had a letter-size piece of paper with his name printed by hand in block letters taped to the inside of the tinted passenger window.
Jack walked directly up to the vehicle and opened the door with the intent of climbing in. He was surprised to find the seat already occupied by a youthful Asian man, who Jack guessed was in his mid-to-late twenties.
Before any words were spoken, the man leaped out the moment the door opened. He was well groomed, dressed casually but elegantly, and appeared fit, like a committed sportsman. “Are you Dr. Stapleton?” he asked with a heavy accent.
“I am,” Jack said.
The man quickly opened the rear door and allowed Jack to climb in before he got back into the front seat. A moment later they were off. Because of the lack of traffic, they made good time heading across town on 31st Street.
The driver was also Asian and appeared to be close to the same age as the man in the passenger seat. He, too, was nicely dressed. Jack couldn’t help but be moderately impressed with their clothes and grooming, considering how the current Generation Z seemed to prefer to present themselves.