“I can’t believe it. You can do anything.”
“You too, Daddy. You can do anything if you set your mind to it, right? You always say that.”
Cory looked at his son, wondering if he had a sixth sense. It was good advice, but acting on it, especially exposing a wicked illegal transplant ring, seemed out of reach. “Yep. If you try hard enough, you can do anything.”
Cory had no idea what to do, but he had an idea of where to start.
* * *
It’d taken Cory a week to get in to see his nemesis. He only agreed to meet after Cory said he had compromising material he wanted to hand off.
Cory was shown into the lawyer’s office. He smelled a hint of cigar smoke in the air. Barney Tower had lost thirty pounds, and there was a gray cast to his skin. He’d swapped out wearing three-thousand-dollar suits in favor of baggy lounge wear. He moved slower, but his eyes still projected confidence and power.
Tower cleared his throat. “Mr. Lupinski. We meet again.”
Cory nodded. “How are you feeling?”
He waved Cory off. “What did you want to discuss?”
“Getting an organ transplant.”
“I suggest you visit a hospital in the area that specializes in transplants.”
“I want to know about who you worked with when we asked for help for my mother-in-law.”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
Cory took a shot. “Look, I have the refund check, and it’s marked transplant reimbursement.”
Tower’s eyes widened. “Transplant? No, that was a refund of legal fees.”
“I hear you need a heart transplant.”
“The doctors debate whether that’s the best course of action.”
“You’re a smart man, and I know you’re always prepared.”
Tower smiled. “I try to see around as many corners as possible.”
“So, you’ve had to do your homework on the factors of a successful transplant. You know, the surgeon, where it’s done, the screening process, matching, etcetera.”
“Improving the odds.”
“I assume you wouldn’t entertain an unconventional way to get a transplant. Someplace outside the system.”
“I haven’t given it any thought.”
“Oh, come on. You had to. Anybody waiting for an organ looks at every option, especially somebody like you.”
“I agreed to see you because of the information you alluded to.”
“Look, you know what I know about you.”
Tower’s ears flattened.
“I said I’d keep it private and haven’t said a word, not even to my wife, the lawyer Worth, or anyone. After what you did to me and my family, you owe me.”
“Owe you?”
“That’s right. All I want is some help understanding how these places work. Kids are dying.”
“You’re very dramatic. The system is simply unable to meet the demands, and the market steps in to fill the void. My advice is to forget about all about it.”
“Killing people—”
“Don’t get so sanctimonious. While rates of mortality are slightly elevated, it offers those in need a chance at life.”
“Would you go to one of these places for a heart?”
“Today, no. However, if my condition worsens and there is no other option, I’d give it serious condition, like any reasonable person would.”
“I wouldn’t do it. It’s not right—”
“Is it right to leave your kids without a father? Your wife a widow?”
“I get it, but what about the donor? It’s okay to kill him or her?”
“The vast majority of off-market organs are kidneys and liver sections, as they regenerate. Lungs, hearts, and pancreases are another matter.”
“Where do they do these transplants?”
“Most times, surgicenters.”
“Legit surgicenters? Why would they risk it?”
“Money. There are no insurance companies to deal with, and they get paid retail rates. The paperwork doesn’t reflect the actual procedures, and with their own team and confidentiality laws, it flies under the radar.”
“But don’t they need to be hospitalized?”
“They usually stay a night or two, and when stable, they’re moved to a rehab facility. A private nurse accompanies them, monitoring their condition.”
“How many of these kinds of operations are there?”
“More than you’d believe. There are scores of organ brokers. This is a highly lucrative business, and it’s global. There’s no shortage of players.”
“It’s that widespread?”
“Yes.”
“Give me an idea. Say in the New York area, how many operators are there?”
“Ten or so.”
“Ten? That’s crazy.”
Tower nodded.
“Where do they get the training?”
“Most are trained surgeons. You ever go to one that didn’t want to perform surgery on you? They love cutting, and with this, they earn extra money. Big money.”
Cory never had gone under the knife, but he’d heard it was true: surgeons want to do surgery.
But would they stoop to doing them illegally? Risk the years of schooling and internship for more money? It didn’t make sense. There had to be another angle to this.
Chapter Three
Cory stood at the head of the room, beaming. “Well, you did it again. I didn’t think you guys could be better than you were last week, but you were amazing today. I couldn’t get the hospital to move the keyboard up here, but they promised it next time. And I’ll have a surprise next week.”
The kids shouted, “What? What? Tell us.”
“I’m going to bring in a small PA system. We’ll have a mic and speaker. Maybe we’ll record something you can have your families listen to.”
A chorus of yays broke out.
“See you next week.”
Cory carried his guitar behind Katie, who said, “I remember going to see Raffi when I was, like, eight, and you’re miles better.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“You should do concerts. It’d blow up your career.”
“I used to do some, but the traveling kept me away from my family. And I wouldn’t be able to do this.”
“You really enjoy working with kids, don’t you?”
He smiled and put his guitar into its case. “I learned a while ago, and it wasn’t an easy lesson: helping kids, especially sick ones, is more important than any career. We can’t put making money ahead of curing cancer or getting a kid the organ he needs.”
“I know, it’s crazy, right. You know, sometimes, when I’m home, especially at night, one of the kids pop into my head and I’m, like, sad, you know? I’m here, like, every day, and it still bothers me. I bet if people came here, they’d change their minds.”
Cory shrugged. “You’re right. Maybe it was the roller-coaster I was on. It opened my eyes—all the money, and people fawning over you like you were some kind of god. Everybody has to do what they feel they gotta do, but it didn’t work for me. I got to do something meaningful, something with a higher purpose.”
“The world needs more people like you.”
“I’m no angel. Say, how’s Bobby doing? He wasn’t here today.”
“They said he was going for some nuclear test.”
“I hope he’s doing better. See you later.”
Cory took the elevator to the nephrology floor. An antiseptic smell strengthened as he found Bobby Kennedy’s room. The kid’s parents were sitting at his bedside. Cory knocked on the open door. “Hi, just stopped in to see how Bobby is doing.”
Eyes on Cory’s guitar, the father stood. “I’m John, Bobby’s dad.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Cory. I volunteer here.”
The woman stood. “Hi, I’m Valerie. Bobby told us about you. You’re a big star.”
Cory shook hands and said, “Hey, Bobby. How you doing?”
“He’s tire
d from the test. They injected him with nuclear material to see how the kidneys are doing.”
“Oh. So that’s why you’re glowing.”
Bobby managed a weak smile.
“We missed you today. I just wanted to say hello.”
The father said, “Thank you for stopping in.”
Cory said, “No problem. I’ll see you, buddy.”
The father walked him to the door, and Cory said, “I know it’s none of my business, but I get what you did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Going outside the system for a transplant.”
“We didn’t—”
“Look, I would’ve done the same thing if it were my kid. In fact, we tried to do it for my mother-in-law, but she died before we could get one for her.”
Kennedy hung his head. “It was a fucking mistake, they almost killed him.”
“Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Yeah? You see him now? And it’s all my fault.”
“You took action. At least you weren’t waiting years, watching twenty percent of the people on the list die each year.”
He frowned. “We didn’t know what to do.”
“It’s a big mess.”
He shook his head. “And to think I paid a hundred grand . . . what a fool.”
“The transplant system is broken. I’m no expert, but I’ve been volunteering at Mount Sinai for five years, and the numbers aren’t good here, or anywhere, for that matter.”
“When they first said he needed a transplant, we went right to the Internet, and it was shocking. Over a hundred thousand people waiting for organs, and twenty people a day dying, day after day. I didn’t want Bobby to be one of them.”
“Look, I want to use whatever status I have, get a few people in the music business on board as well, and get the word out about the need to donate organs. You don’t hear anybody talking about it. It’s never in the news. I bet if people could see what kids like Bobby are going through, they’d think about donating. That’s what got me to be a donor.”
The father hung his head. “You’re right. I’m part of the problem too. You’d think I’d be the first one to sign up as a donor.”
“That’s my point. We can do better, and we will, if we get the word out.”
“I hope it’s not too late for Bobby.”
“It’s not. In the meantime, we got to try to shut down some of these butcher shops before they do more damage.”
He nodded.
“How did you find out about who you went to?”
The father looked at the ground but said nothing.
“Look, I’m just curious and want to help. And you know, like I said, when my mother-in-law was sick, we got in touch with a lawyer who made the arrangements. It was double what you paid.”
“Yeah, well look what the cheaper price got me.”
“Who’d you go to?”
“I didn’t go anywhere; they came to us. This woman approached us one day as we came into the hospital. She said she was with the International Association of Transplants.”
“I never heard of them.”
“They don’t exist. It was a cover.”
“Who was the woman?”
“We never saw her again. She gave us a number to call that’s now disconnected. And this Asian man told us to go to this place on Baxter Street in Chinatown. It was like being on a spy mission. Another lady took us in a Lincoln to the W Hotel, where we met with this guy, Chou. He was slick, now that I think of it, but reassured us everything would go well.”
“How did they handle the payment?”
“They sent somebody to the house. On a motorcycle, if you can believe it. We gave them half and then when they picked us up—”
“They picked you up?”
“Yeah, the day we took Bobby out of Mt. Sinai, they came over right after, in a van. They took us to this surgery place.”
“Where was it?”
“No idea. We couldn’t see anything, and while the surgery went on, we had to stay inside this room, no windows or anything. We saw Bobby after. He looked okay. They took us home. We didn’t want to leave him, but that was the deal. They came back the next day and he seemed all right, but the day after, we knew he was getting worse and they knew it too. So, we took him back to here.”
“And you have no idea who they were or where you were?”
He wagged his head. “No. It makes me sick that I was so frigging naive. Man, I’d like to get these bastards.”
Chapter Four
Cory stepped into the apartment. The aroma of cumin was in the air. He put his guitar in the studio and headed to the kitchen.
“Hey, Linda, I’m home.”
“Hi.”
“Making tacos?”
“Yep. How was your day?”
He shrugged. “Remember that kid with the botched transplant?”
“Of course.”
“I talked to the father—”
“You did what?”
“Bobby wasn’t in the rec room today, so I went to see how he was doing, and his parents were there.”
“How is he?”
“He had a nuclear test today and was beat. Anyway, the father told me all about what went down. It’s like a horror flick.”
“What do you mean?
He filled his wife in. Linda said, “Don’t get involved, Cory. These people are dangerous.”
“I guess so.”
“Guess so? They’re switching locations, hiding people in vans, picking up money on a motorcycle? It’s a Hollywood movie, and somebody always gets killed in them.”
“I feel bad for the parents. It’s sad they’re so desperate. They were willing to pay, and it backfired.”
“Where do these people get the organs from?”
“Evans, he’s the big shot in the Mount Sinai transplant unit, he said with kidneys they prey on the poor. Like that 60 Minutes show we saw on India’s black market.”
“That was Americans and British going to India. This is happening here?”
“Yeah, it’s crazy to think we got Americans who need money so bad, they sell a kidney.”
“It’s horrible.”
“Maybe there’s a way to incent people to be donors.”
“You mean pay them?”
“Why not? Come up with a system, say, pay people a thousand dollars to become a donor. Make it so that you couldn’t back out unless you paid it back. Can you imagine how many would sign up?”
“It would solve the shortage right away.”
“Not immediately. You’d have to wait for people to die and weed out organs with disease and stuff.”
“It’s still a good idea.”
“Or what about taking people sixty-five or so and healthy. They figure they got another twenty years to live and need money. Maybe they can be paid a chunk of dough to give up a kidney.”
“What?”
“It would give them money for their retirement, and they’d recover. They could live the rest of their life with one kidney.”
“That’s still taking advantage of poor people.”
“I don’t think it’s as bad. They’d have to wait until a later age to do it.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’ll buy time before they figure out how to grow organs in some lab.”
“Ow. That sounds like Frankenstein.”
“It’s no different than using a human organ.”
“You think they’ll be able to do that?”
“I saw something on the web about it; they’re working on it.”
“Can you imagine what they’ll be doing in twenty to thirty years?”
“We may benefit from it, but anybody on a waiting list will be dead in five years.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It is, but what’s worse is going off-line to one of these black-market places for a transplant. It’s all about the money. People are getting maimed, killed, and nobody is stopping them.”
�
��It’s not your job to fix it—”
“I know, but the kids . . .”
“You’re not a cop.”
“I’m just going to see if me and a couple of others can get the message out about how dangerous these places are and ask people to become donors.”
* * *
Linda was watching the news as Tommy built a Lego building. She stood. “Oh my God. Cory! Come here.”
“What’s the matter, Mommy?”
Cory ran into the family room. “What’s going on?”
She pointed to the TV. “A boy was kidnapped, and they took his kidney.”
“That’s crazy.”
The newscaster said, “It’s the city’s second case this month. Authorities have launched an investigation into these bizarre cases.”
“I never heard anything about the first one. Did you?”
“No.”
“Mom! What’s wrong?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Something very bad happened to a boy.”
“What happened?”
“He was kidnapped at the park. That’s why we always tell you not to talk to strangers.”
“He was talking to a stranger?”
“Yes. Do me a favor and clean up your room. I have to vacuum, and your toys are all over the floor.”
“But I’m building something.”
“If your toys disappear into the vacuum, they’ll be gone forever.”
Tommy huffed and ran off.
Linda said, “This is so creepy. It’s like a horror movie.”
iPad in hand, Cory said, “Look at this. Reuters has an article on it, ‘Police Suspect Organ Theft.’ It says they believe it’s related to a New Jersey case where a kid with Down Syndrome was kidnapped and left by the East River. The cops originally thought it was related to a satanic cult active in Trenton. Now they suspect there’s an organ ring operating in the Tri-State Region targeting kids with Down.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible.”
“You see how heartless these bastards are? They’re kidnapping kids, with Down, to steal organs.”
“How can they get away with it?”
“How? The cops can’t stop people from shooting each other.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just frustrated, that’s all. It’s hard to believe this is happening here. But you know, I got a feeling kidnapping kids is going to backfire on them.”
Cory's Shift Page 2