Cory's Shift

by Dan Petrosini

  “You think?”

  “Kids are vulnerable. Everybody knows we got to protect them; they have to do something about it. I gotta do something about it.”

  “Don’t get involved, these people are dangerous.”

  “Trust me, I know, but I can’t just sit around.”

  Chapter Five

  Cory sat in the waiting room. His mind was spinning over the kidnappings. How could something like this happen? He stood when he saw Dr. Evans get off the elevator.

  “Hi, Doc, you have a couple of minutes?”

  Evans raised his eyebrows. “Not really.”

  “I’ll make it quick.”

  “I can only spare five minutes.”

  He followed Mount Sinai’s head of transplants into his office.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “This kidnapping ring.”

  Evans bit his lip. “It’s concerning.”

  “I don’t get it. I mean, how do they use the kidneys? Don’t they need to match and have a recipient standing by?”

  “We’d hope they screen the victims. It’s my belief they’re sedating these children and screening for blood type at a minimum. Ideally, they’d run HLA testing, but based upon what we see with the Kennedy child . . .”

  “How do they get it done so fast?”

  “The first kid was released four days after he was taken, the second in five days. Either there was a complication with removal, or they needed a day for the recipient to be in position.”

  “Where do you think they’re keeping these kids?”

  “It could be anywhere. I think they’re sedated and brought in for surgery, maybe into a surgi center or, God forbid, a hospital.”

  “You think they do it in a real hospital?”

  “I doubt it, but I didn’t think anyone would harvest organs from a kidnap victim.”

  * * *

  Cory stood in front of a podium in Mount Sinai’s lobby. Behind him were ten well-known musicians, an aging movie star, and a handful of hospital staff.

  He smiled at the reporters as they positioned their microphones. As they backed away, Cory said, “Okay, looks like we’re ready to go.” He shifted his weight. “A couple years ago, I stood here asking for help in the fight to cure childhood cancer. I didn’t just ask. I tried to do what I could by committing the lion’s share of the royalties I earn to Reach for the Stars, the trust I set up to research cures and make the lives of our children a bit better.

  “Fortunately, many of you responded to my plea. Actually, my wife says it was begging, but I’m cool with that.”

  The gatherers laughed. “Today, I want to talk to you about something you probably just heard about. And that’s illegal organ transplants. These poor kids who were kidnapped, right here, not in some third-world country, but in New York City.

  “As disgusting and shocking as it is, illegal organ transplants have been going on in the United States for years. It doesn’t get much attention from the press, but it should. These dangerous transplants prey on the poor and sick. But to me, it starts with the demand. With people wanting them so badly, they’ll do anything to get one.

  “It sounds crazy, right? People going to the black market for organs. Most of these illegal operations use second-rate surgeons and do them in places less than ideal. Why would anybody do that, you ask?

  “It’s simple; the waiting list for organs is too long. About twenty percent of the people on the list, including many children, die each year. Being on an organ list is as close to a death sentence as you can get.”

  Cory wagged his head. “People feel they don’t have a choice, and go outside the system. But instead of saving their lives, they’re putting them at risk while enriching criminals. For those thinking about selling your organs, I beg you not to do it.

  “Now, what can we do? You knew I was going to have an ask for you, and the good news is you don’t have to pony up any money this time. I have two requests: the first is become a donor. It’s a simple thing that costs nothing and will save lives. Where else can you have an impact like that? It’s an easy process, and you can do it at organdonor.gov.

  “We also need you, especially the media, to spread the word against illegal transplanting. We need to raise public awareness about this practice and pressure law enforcement to shut down these operators.

  “What kind of society can’t protect its children from being snatched off the streets for their organs? We got to fix this, now. There’s no time to waste. So, become a donor, and spread the word. Thanks for coming today, please do your part.”

  Cory hung around for an hour talking with the press and friends. The vibe was good, but a question his buddy Donny posed haunted him: If people stop selling their organs, the black-market supply would go down, so, wouldn’t that force the operators to resort to more kidnapping?

  * * *

  Cory came out of the study. “Man, must be a slow news day or something. I just hung up with the New York Post, and before that it was the Daily News calling.”

  “That’s what you wanted. It was on the news two times already.”

  “Wow, I’m surprised at the attention this is getting. I’m not exactly a chart-topper anymore.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but it’s not you, it’s the Down Syndrome kids these animals are kidnapping.”

  “Yeah, I know. It just feels weird to get all these calls.”

  “Give the press a day and they’ll move on to the next story.”

  “I don’t think this is going away so fast.”

  “Why’s that?’

  “If another kid goes missing and—” He pulled out his phone. “It’s probably The Times, they’re the only one left.”

  “Hello . . . What the hell?” Cory raised his voice. “Who is this?”

  Chapter Six

  Cory stared at his phone. Linda asked, “Who was that?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Nobody? It didn’t sound like nobody.”

  “Just a nut saying something stupid.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “For me to keep my mouth shut.”

  “About what? The illegal transplants?”

  “Yeah, he said if I kept going to the media, I’d regret it.”

  “He threatened you?”

  Cory nodded. “He’s just a lunatic.”

  “No, maybe not. I told you these people were dangerous.”

  “Don’t get carried away.”

  “You’ve got to report this to the police.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Are you crazy? These people kidnapped kids, innocent, disabled children. They’re the lowest thing on earth.”

  “What are they going to do? Kidnap me?”

  Linda bored her eyes into Cory. “You forget you have kids of your own?”

  “Of course not.”

  “These people are savages; you can’t tell what they’d do.”

  “Take it easy. I’ll stop. Okay?”

  “Please. We can’t take a chance, not with Tommy and Ava.”

  “I doubt anything would happen, but I’m done.”

  “Good.”

  “I can’t get over this guy called.”

  “You should report it.”

  “The cops will say it’s nothing. If he calls again, I’ll take it to the police.”

  “What did he sound like? Was he, like, mean?”

  “He had a Chinese accent.”

  “They’re Asian, like that kid’s parents said?”

  “I guess it could be that guy, uh, Chou, they dealt with. I think that’s what they said his name was.”

  “You think it’s the same man?”

  “I doubt it. It’d be too risky for him to be making calls. He probably has somebody do his dirty work.”

  “How big a gang do you think they are?”

  “Tough to say, but you need a lot of people involved to pull it off. Somebody has to find the kids to kidnap and watch them. Then they got people to sedate
them. It’s got to be someone who knows medicine.”

  “Maybe a nurse.”

  “Could be. They also need people to deal with the family of the recipient. Plus the doctors to do the operation and keep an eye on the recoveries.”

  “It’s got to be highly organized.”

  “It doesn’t get more complicated than a transplant.”

  “We’ve got to tell the police. Maybe they can trace the call.”

  “He probably used a burner phone, so it can’t be traced.”

  “Maybe he didn’t. It’s worth a try. We’ve got to do what we can to stop this.”

  “You just told me to back off.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Stop talking to the media about this. All I’m saying is tell the police about the call.”

  “All right. I got to finish mixing that jingle I’m working on. Can you find out what precinct or detective is dealing with this?”

  When he was finished working on the radio ditty, he called Brooklyn’s Seventy-Fifth Police Precinct. There was a lot of background noise when the call was answered.

  “Detective Belfi.”

  “Hi, Detective, my name’s Cory Lupinski.”

  “The singer-songwriter?”

  “Yeah, you saw the press conference?”

  “I did, but my daughter was a big fan a few years back.”

  “Cool.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I got a strange call and figured you should know.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, I’ve been trying to get the word out about people becoming organ donors and how dangerous this illegal ring is, and some guy called and threatened me.”

  “How so?”

  “He said if I didn’t stop drawing attention to the kidnapping of children for organs that I’d regret it.”

  “Did he make a direct threat?”

  “No, just that I better stop, or I’d regret it. You know, I’ve got two kids and I, well, you know, can’t take any chances.”

  “Certainly not. Was there anything about the man you can tell me?”

  “He was Chinese for sure. He had a Mandarin accent, so probably from China.”

  “How do you know it’s Mandarin and not another dialect?”

  “I make my living with my ears. I spent a lot of time as a kid in Chinatown. I can tell the difference.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, it lines up with what we’ve been hearing about a ring out of China.”

  “Wow. What do you know?”

  “Can’t discuss an active investigation. Now, this Asian man probably used a burner, but if you’ll allow us to check, we might get lucky.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “You’ll have to sign off on an authorization for Verizon to release your phone records. It’ll be limited to today.”

  “No problem. Happy to help. I want to shut these guys down.”

  “We all do. If this guy or anyone for that matter, contacts you again, let me know immediately. Don’t do anything stupid. We don’t know much about this gang, but what we do know is they’re ruthless.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cory came out of the vocal booth. He’d laid down six tracks of the new tune. He thought the second take was the best but looked forward to listening to all of them and choosing.

  The sound engineer stuck his head in. “Hey, Cory!”

  “Yo, what’s up?”

  “You better call your wife. She called three times.”

  “You got it.” He took his cell phone out of his backpack. Linda had called five times.

  He punched in her number. “Sorry, I was—”

  “Is Tommy with you?”

  “Tommy?”

  “Do you have Tommy?”

  “No, I’ve—”

  “He’s missing.”

  “What?”

  “I went to pick him up at Taekwondo, and they said he left with a man.”

  “How could they just let him go with a stranger?”

  “It was a new girl, she thought it was you.”

  “How the fuck could they do that?”

  “Who could’ve picked him up? You think it was Donny?”

  “No, I saw him this morning. He was going to the Van Gelder Studio in Englewood.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Call the police. I’ll meet you at home.”

  Cory grabbed his stuff and ran out of the studio.

  * * *

  A patrol car was double-parked in front of his building, and Cory took the stairs two at a time.

  Cory burst into the apartment. Mascara was running down her face as Linda talked to two officers.

  “Any news?”

  Linda embraced him. “My Tommy. Where is he?”

  “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

  He walked her to the couch and asked, “What’s being done to find my son?”

  “We’ve interviewed the woman at the Taekwondo place, and she’s working with a sketch artist for a rendering of the man your son left with.”

  “How long is this going to take? We can’t wait for a picture—”

  An officer held his hand up. “The studio didn’t have any cameras, but we have someone going to the surrounding businesses to see what kind of CCTV footage there may be.”

  Cory said, “What else?”

  “We’ve issued an Amber Alert and are monitoring the bridges and tunnels.”

  “Call Detective Belfi. He’s with the Seventy-Fifth Precinct.”

  “What’s his involvement in this?”

  “Just a hunch. I was threatened a week ago by this Chinese guy because—just call him, he has to know. This may be related.”

  Linda said, “Oh my God, you think they took him?”

  “Who, ma’am?”

  “The transplant ring.”

  Cory said, “Call him, will you?”

  An officer stepped into the kitchen and called the detective. They spoke for a few minutes, and the cop came back in.

  “Belfi doesn’t think there’s a relationship. The phone was a burner, but they used cell-tower location data to place the call from somewhere in Chinatown.”

  “It’s got to be them.”

  “We’re going to check into every possible cause, but we can’t discount the possibility he wandered off.”

  “But they said a man took him.”

  “We’re going on the assumption it might be an abduction, but we have to organize a search party to walk the streets in the area in case he’s lost. Okay?”

  “All right.”

  “We need a family member or friend we can trust to organize people who know your son.”

  “I’ll call Donny and Margaret.”

  “Good. We also need to organize a press conference.”

  “What?”

  “We need your son’s face on the news. If somebody remembers seeing him, it’ll help.”

  “We should get posters made. Ava can do that.”

  Linda’s cell phone rang. “It’s the Taekwondo studio!”

  The officer said, “Answer it.”

  “Hello?”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Oh my God. We’ll be right there.”

  “We’ll drive you, ma’am.”

  * * *

  Linda and Cory rushed into the studio. Face pressed against the glass, Tommy was watching a class of white-robed kids being led through movements.

  “Mom, Dad!”

  The parents embraced their son. “Why’s the policeman here?”

  Linda’s voice cracked. “Because we were worried someone took you.”

  “Don’t cry, Mommy. He was a nice man.”

  Cory said, “We told you never to go with a stranger. Didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, but he said Mom was hurt, and he was going to take me to the hospital to see her.”

  “Never, ever, do that again. No matter what they say, don’t believe them
. Never go with anyone unless it’s a neighbor or one of our friends. Okay?”

  Tommy nodded.

  “Promise.”

  “Yes.”

  Cory said, “What else did this man say?”

  The police officer stepped forward. “Hi, Tommy. I’m Officer Salvitti. You gave everyone a good scare.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s okay. I have a couple of questions. You think you can help the police catch this man?”

  “Like in the movies?”

  “Yep. Only this time for real.”

  Salvitti crouched down. “What did the man look like?”

  “He had black hair and was Asian. He was nice.”

  “Was he tall, short, or in the middle, like me?” Salvitti stood.

  “Like you.”

  “Did he have any scars or tattoos?”

  “I didn’t see any.”

  “Did he tell you his name?”

  “Joe.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “We went that way.” He pointed left. “To the park.”

  “He told you that your mother was hurt?”

  “Yes, and we were going to see her in the hospital.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “That he told Daddy that bad things would happen.”

  “Do you know what he meant by that?”

  “I don’t know, just figured when somebody tells you not to do something and you do it anyway, you get hurt. Like the time Mommy told me not to skateboard on the stoop and I fell on the stairs.”

  Salvitti asked a couple more questions and finished with, “How did you get back here?”

  “The man said he got a text and that Mommy was okay and we started walking back. He said he had to go when we got to the corner over there and he left.”

  “What corner?”

  “The one by the bank.”

  “Okay. You’ve been very helpful, Tommy. On behalf of the entire police department, we thank you. Now, remember what your mother said about strangers; never go with them, no matter what they say or give you. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Thanks again.”

  He turned to Cory and Linda. “I’d like to come by with a couple of books of photos. See if your son could pick out this man.”

  Cory said, “Okay, but you got to tell Detective Belfi. I’m telling you, this is all connected.”

  Chapter Eight