“Will do, sir.”
“And find Li. Tell him I need to see him—now!”
Shu collapsed into his chair. They’d gone to Beijing Medical School together, and he had doubts about Dr. Fung. It was tough to admit, because they were similar.
They both wanted to be doctors, to cure sickness, and be a force for good. But what bonded Shu and Fung was their shared anxiety that overwhelmed their intelligence.
He recalled taking a leave of absence, telling Fung and the others he was going to get treated for a neurological disorder that led to his shaky hands and paralysis.
It took Fung an extra year of residency to become a doctor. Shu assumed he’d mastered his nerves, but should have known better. The bottom line was the Party kept its best in China.
Shu paced the room. Fung was out. He’d have to find someone to replace him. Recruiting doctors for their business operation was not only difficult but critical to their success.
Surgeons were in a class of their own. Shu tried to remember who’d said surgeons were like gunslingers. It was true, they were a cocky bunch. Even with the quietest of them, the god complex would seep out. People excused them, believing you had to be arrogant to think you could cut someone open and put them back together again.
He pulled up a list he’d received from Deputy Director Gao. He’d organized the inventory of prospective doctors recently, putting a few he’d met at the top, and now clicked on the first row.
The biography of Richie Ho opened. Thirty-four and single, Ho had served as the only surgeon in a small-town hospital outside of Xi’an.
Shu wanted to visit Xi’an to see the army of terracotta warriors that had been buried for centuries. Maybe he’d go there on his next trip to China. He’d mix a little pleasure in when he couriered cash to his partners.
He pulled out a burner phone and was punching in Ho’s number when Tay entered.
“What did you find out?”
“The donor died at Mt. Sinai.”
Shu’s shoulders sagged. “Terrible news. What was Fung thinking?”
“Li is on his way to see him, and then he’ll meet up with you.”
“Fung discarded the boy like an animal carcass. We’re here to give life. This is an unspeakable breach of the oath he took.”
“The recipient is doing well. And Edgar’s been told to keep him an extra day.”
“This is a stain on what we do. We can’t tolerate this kind of attention. It will destroy all the hard work we’ve done.”
“What can I do to help?”
“We’re going to need our friends in the media to plant an alternative story or two.”
“Good idea.”
“Give me a minute to think it through, but something along the lines of a cult. Maybe something with voodoo, a sect that feasts on organs.”
“I like that. The Americans will love the story.”
“I need time to think.”
As Tay retreated, Shu slumped in his chair. What was he doing, making up outlandish stories? People like Fung were a liability. They endangered the progress he’d achieved. He couldn’t let people like Fung make him go from a rising star to a fool in the Party’s eyes.
Shu recalled suggesting to Gao the idea to start a transplant operation in the States. It was a perfect way to stay close to medicine. If he couldn’t practice medicine himself, Shu could still save lives and advance the techniques used.
It had been a success from the start, helping the sick with the added benefit of burnishing his reputation with the Party. There was no way anyone was going to disrupt his operation.
Chapter Fifteen
The restaurant on Mott Street was jammed and loud. Shu tipped his chin toward an elderly man at the register and made his way to a private room in the rear.
Dr. Richie Ho rose as he entered. “Mr. Shu, how are you?”
Shu wanted to correct the salutation, but Ho was friendly with Dr. Fung and knew Shu didn’t finish medical school. “Sit, sit. You ever been here before?”
“No, first time.”
“You’ll love it. Some of the best Szechuan in the city.”
“I’m in your hands.”
Shu waved the waiter over and ordered in Chinese.
“Ordered a taste of a couple of their best dishes.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Let’s get the business part out of the way. Shall we?”
“Sure.”
“Last time we met, I mentioned the transplant operation we started about a year ago. It’s an excellent way to gain experience for a young surgeon like you. It’s really a one-of-a-kind opportunity.”
Ho lowered his voice, “Are you still operating in the black market?”
“Black market? I believe that’s an unfair characterization of what we do.”
“I’m sorry, but how else can it be characterized?”
“Filling an unmet need. Some people need organs, and others, money. It’s as perfect an exchange as they come. Our role is to make sure the donors and recipients are as safe as possible.”
“Paying people for their organs is unethical.”
“And watching people die as they wait for one is not? And what about the fact we’re helping a donor with a payment that elevates their lifestyle and reduces financial stress?”
“I see the possible benefits for two willing parties, but I’ve heard there are, uh, unwilling donors.”
“Sometimes it’s necessary to use unconventional means to save a life.”
“Unconventional?”
“We’re no different than the traditional organ supply system. We both have shortages, except, when we do, we take remedial action.”
“But it’s illegal. I’d be risking my license.”
“The Party understands the delicate nature of the operation and rewards those who help, handsomely.”
“I understand, but—”
“This operation is overseen by the Central Committee, and they consider it an important project.”
“I could go to jail.”
“That’s extremely unlikely. The American authorities are not interested in us. Besides, if a serious investigation were to take place, anyone in danger would be flown out of the country.”
“How could they do that?”
“There are many avenues to use, but the Party has used diplomatic immunity in the past when a loyal member is scrutinized. There is nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t know. I appreciate the offer, but it just doesn’t feel right for me.”
“Are you positive?”
“Definitely.”
Shu stood. “That’s unfortunate. I’ll advise Beijing immediately. They demand to know bad news as soon as possible. They’re not going to take the refusal lightly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Their reaction is out of my control, but those who’ve refused in the past . . . well, let’s leave it that there are consequences for them and their families.”
“My family? What do they have to do with it?”
“I’m not involved in their decisions, but they believe those who have benefited from the Party’s greater vision must show gratitude.”
“I am, but—”
“You could be stuck in the backwaters of Xi’an, yet here you are in New York, performing surgeries. You think you achieved this on your own? If the Party hadn’t chosen you to attend better schools, where do you think you’d be? Consider if they hadn’t allowed you to go to medical school or obtain the visa to come to America.” Shu snapped his fingers. “And just like that, it can disappear.”
“Hold on. Sit down a minute. I wasn’t thinking properly. I understand the Party has assisted me; I’ll do whatever they need.”
Shu smiled and sat down. “Excellent. You’ve made a wise choice.”
“I hope so.”
“You’re going to love the hotpot here. It’s the best outside of China.”
* * *
Shu was behind his desk, scouring the I
nternet for the latest information on guided, robotic surgery when Tay came in. He picked up the TV remote and navigated to the news.
“Sorry, but you need to see this.”
A newscaster was standing in front of Mr. and Mrs. Hendry. She said, “We’ll keep you informed on the investigation into this heinous crime. Live from Battery Park, I’m Chelsea Sonos.”
“They went on TV again. I thought they wanted to stay out of the limelight.”
“Cory Lupinski has been to see them. He’s the one who got them to start talking again.”
“Are you certain?”
“A hundred percent. We’ve been told he’s behind the pictures getting out.”
“Fung. Damn it! We can’t have the parents running around in the media. It makes it too real. It’ll generate too much sympathy, and the authorities might be forced to act.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Perhaps we can start an anonymous fund for the parents. No, let’s make a large, anonymous donation to the United Network for Organ Sharing. Make sure to have our media friends make a big deal of it. Play the good-comes-out-of-bad angle, you know, the money wouldn’t have come if not for the tragic—etcetera, etcetera.”
Chapter Sixteen
Shu put the menu aside. A server poured tea for him and Li. When she left, Li said, “What are we going to do? The heat is too high to continue. We’ll have to shut down for a while.”
Shu shook his head. “We’re certainly not taking a breather. We have a backlog of clients to serve.”
“But we have to wait.”
“We wait, they die”—he let it hang before continuing—“and we make nothing.”
“We should ask for more money upfront.”
“I tend to agree with you. But Beijing believes it would cut into the number of recipients. They have a point; these patients are skeptical and ill. We don’t need to present an additional hurdle for them.”
The waitress set down a plate of dumplings and hurried away. Li inhaled deeply. “Smells good.”
“Best in the city.”
“What do you want to do about that bigmouth?”
“This Lupinski is quite surprising. He’s still a professional musician, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but he’s one of those activists when it comes to children. He’s trying to cure cancer and—”
“Ah, another American superhero.” Shu speared a dumpling.
Li laughed. “I’ll have Eng and his guys stuff his cape down his throat before we throw him in the East River.”
“As good as that would feel, we can’t risk igniting a firestorm. The last thing we want to do is make him a martyr.”
“Agreed. So, what are you thinking of?”
Shu grinned. “Something he wouldn’t expect. Why don’t we have a little fun with this? I have a plan in mind that’ll ensure this gnat minds his business.”
“Sounds good. Just give the word and I’ll get it done.”
“I want to wait a bit. Let’s see if this dies down on its own.”
“Okay.”
“Now, I’m losing patience with Mr. Wong. I believe another visit needs to be made. We need sites to replace the Green Tree facilities.”
“He’s been a problem. How hard should I push?”
“We don’t have time.”
“Don’t worry. Wong will see the wisdom of doing business with us.”
“Offer him an extra ten thousand per procedure. If he doesn’t come around, press until he caves. When he does, tell him the extra money is off the table.”
* * *
Shu slammed the phone down. Two of five prospects they’d been courting decided against a transplant. He muttered, “Fools, they’ll both be dead in a year.”
He placed a piece of gum in his mouth, contemplating whether the Hendry news had scared them. Or were they taking the moral high ground to their grave? Shu grabbed the phone and buzzed Tay.
“Tell Li I need to see him. Immediately.”
“I just saw him on the camera, pulling into the lot.”
“Perfect.”
A minute later, Li walked into Shu’s office.
“You needed me?”
“Have a seat. We need to be ready to deal with Cory Lupinski.”
“No problem.”
“We’ve got to be careful but effective. He must understand we can’t tolerate meddling in our affairs.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“It’s a delicate maneuver, one that will probably bring more media attention in the short term but will convince Lupinski to back off completely.”
Li moved to the edge of his seat. “Sounds interesting.”
“You’ll need your best men. No hiccups will be tolerated. We must have plausible deniability.”
“Tell me.”
Shu leaned over his desk and whispered the plan he’d concocted. Li smiled. “That’s as good as it gets.”
“Wait for the go-ahead. But make sure your best team is in place and ready.”
“I’ll get it organized today.”
Li left, and Shu ran the possible reactions and outcomes of his plan through his mind. It was dangerous, but he knew the best rewards always came from bold action.
Shu swapped his chewing gum for a fresh piece and picked up the Journal of Heart and Lung Transplantation. The organs represented the most difficult operations and had troublesome survival rates.
When he’d started out, Shu assumed heart transplants had the worst survival rates but learned lungs had higher mortality rates. After three years, only 60 percent of the recipients were alive compared to 75 percent for those receiving a new heart.
Shu wondered whether the practice Chinese doctors got on prisoners was improving the odds of living longer with someone else’s heart.
It was an important program started by Shu’s business partner Gao, who had encouraged his interest in medicine. When Shu expressed an interest in transplants, Gao permitted him to observe transplants on inmates.
Shu recalled the first time he witnessed the removal of a prisoner’s heart. It was the ultimate example of the power over life which surgeons wielded. He’d envisioned himself in the doctor’s shoes, but it was not to be.
He wondered whether advancements in artificial intelligence would present another chance for him to become a doctor and decided to search the web for new information.
Shu opened his browser as his phone rang. It was Tay. The news was bad. Shu called Li to activate his plan.
Chapter Seventeen
The pizzeria was noisy and hot. Cory said, “Tommy, you want the last slice?”
“No, I’m full. Can I get a spumoni?”
Linda said, “You still have the one from last week in the freezer.”
“Is it still good?”
“Yes, it’s ice cream.”
“Can I have it when we get home?”
Cory reached for the last piece as Linda said, “Sure.”
Cory took a bite and said, “Go wash up.”
Linda watched Tommy go into the bathroom and took her phone out. “She still hasn’t called or answered my text.”
“She’s probably got her headphones on.”
“It should go through them.”
“Maybe she’s in the shower.”
“Probably. I’m gonna order a calzone to take home for her.”
Cory carried the bag of food up the stairs. He moved the bag from hand to hand. “This is so hot, it’s crazy.”
Linda opened the door and Tommy hurried to the kitchen. Linda called out, “Ava! Ava, we’re home.”
Cory said, “I’ll set the table for her.”
Tommy had a spoonful of ice cream. “Mom, you want some?”
“No, honey. Ava’s not here.”
“Maybe she’s at Skylar’s.”
“She better not be with Bruce. She said he’s home from college.”
“Take it easy. Call Skylar’s house. I’m going to put the calzone in the oven to keep it warm.�
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Linda came back into the kitchen. “Skylar said she’s not there, that Ava told her she was going home to finish a history paper that’s due tomorrow.”
“Where the heck is she? You got this kid, Bruce’s, number?”
“No. But his mother is friendly with Rosalie.”
“Call her.”
Linda made the call, got the boy’s number, and called him.
“Bruce? This is Linda, Ava’s mom. Is Ava with you?”
“Uh, no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ve been home all day. I twisted my ankle playing basketball.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Not today.”
“Do me a favor, save my number. If you hear from her, call me.”
* * *
Cory came into the apartment and shook his head. “I went to the park, the diner, and basketball courts; she’s not there.”
“Oh God, Cory. I’ve called everybody. No one knows where she is.”
“It’s ten o’clock. If we don’t hear from her in an hour, we call the police.”
“I can’t wait an hour. What if she’s in trouble?”
“Don’t get excited. She could be at a movie or—”
“Then why doesn’t she answer her phone?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the battery’s dead.”
“She’d use a friend’s. Something is wrong, Cory.”
“All right. I’ll call the police.”
An hour later, Cory was looking out the window as a squad car pulled up. “The cops are finally here.”
Linda and Cory told the uniformed officer what they knew. He said, “You checked with her friends?”
Linda said, “Yes, first thing I did.”
“Does she have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Is it possible that she’s run away?”
“No, never. Besides, all her stuff is here.”
“Has she ever been in trouble?”
“You mean with the law?”
“Yes, or at school.”
“No. She’s a good kid. I know everybody says it, but Ava really is.”
“Okay. Chances are she’s just being a teenager, but since she’s a minor, we can’t take a chance. I’ll need some pictures of her. They have to be current.”
Cory's Shift Page 6