by Robin Cook
When he'd gotten the appropriate individual on the phone, he outlined the case of inhalational anthrax that had come from the Bronx General Hospital and asked if there were any cases in their hospital that might be anthrax. The responses had been uniformly negative, but at least Jack felt he was planting the seed of suspicion with the right people.
In that way, if a case did come in or if they had a case undiagnosed, they'd at least think about it.
Anthrax was never high on any New York hospital house staffs differential diagnosis list.
The chief resident in infectious disease at Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center picked up Jack's page, and Jack went through his spiel.
Although shocked to hear about Mr. Papparis, the resident assured Jack that there was no one in his medical center who'd be considered a candidate for a diagnosis of anthrax.
Jack hung up and looked over to the open page in the yellow telephone directory for the number of another hospital. Before he could dial, the phone rang. He picked it up eagerly. But it wasn't a resident calling him back with potentially interesting news. It was Mrs. Sanford, the chiefs secretary, with a familiar request. The chief wanted to see Jack ASAP.
Hardly in the mood for bureaucratic nonsense, as Jack termed his frequent run-ins with the front office, he took the elevator down to the first floor. Like a schoolboy expecting to be chastised, he presented himself to Mrs. Cheryl Sanford, who smiled at him and winked. Over the years Jack and Cheryl had become well acquainted, since every time the chief demanded Jack come quickly, Jack invariably had to wait. The time provided an opportunity for friendly conversation.
Jack winked back. It was part of an established method of nonverbal communication the two had evolved. It meant that Jack could relax, since the upcoming confrontation with the chief was procedural only, meaning the chief felt obligated, not motivated, to bawl Jack out for whatever the transgression was.
"How's that boy of yours? " Jack asked as he sat down on the rockhard vinyl sofa across from the secretary's desk. The door to the chiefs office was to Cheryl's left and it was always ajar. The chief could be heard on the phone.
"Just fine, " Cheryl said proudly. "He's still getting all A's in school."
"Fantastic, " Jack said. By coincidence Jack knew Cheryl's son, Arnold.
Occasionally he played basketball on the same court as Jack. He was a agressive individual with obvious natural skill. Cheryl, an African American single mother, lived in a building on 105thStreet that Jack could see from his bedroom window.
"He says he hopes to be able to play basketball as well as you some day, " Cheryl said.
Jack let out a derisive laugh. "He's going to be ten times better than I ever was." Jack was not exaggerating, Arnold had only recently turned fifteen and yet was a player sought after even by Warren.
"I'd prefer to see him take after your doctoring skills, " Cheryl said.
"He's expressed some interest, " Jack said. "He and I had a chat last week when we were both waiting to get into the game."
"He told me, " Cheryl said. "I appreciate you taking the time."
"Hey, he's a nice kid, " Jack said. "It's a pleasure talking with him."
At that moment the chief, Dr. Harold Bingham, bellowed for Jack to get the hell into his office.
Jack stood up and headed for the door. As he passed Cheryl's desk she whispered, "Be nice now!
Don't aggravate him! He'll be a bear all day." The chief was ensconced behind his massive, cluttered desk.
He'd just reached his sixty-fifth birthday and looked every bit of it.
In the four years Jack had been working at the OCME, Bingham's bulbous nose had seemingly expanded along with the web of capillaries hugging his nasal alae. Light from the window behind him bounced off his perspiring bald pate to create a glare that made Jack squint.
"Sit down! " Dr. Bingham commanded.
Jack did as he was told and waited. He had no idea what he'd been called down for but knew there were lots of potential topics.
"Don't you get tired of this routine? " Bingham questioned. He narrowed his rheumy, steel-blue eyes that were unwaveringly studying Jack through wire-rimmed glasses. Although he looked as old as Methuselah, the chief was as sharp as ever and was a veritable walking encyclopedia of forensic data and experience. He was recognized the world over as one of the giants of the field.
"It's nice to see you once in a while, chief, " Jack said. He winced, he knew by his flippancy he'd already ignored Cheryl's admonition.
Bingham took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with his thick fingers. He shook his head. "Sometimes I wish you weren't quite as sharp as you are, because then I'd know exactly what to do with you."
"Thank you for the compliment, chief. I needed a little boost today."
"The problem is, you are one big pain in the ass." Jack bit his tongue. A few witty quips came to his mind, but he resisted voicing them in deference to Cheryl. After all, she had to be around Bingham for the rest of the day. Bingham's temper was almost as legendary as his wealth of forensic knowledge.
"Do you have any idea why you're down here? " Bingham demanded.
"I refuse to answer on grounds of self-incrimination, " Jack said.
Bingham smiled in spite of himself, but the grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "You are a trip, my boy. But listen! I got a call from Dr. Patricia Markham, the Commissioner of Health, a little while ago.
Seems you've been aggravating the city epidemiologist again, Dr.. ..
" Bingham slipped on his glasses and rummaged through the papers in front of him looking for the name.
"Dr. Abelard, " Jack offered.
"Yeah, that's the one, " Bingham said.
"What was the charge? " Jack asked.
"He was angry that you were doing his job, " Bingham said. "What's the matter? Don't we give you enough to do around here? "
"I called the man, as Dr. Washington suggested, " Jack said. "I thought he'd want to know about the case of anthrax I diagnosed."
"So I heard from Calvin, " Bingham said.
"But Dr. Abelard took the news in stride, " Jack said. "He said he'd get to it when he had time, or something like that."
"But I understand the source is locked up tight in Queens, " Bingham said.
"True, " Jack admitted.
"Yet you took it on yourself to go out and rifle through the victim's business records, " Bingham snapped. "What's the matter with you, are you crazy? What if some civil liberty lawyer got ahold of this?
You didn't have a warrant or anything."
"I asked the man's wife, " Jack said with a shrug.
"Oh, that would hold up well in court, " Bingham said sarcastically.
"I was worried that some of the victim's recent shipment had been sold.
If it had, then the anthrax could have spread. We could have had a mini-epidemic."
"Dr. Abelard is right, " Bingham fumed. "What you're talking about is his job, not yours."
"We're supposed to be protecting the public, " Jack said. "I felt there was a risk that Dr. Abelard was not addressing. He wasn't giving the situation the attention it deserved."
"When you feel that way about a fellow civil servant, then come to me!"
" Bingham roared. "Instead of you running around playing epidemiologist detective, I could have called Pat Markham. As Commissioner of Health she can surely get people up off their fat asses if need be.
That's the way the system is supposed to work."
"Okay, " Jack said with a shrug. In further deference to Cheryl he wasn't about to get into an argument about bureaucratic inefficiency and frequent civil servant incompetence. It had been Jack's experience as a city worker that all too often if he didn't do something himself it didn't get done.
"Fine, then get the hell out, " Bingham said with a wave of his hand.
His mind had already switched to the next problem on his agenda.
Jack got up and walked out of the chiefs office. He paused at Cheryl'
s desk. "How'd I do? "
"Honestly, about a C, " Cheryl said with a wry smile. "But since you generally get an F, meaning you aggravate him to a point just shy of apoplexy, I'd say you're showing progress." Jack waved and started for the corridor. But he didn't get far. Calvin caught sight of him through his open office door.
"How's progress on the David Jefferson case? " Calvin yelled.
Jack leaned in through the door. "Nothing's back yet. Did you call John Devries up in toxicology to speed things up from his lab? "
"Right after I said I would, " Calvin said.
"Okay, then I'll head up there right now, " Jack said.
"Remember, I want that case signed out by Thursday! " Calvin said.
Jack gave the deputy chief a thumbsup sign even though he doubted it was going to happen, since all the lab work wouldn't be back. But there was no use arguing about it now. Instead, Jack took an elevator to the fourth floor. There was always the chance of a miracle.
Jack found John Devries in his tiny, windowless cubicle and asked about the prisoner-in-custody case.
In response, John launched into an impassioned lament about toxicology funding. By the time Jack left, he was even more sure he would not be able to finish the case by Thursday.
Using the stairs, Jack climbed up to the sixth floor and entered the DNA lab. Ted Lynch, the director, was in front of one of his many hightech machines along with one of his technicians. The machine's instruction manual was open on the counter. It was apparent the unit was malfunctioning.
"Ah, just the man I want to see, " Ted said when he caught sight of Jack. He straightened up and then stretched his back. Ted was a big man and a former Ivy League football star.
Jack's face brightened. "Does that mean you have some positive results for me? "
"Yup, " Ted said. "One of all those samples you dropped off was positive for anthrax spores."
"No kidding, " Jack said. He was surprised. Despite making the effort to take all the cultures, he'd not expected any positive results.
"Which one of the samples? Can you remember? "
"Absolutely, " Ted said. "It was the one with the tiny blue iridescent star in it."
"My word! " Jack commented. He could remember finding the star in the middle of the blotter on the desk. It seemed so out of place in the spartan surroundings. Jack had figured it was all that remained of some long-past celebration.
"Can you tell me anything else about it? " Jack asked.
"Yup, " Ted said agreeably. "I had Agnes send up a sample of the culture she'd taken from the patient.
We're running a DNA fingerprint now. We'll be able to tell if it's the same strain. I mean, one would assume it was, but it will be nice to have confirmation."
"Indeed, " Jack said. "Anything else? "
"Like what? " Ted questioned peevishly.
He thought Jack would have been more than satisfied with what he'd been told already.
"I don't know, " Jack said. "You're the one with all this hightech wizardry. I don't even know the right questions to ask."
"I'm no mind reader, " Ted said. "I need to know what you want to know." `iwell, how about whether the star was heavily contaminated with spores or only lightly contaminated."
"That's an interesting question, " Ted said. He stared off and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment while he pondered. "I'll have to give that some thought."
"And I'll have to give some thought to how it got contaminated, " Jack said.
"Wasn't this from the victim's office? " Ted asked.
"It was, " Jack said. "The star was on the desk in the office, but the source for the anthrax spores was his warehouse, not the office.
Apparently the spores came in a shipment of goat skins and rugs from Turkey."
"I suppose the spores could have been on his person, " Jack said. "So when he came back to his office and sat down, they dropped off."
"Seems reasonable to me, " Ted said. "Or what about the possibility of his coughing out some of the spores. I understand it was an inhalational case."
"That's an idea, too, " Jack said. "But either way, why the hell were they only on the star? I cultured several spots on the desk, and they were all negative."
"Maybe he coughed out the star, " Ted said with a laugh.
"Now that's a helpful suggestion, " Jack said sarcastically.
"Well, I'll leave the sleuthing to you, " Ted said. "Meanwhile I've got to get back to my sick piece of equipment."
"Yeah, sure, " Jack said absently. He continued to wrestle with the puzzle of the contaminated star as he wandered out of the DNA lab and descended the stairs to the fifth floor. He had the uncomfortable feeling the star was trying to tell him something that he couldn't understand. It was like a message in a code without a key.
Jack leaned into Laurie's office, but she wasn't there. Riva, Laurie's officemate, glanced up from her desk. In her soft, charming Indianemigre-accented voice, she told Jack that Laurie was still in the autopsy room.
Still in a daze about the star, Jack headed for his own office. It occurred to him that the star might have had a slight electrostatic charge, since its sheen suggested it was made of either metallic or plastic material. That might have explained the reason the spores had stuck to it.
He turned into his office and sat at his desk, still obsessed by the mystery of the tiny, cerulean blue star.
With his head cradled in his hands, he tried to think.
"What kind of blue star are you mumbling about? " a voice questioned.
Jack glanced up. He was surprised to see Lou. The detective's expression was as hangdog as it had been when they met at the bar the night before, but he was back to his crumpled, perpetually disheveled look.
Gone were the pressed suit and the polished shoes.
"Was I talking out loud? " Jack questioned.
"No, I'm a mind reader, " Lou said. "Can I come in? "
"Sure, " Jack said. He reached over and pulled one of the straight-back chairs he and Chet shared closer to his desk. He patted the seat with his hand.
Lou sat down heavily. It didn't appear as if he'd shaved that morning.
"If you're looking for Laurie, she's down in the pit, " Jack said.
"I was looking for you, " Lou said.
Jack raised his eyebrows. "I'm flattered. What's up? "
"I've got a confession to make, " Lou said.
"This sounds interesting, " Jack said.
"I felt so bad about it, I couldn't sleep. I was up most of the night."
"Sounds familiar, " Jack offered.
"I don't want you to think badly about me or anything."
"I'll try not to." Jack drummed his fingers impatiently.
"Because this is not something I usually do. I want you to know that."
"For crissake, Lou, confess! How else am I going to give you absolution?"
Lou looked down at his clasped hands and sighed.
"Okay, let me guess, " Jack said. "You masturbated and had unclean thoughts."
"I'm not joking around! " Lou snapped.
"Then tell me so I don't have to guess."
"Okay, " Lou said. "I ran Paul Sutherland's name through the system."
"Is that it? " Jack questioned with exaggerated disappointment. "I was hoping you'd done something significantly more salacious."
"But it's abusing my law enforcement prerogatives."
"Maybe so, but I would have done the same thing, " Jack admitted.
"Honest? "
"Absolutely, " Jack said. "So, what did you find? " Lou leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice. "He's got a sheet."
"Something serious? " Jack asked.
"Not really all that serious, " Lou said. "I suppose it depends on your point of view. The charge was cocaine possession."
"Is that all? "
"It was a sizable amount of cocaine, " Lou said.
"Not enough to suggest he was dealing, but enough for quite a party.
He pleaded
no contest and got probation and community service."
"Are you going to tell Laurie? " Jack asked.
"I don't know, " Lou admitted. "That's what I wanted to ask you."
"Oh, hell, " Jack said. He rubbed his forehead. It was a difficult question.
"I'd be asking myself why I was telling her, " Lou said.
Jack nodded. "I understand what you mean. She might ask the same question and then take out any anger the news generates on the messenger.
"My thoughts exactly, " Lou said. "Yet as a friend, I kinda think she should know. Of course, he may have already told her."
"My intuition tells me he hasn't, " Jack said. "He's too full of himself."
"I feel the same, " Lou said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a figure fill his entire doorway.
It was Ted Lynch from the DNA lab.
"I'm sorry, " Ted said. "I didn't think you'd be busy."
"It's okay, " Jack said. He introduced Ted and Lou, but they said they'd already met.
"I couldn't get your question out of my mind, " Ted said.
"You mean about the degree of contamination of the blue star? "
"Uh huh! And there is a way to do it! " Ted said excitedly. "It's called Taqman technology. It's a new wrinkle on the PCR."
"What's PCR again? " Lou asked.
s got "Polymerase chain reaction, " Jack said. "It's a way of augmenting a tiny piece of DNA so that it can be analyzed."
"Right!
" Lou said, pretending he understood.
"Anyway this technique is fantastic, " Ted said eagerly. "It involves putting a specific enzyme in the PCR
reaction mix. What the enzyme does is gobble up single strands of DNA like that old video game Pacman.
Remember that? " Both Jack and Lou nodded.
"The slick thing is that when it hits an attached probe for whatever it is you're looking for, the enzyme signals. Isn't that sharp? So you can quantify what was in the sample originally by knowing the number of doublings the reaction has gone through, since that's time-related.
" Both Jack and Lou looked blankly at the excited DNA expert.
"So you want me to do it? " Ted asked.
"Yeah, sure, " Jack said. "That would be great."
"I'll get right on it, " Ted said. He disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared.