Body Harvest

by Malcolm Rose

  Walking beside Troy, Lexi said, ‘If there was a god, he’d have put a stop to stuff like this.’

  ‘It doesn’t work like that,’ Troy retorted. ‘Majors and outers have free will.’

  ‘Huh.’

  They stopped and looked down into the first freshly dug hollow. This time, it was a woman. The corpse was too dirty and rotten to reveal much.

  Kofi shook his head. ‘Don’t ask. I’ve got to get this one back to the lab before I can tell you anything. No obvious wounds, though.’

  ‘What about …?’ Troy waved his arm towards the second hole.

  ‘A male in an advanced state of decay, missing his right hand.’

  Troy walked to the hollow, glanced down and shuddered. From head to stomach, the man was soiled but apparently whole. Below his waist, he was incredibly thin, as if the bottom part of his body had rotted much quicker than the top. Troy looked away.

  ‘The body’s very fragile,’ the pathologist said. ‘I’m still figuring out how to take it away in one piece.’

  ‘Cause of death?’ Lexi asked.

  ‘To be decided, but his throat’s been slit.’

  Troy flinched but kept his distaste to himself. Lexi did not react.

  ‘Come and see me in the morning,’ Kofi said. ‘I’ll have a good picture by then.’

  Signalling to the crime scene supervisor, Lexi asked, ‘Have you found a weapon?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘That fits – if the killing was done somewhere else,’ Troy said.

  The supervisor told them, ‘We’ve bagged a lot of stuff, but I’m not sure we’ve got anything worthwhile.’

  ‘Tyre impressions or footprints?’

  ‘Possible faint trolley or cart tracks. It’s hard to say. But maybe that’s how the bodies got here. At least three sets of shoeprints so far. One probably belongs to the woman who found the first body.’

  Lexi nodded. ‘Keep looking.’

  SCENE 4

  Tuesday 8th April, Morning

  The bright white pathology laboratory was not Troy’s favourite place. Laid out on plinths, human bodies were objects for undignified exploration. To Troy, pathologists resembled customs officers who opened up suspicious suitcases and delved inside, putting aside clothes and possessions to uncover hidden evidence. They went to great lengths to discover the causes of death, apparently able to detach themselves from a person whose internal organs they lifted out, whose brain they accessed with a saw.

  Kofi was tall and lean with a shaved head and large blue trainers. His feet had to be enormous. He towered over the three bodies that he’d labelled L4G#1, L4G#2 and L4G#3. L4G stood for Lexi Four/Goodhart. He would not understand Troy’s distress that, in the absence of real names, the victims had been given heartless codes.

  ‘You’ll recognize L4G#1,’ Kofi said. ‘A male outer, about thirty years of age. No ID of any sort.’

  Lexi nodded. The result of the DNA test that she’d requested yesterday had come in. The victim was definitely an outer, but his profile was not in the DNA database so his identity remained a mystery.

  Kofi glanced at Lexi and said, ‘With all this hair he’s got, I’m not surprised you missed a blow to the back of the head with a heavy, blunt object.’

  Lexi asked, ‘Was it lethal?’

  ‘No. It would just have knocked him out.’

  ‘So, what killed him?’ said Troy

  ‘Prepare yourselves.’

  ‘What?’ Troy prompted.

  ‘He has no heart, liver or kidneys.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Cause of death: removal of heart, liver and kidneys. That’s why he’s lying here. It’s hard to regain consciousness without a heart.’

  ‘That’s …’ Troy was lost for words.

  ‘Unusual?’ Kofi suggested. ‘And rather intriguing.’

  Finding his voice again, Troy asked, ‘Was it done … professionally? Can you tell?’

  ‘It wasn’t someone hacking away in a frenzied attack. It was done with a very sharp knife or a scalpel – and with care. But, no, it wasn’t up to operating theatre standard. And no one bothered to sew up the wounds afterwards.’

  Lexi seemed to be suppressing anger. ‘What’s your estimate for when he died?’

  ‘He’s cold and rigor mortis has come and gone.’ He lifted the left arm by the wrist and the hand flopped. ‘Totally flaccid. That tells me he died more than thirty-six hours ago. The entomologist says there were no beetles, mites, ants or wasps, so he’s fairly fresh. Two or three days. You’ll be able to pin it down yourself, won’t you?’

  Lexi nodded again. ‘I’m collecting temperature evidence right now. As long as the weather doesn’t change … Hey presto.’

  Knowing that Kofi will have examined the man’s stomach contents during the post-mortem, she asked, ‘What was his last meal?’

  ‘Bug burger and chips. Mostly locusts.’

  Troy turned up his nose.

  ‘Huh. You eat cow, don’t you?’ Lexi snapped at him.

  ‘Beef, yes,’ Troy replied.

  ‘Well, insects and arachnids are twelve times more efficient than cows at turning plants into edible protein. And they taste better.’

  Kofi smiled at their bickering. ‘Do either of you want to hear about your second corpse? She’s fascinating as well. Maybe more so.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Kofi turned towards the plump body that had a tag dangling from the left big toe. It labelled her as L4G#2. ‘She’s a major but an overnight DNA test tells me she’s got an outer heart.’

  ‘What?’ Troy exclaimed. ‘How’s that possible?’

  Major and outer body parts looked much the same but their chemistry was different. They were completely incompatible.

  ‘Surgery. A bizarre – and very cruel – experiment or a transplant that went wrong because of an organ mix-up.’

  Troy and Lexi exchanged a glance. Last night, when Troy had researched all of the buildings near the clearing, he’d found a reference to the Rural Retreat Transplant Clinic, situated at the far end of the reservoir.

  Lexi asked, ‘How long would she survive with the wrong heart?’

  ‘A few hours at most. Her immune system would have rejected it pretty quickly.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it’s the first body’s heart, is it?’ Troy asked.

  ‘No. You can’t link them like that, I’m afraid. She died maybe a week before him.’ Kofi hesitated and then said, ‘Of course, despite appearances, it means you’ve really got four victims. The only thing we’ve got of L4G#4 is a heart. The DNA doesn’t match any database, so all we know is that he or she’s an outer.’

  ‘Here’s something easier. Have you identified her – L4G#2?’ Lexi asked.

  ‘No,’ Kofi answered. ‘But it’s interesting that there’s an illegal trade in body parts. Do you know? There’s a lot of money to be made, trading organs like hearts and lungs. The displaced and bodies stolen from mortuaries are prime sources. Look at L4G#1. Unshaven and unkempt, missing some valuable organs. There’s a possible connection. Which brings me nicely to L4G#3. He’s not one of the displaced, but he’s your most extreme victim.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s a major and he’s missing a heart, lungs, eyes, liver and kidneys. On top of that …’ Theatrically, he waved an arm over the lower part of the body. From the withered stomach, L4G#3 was nearly flat. ‘Almost all the bones below his waist have been harvested. That’s why he’s two-dimensional down there.’

  ‘You mean,’ Troy struggled to say, ‘someone’s taken his bones out? Why …?’

  ‘Bones are useful for making dental implants. He’s been fairly thoroughly ransacked for anything useful. Note the missing right hand. And there’s no skin on his back. I imagine that went to a burns victim.’

  ‘But all this … surgery would have been done after he died, wouldn’t it?’ Troy said. ‘I hope so.’

  Kofi nodded. ‘The police were wrong about the caus
e of death.’

  Troy was puzzled. ‘The police know about him?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve identified him …’

  Troy interrupted. ‘Let’s drop the code, then. Show him some respect and use his name.’

  Taken aback by Troy’s vehemence, Kofi replied, ‘Er … Sure. He’s Dmitri Backhouse – thirty-eight years old – and he went missing six weeks ago, presumed suicide …’

  ‘Suicide?’ Lexi exclaimed.

  ‘According to his medical notes, he’d tried twice before and failed. He’d visited lots of suicide chat rooms. The police assumed he’d succeeded on the third attempt.’

  ‘But …’

  With a grin, Kofi said, ‘I know. He’s the first suicide I’ve come across who’s slit his own throat – that’s how he died – and afterwards removed various body parts before burying himself.’

  ‘So,’ Troy replied, ‘we’re talking assisted suicide or something more …’

  ‘Murderous?’ Lexi offered.

  ‘Assisted suicide’s murder. No, I meant, a more ordinary killing.’

  ‘I’ll upload everything for you,’ Kofi told them. ‘You know, I envy you two, in a way.’

  ‘How come?’ Lexi asked.

  ‘It’s a remarkable case. You’re lucky to get it.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Lexi muttered.

  On the way out, Troy asked Kofi, ‘Have you ever had any bodies stolen from here? I’m thinking about stuff being bought and sold for transplants. Have you got first-hand experience?’

  The pathologist shook his head. ‘I know about it, but I’m not part of it.’

  SCENE 5

  Tuesday 8th April, Midday

  As the driverless car approached the area where Dmitri Backhouse and the other two victims had been abandoned, Troy glanced across at Lexi. ‘Are you asleep?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ she said, slowly opening her eyes. ‘I’m meditating. At least, I was.’

  Troy knew perfectly well that outers did not sleep. Instead, they switched off for short regular periods. Teasing her, he said, ‘Meditating? That’s just a fancy word for thinking, isn’t it?’

  ‘No. It’s the opposite of thinking – and much deeper. It’s a sort of mental drifting. A way of de-stressing. It stops impulsive reactions to emotional events – like crime. Afterwards, thoughts are much clearer. Much sharper.’ She looked at Troy and added, ‘You know what everyone does when their computer goes wrong?’

  ‘Turn it off and back on again?’

  ‘That’s what outers do up here.’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘When our brains get cluttered, we turn them off and turn them back on again fifteen minutes later. Hey presto. Works every time – unless we’re interrupted.’

  ‘Well, we’re arriving. You’d have to snap out of it anyway.’

  They left the car and walked first to the home of the witness who’d reported seeing the body they now called L4G#1. Her small rustic cottage lay near to the water treatment office, but out of its sight.

  The woman who answered the knocker was in her fifties and she appeared to be in good health. Surprised that she should have visitors, she looked at the two young detectives and muttered, ‘Yes?’

  Troy introduced himself and his partner. ‘We just wanted to ask you a few questions about your recent … find in the wood.’

  Reluctantly, she stood to one side. Sighing, she said, ‘Come in.’

  The living room was at the rear of the property and there were no trees to obscure the view over Langhorn Reservoir. Curiously old-fashioned, there was a large black wood-burner in one corner and a bulky television in another. Some ancient music was playing on an out-dated music system that Troy and Lexi hardly recognized. Modern technology had passed by Avril Smallcross.

  She turned off the music and ushered them towards a sofa. ‘Sit,’ she said, almost as if talking to a pet dog.

  Lexi remained on her feet but Troy perched on the edge of the leather couch. ‘Do you live here on your own?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It must be lonely.’

  ‘The young and the old want different things out of life. Maybe you like the buzz of a city. I prefer peace and quiet.’

  ‘Do you work?’

  ‘Retired.’

  Troy nodded. ‘You were out collecting wood.’

  ‘I walk a lot,’ Avril told him. ‘Keeps me fit. It’s a waste not to pick up wood for the stove while I’m at it.’

  ‘Have you ever seen people digging in the clearing?’

  She frowned. ‘Not that I recall.’

  Lexi said, ‘Did you go up close to the body?’

  ‘No. But close enough, thank you. What happened to the poor man?’

  Troy didn’t want to go into details. ‘We’re still looking into it,’ he replied. ‘Did you recognize him? Have you seen him round here before?’

  ‘I didn’t exactly study him, but …’ Avril shook her head.

  ‘Have you ever worked in health or got involved in medical operations?’

  ‘No. What a strange question. Why?’

  ‘We were wondering if you’ve had anything to do with transplants.’

  ‘Oh, I see. You’re thinking of the clinic down the road. No. Never been there. Is it relevant?’

  Troy shrugged. ‘Probably not.’ In truth, the Rural Retreat Transplant Clinic was his main priority for the day.

  ‘You wouldn’t know by looking at me now,’ she said, ‘but I used to be a lifeboat pilot.’

  ‘Exciting,’ Lexi replied. ‘I always fancied being a pilot. Of anything fast. Anyway, have you got the shoes you were wearing when you found the body?’

  ‘Er … That’d be my walking boots. Yes.’

  ‘I need to take a photo of the tread.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There were shoeprints in the clearing. I need to eliminate yours,’ Lexi explained. ‘The rest might belong to whoever dumped the body.’

  ‘I see. Wait. I’ll get them.’

  By the time they left Avril’s cottage, Lexi had several images of the soles of Avril’s walking boots on her life-logger and Troy had his thoughts about the woman who had stumbled across the primitive burial ground.

  Together, Troy and Lexi retraced Avril’s route to the crime scene. There, Lexi retrieved her data logger, complete with its precious information on temperature. Encircled by police ribbon, the clearing was still guarded by officers and the search team was nearing the end of its hunt for a weapon and other clues.

  The two detectives had decided to make for the transplant clinic on foot because a long waterside stroll would give them a better picture of the area.

  While they walked, Troy said, ‘You looked … annoyed in the mortuary.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Like someone or something was niggling you.’

  ‘Yes, well, I don’t like the idea of someone defiling bodies by removing this and that.’

  ‘You’re not squeamish or religious.’

  ‘You don’t have to be to know it’s wrong. It’s like slashing a great work of art.’ She paused before adding, ‘To me, our insides are just as beautiful as our outsides.’

  Troy grimaced. ‘You get to see enough of them in this job.’

  Sarcastically, Lexi replied, ‘I’m lucky like that.’

  The rough path was almost straight, keeping parallel to the reservoir. At the water’s edge, there were a few wooden platforms for fishing but they were all rickety and vacant. The trees were mostly firs. Under a high green roof, the wood was bare and dark, even sinister. Tapering as it approached the end of the reservoir, it was also eerily quiet.

  ‘Transplants are different for outers, aren’t they?’ Troy said.

  ‘We don’t go in for different blood groups like you majors, if that’s what you mean. For us, it’s one type fits all. No need to match the donor and recipient. Any outer heart, liver or whatever will be okay for any other outer. Convenient.’

  Abruptly, she halted.

  Troy looked back at
her and whispered, ‘What is it?’

  ‘There’s someone over there,’ Lexi said, pointing away from the water’s edge.

  She was right. Troy could just make out a small log cabin, topped with a roof of bundled twigs. Outside it, a man was sitting at a crooked table, examining a piece of wood.

  Lexi and Troy looked at each other. ‘Well?’ Lexi said. ‘Are we walkers who just happened to come this way or are we detectives? Official or unofficial?’

  Troy knew it was his call. Lexi took care of the forensic side of the investigation. His strength was in dealing with people and questioning. He felt forced to make a quick decision because he knew Lexi did not like to be held back. ‘Er … Official but friendly. And curious.’

  Lexi nodded.

  Together they left the track and ambled towards the man and his shack. He wasn’t old. Perhaps nearing thirty. He was rough rather than dirty. He had long black hair but no beard. ‘Hi,’ Troy called out, noting the woodworking tools scattered around the table. A large axe and a fishing rod were propped against the side of the cabin.

  The man smiled, showing startlingly white teeth. ‘Nice morning.’

  ‘I’m Troy. This is Lexi. For some reason, the powers-that-be made us detectives.’

  ‘Thought so,’ he said, putting down the piece of wood. ‘I’m not doing anything against the law.’

  ‘No problem. Do you live here?’

  ‘Yep,’ he answered, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Wearing shorts and a T-shirt, he didn’t seem to feel the chill breeze.

  ‘You’re one of the displaced.’

  ‘Never did like that label but …’ He shrugged.

  ‘Was it your choice?’ Troy asked.

  ‘They called me a maths genius, but I opted out. Yes, my choice. It’s a good life.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Huw.’

  Troy didn’t push for a surname. He wanted to keep it informal. ‘Not exactly state-of-the-art living.’

  Huw laughed. ‘Everyone owns too much stuff. You don’t need it. I’ve got shelter, a bed, clothes, wood to keep me warm in winter, plenty of food …’

  Troy interrupted. ‘Where from?’

  ‘I grow it, catch it or just pick it up. Fish, squirrels, road-kill, vegetables. Lots. A hole in the ground’s my toilet. For water, I filter rain through sand. Easy.’