The Charity Chip

by Brock Booher

  “I told you,” said Angelica, finally finding her voice. She covered her mouth again.

  “But do we know if that’s what killed her?” asked Julio.

  “According to the toxicology report, yes,” answered Doctor Barilla.

  “Toxicology report?” asked Julio.

  Doctor Barilla flipped a page and read, “Death of the patient is attributed to high levels of ketaset and flunitrazepam. I ran the tests myself.”

  Angelica dropped her hand and looked around the room. “Graciela’s here?”

  “Her remains are here, yes.”

  Angelica leaned forward. “Did you see the body?”

  Doctor Barilla removed his reading glasses and chewed on one of the stems. “Yes. Would you like to see her as well?”

  Angelica gave Julio a wide-eyed look. Her face grew paler. She covered her mouth again and stared at the floor.

  Julio reached out patted her on the back. “Angelica has been trying to convince me that Caritas is up to some evil scheme. She thought they were faking the deaths of street children and then selling them into slavery. If you actually saw Graciela’s body, then that proves her theory wrong.”

  Doctor Barilla shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I can assure you that Graciela is in fact dead. Most of her organs were harvested and shipped to various medical facilities, according to procedure, and her remains are scheduled for cremation this afternoon. I’m truly sorry.”

  Julio frowned. “Is that normal?”

  “If the deceased has no next of kin, the remains are cremated. Standard procedure.”

  “I mean is it normal for them to take the organs?”

  “It is since the concept of presumed consent became international law a few years ago.”

  “Presumed consent?” asked Angelica.

  “It means that when someone dies, the law presumes that the deceased consents to having their organs harvested, unless they specifically deny it.” He shrugged. “Organ donation saves thousand of lives each year.”

  “At least her death counted for something then,” said Julio. “She would be happy to know that.” He looked over at Angelica. “Don’t you think so, Angelica?”

  Angelica’s face was pale and her mouth was open. Her eyes were the size of saucers. “That’s it,” she half whispered. “Of course. That’s it!” She scooted forward to the edge of her chair. “Doctor Barilla, who got Graciela’s organs?”

  Doctor Barilla slipped on his reading glasses and thumbed through the pages of Graciela’s file. “The donor recipients themselves are confidential, of course.” He ran his finger down the page. “But according to this all of her organs were processed through a French company—Marques Médical.”

  Angelica threw herself back into her chair and shook her hands at the ceiling. “Of course. How did we not see this before?” She reached over and grabbed Julio’s arm. “Don’t you get it? Mysterious deaths. French company. United Nations approval. Physical exams.” Her eyes were practically bulging out of her head. “They aren’t selling us into slavery. They want us for our organs!”

  Julio rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you just accept the fact that Caritas really does want to help?” He shook his head. “First human trafficking and now this. Next you’ll be telling me that they are aliens here to take over the planet.”

  Angelica jumped out of her chair. “How do you not see this?” she shouted. “How can you be so naïve? Tell me, Doctor, how much does a kidney bring on the black market?”

  Doctor Barilla folded his fingers and considered the question. “I’m not really sure. For the past several years I have only been allowed to treat people with nowhere else to go”—he nodded at the corpse on the adjacent table—“not too unlike the ones here. But it is my understanding that with the laws of presumed consent, the black market has been shrinking somewhat.”

  “Shrinking, but it still exists, right?” asked Angelica.

  “I have read that many Europeans have chosen to opt out. That might create a demand. One would assume that as long as there is a demand, a supply will somehow appear.”

  Angelica stepped closer to Julio and put a hand on his shoulder. “We are that supply.” She pointed to the space between her left thumb and forefinger. “The charity chip is their way of monitoring and controlling their inventory.”

  “If that’s true,” said Julio, “then why don’t they just kidnap forgotten kids on the street and harvest them? Why would they go to all the trouble of feeding us and teaching us if they are just going to harvest us for our organs? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Sure it does,” said Angelica. “We’re just like cattle. They fatten us up and keep us healthy so they can harvest us when the time is right.” She turned to Doctor Barilla. “Doctor, did the drug overdose ruin any of Graciela’s organs?”

  Doctor Barilla thumbed through Graciela’s folder. “No, it appears that very little was wasted.”

  Angelica nodded. “They did that on purpose. They don’t want to damage their product before getting it to market.”

  Julio still wasn’t convinced. “What were the pills again?”

  “Flunitrazepam,” answered Doctor Barilla.

  “And the syringe?”

  “Ketaset.”

  “They could have injected her with ketaset when they picked her up at her house,” continued Julio. “But how did the fluni . . . other drug get into her system? If she took some of the pills, would they still be in her stomach?”

  Doctor Barilla shook his head. “They dissolve pretty quickly.” He looked down at the folder. “And unfortunately they harvested her stomach as well, so we have not way of knowing.”

  “The drug is in the charity chip,” interjected Angelica. “They released it remotely.”

  Julio stared at Doctor Barilla. He was afraid to ask the next question, but he knew it had to be done. “Is the chip still in Graciela’s hand?”

  “Hmmm . . . I’m not sure,” answered Doctor Barilla. He stood and walked toward the wall of cabinets. “Shall we take a look?”

  Julio wished he hadn’t asked the question. The thought of looking at Graciela’s dismembered body brought a wave of nausea. He started to stand, but his legs were so weak, he collapsed back into his chair. He noticed that Angelica leaned against the desk with both hands and looked away.

  Doctor Barilla pulled open one of the stainless steel cabinets. Julio could see a shape in a white cover. The doctor unzipped the cover and drew out a pale arm and examined the left hand. He held up the hand for them to see. The skin between the thumb and forefinger had been sliced. “If she had the chip in her left hand like each of you, then it was removed.”

  “What about the right hand?” asked Angelica. “Does she have a silver ring on her finger?”

  Doctor Barilla held up a small manila envelope and shook it. “She did have on a silver ring. Do you want it? She has no next of kin to claim it.” Angelica shook her head and stared at the floor.

  Julio swallowed the bile in his throat and looked away as Doctor Barilla tucked the arm back into the cover and closed the stainless steel cabinet.

  “We need to take this information to the police,” insisted Angelica, interrupting his thoughts. “We need a copy of Graciela’s folder to prove that she was killed and harvested for her organs.”

  Doctor Barilla sat down at his desk and handed her Graciela’s folder. “Be my guest, but you won’t find anything to make your case. As far as the evidence is concerned, a young girl on the street died of an overdose, and her organs were harvested to save the lives of others.” He shrugged. “If there really was foul play, you have no proof.”

  Angelica took the pale green folder. “Where can I make copies of everything in this folder?”

  Doctor Barilla clicked at the keys of his laptop. “You can have that copy. I am printing another copy as we speak. Everything is entered digitally these days. Nobody knows how to use pen and paper anymore.”

  Julio looked up at Angel
ica and asked, “Why do you want the folder if there isn’t any evidence of foul play?”

  “Maybe the evidence of foul play isn’t obvious. Maybe if we take this folder and tell our story to the police, they will see something we don’t.” Angelica shrugged. “It’s better than doing nothing.”

  Julio shook his head. “Unless there isn’t any foul play.”

  Angelica ignored the comment, tucked the folder under her arm, and stood to leave. “Thank you for helping us, Doctor Barilla.”

  Doctor Barilla motioned for her to sit. “Sit down for a moment.” Angelica complied. He slipped off his glasses and looked at the both of them. “I must warn you, if the accusations you make are true, the people involved are powerful and masters of perception and deceit. Think about it. They have just murdered and harvested a young woman’s organs under everyone’s noses without even raising suspicion, except from you of course.” He shook his head. “Without proof—hard evidence—nobody will listen to you. The moment you obtain proof, you will become their target.” He pointed at the stainless steel cabinets. “Be careful, or you might find yourself a visitor in my office.”

  “You can help us,” said Angelica. “The police would believe a doctor.”

  Doctor Barilla held up his hands and shook his head. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. They would never listen to me. Besides I just got this job and I don’t want to jeopardize it.”

  Angelica glanced at Julio. “Well, thanks for your help and advice.” She hurried out the door without waiting for Julio.

  Julio stood to follow Angelica. “Thanks. I guess I’d better see where she’s headed with that folder.”

  Doctor Barilla winked at Julio. “She’s a rather animated young woman, lots of energy. She’ll keep you on your toes, but be careful that her zeal doesn’t get you into hot water. If she’s right, you’re in more danger than you realize. If she’s wrong, her impetuousness may cost you your membership in Caritas.”

  Julio nodded and shook the doctor’s cold hand before hurrying into the hallway with his skateboard tucked under his arm. He searched for her as he made his way down the hallway and back through the busy lobby. Finally, he saw Angelica sitting beside the empty fountain in front of the hospital reading Graciela’s folder in the afternoon sun.

  “Anything interesting?” he asked.

  Angelica sighed. “Not really. It’s just like he said. Everything appears to be normal. But then again, I don’t really know what to look for.”

  Julio sat down beside her. “Let me take a look.” She handed him the folder and stared at the ground. Julio began thumbing through the pages and reading out loud. “Time of death, cause of death, postmortem report, toxicology report, organ placement log . . . You’re right. Everything appears to be normal, but then again I only know a little bit more than you do.” He closed the folder and handed it back to Angelica.

  They sat in silence, letting the afternoon sun drive away the chill from the morgue. After a few minutes, Julio put an arm around her and she put her head on his shoulder. “Graciela was my friend too,” he whispered. “Life is full of things we don’t understand like abandoned children, gang violence, and drug overdoses. Life isn’t fair, but God is merciful. That’s what Mamá used to say.” Julio sighed. “Sometimes I don’t know if I agree with her.”

  “I agree that life is full of things we don’t understand,” answered Angelica without removing her head from Julio’s shoulder. “I’m just trying to figure out how the drugs got into her system.” She sat up and looked Julio in the eye. “I mean, I assume that they injected her when they got to the house, but how did they get the drug that caused her to pass out into her system?”

  “Maybe we have to accept that she really did overdose,” said Julio.

  “Do you accept that?”

  Julio looked up at the sun shrouded by the high thin layer of clouds. He didn’t accept that Graciela overdosed, in spite of the evidence. He wasn’t sure why. He looked into her eyes. “No, I guess I don’t.”

  “Neither do I. So how did they get the first drug into her system?”

  Julio rubbed the charity chip in his left hand. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is in the chip, but how could we prove that?”

  Angelica stood and started pacing. “You say you have helped Doctor Barilla. Do you think you could remove someone’s chip for us to examine?”

  “I guess I could, but as soon as we remove it, Isak will know. Besides, what do we look for when we get it out? Have you thought about using an X-ray?”

  Angelica shook her head. “Martín said that it might damage the chip and probably wouldn’t show us much because the chip is so small.”

  “Then we need Caritas to release the specs on the chip to the authorities.” Julio stood and put one foot on his skateboard.

  “They could lie and release bogus information. Maybe we should help Martín hack into the computers at Caritas first. He can get the information, and then we can go to the authorities.”

  “And what do we tell them when they ask us how we got the information?”

  “At that point, how we obtained the information won’t matter.” Angelica chewed at her bottom lip. “I say we at least try to talk with the police first. We tell them what we suspect. We tell them what we saw. We show them Graciela’s folder. If they won’t help us, then we hack into the computers at Caritas.”

  “After what happened to Papá, I don’t trust the police.” Julio slipped on his backpack and motioned for Angelica to join him on his skateboard. “But if you think we should, I guess it’s worth a try.” She smiled and shook her head like she couldn’t believe what they were about to do, but after stuffing Graciela’s folder into Julio’s backpack, she climbed onto the board.

  * * *

  The two gate guards armed with black machine guns eyed Julio and Angelica when they hopped off the skateboard in front of the concrete wall topped with concertina wire that enclosed the police station. Another two guards looked down on them from gun positions on top of the wall. When Julio saw the gun positions, he almost changed his mind. He pulled his Saint Michael pendant from under his shirt and kissed it before scooping up his skateboard and tucking it under his arm.

  The guard at the doorway stood with his rifle slung over his back and stared at them without saying a word or cracking a smile as they approached. Julio gathered his courage and spoke. “We need to speak to someone about a suspicious death.”

  Without a word, the guard pulled out a scanner and scanned Julio and Angelica. Apparently satisfied with the results, the tacit guard opened the large metal door and let Julio and Angelica pass. Julio hoped to breathe a sigh of relief as they passed through the door, but instead his stomach did another somersault when the door clanged shut behind them.

  They found themselves in a cramped lobby with low ceilings in front of a body scanner. Another uniformed officer sat next to the body scanner reading a magazine with a woman on the cover. “Remove any hats, jackets, belt buckles, or shoes, and place them on the belt before passing through the scanner,” commanded the officer without putting down his magazine.

  Angelica slipped off her jacket and shoes, placed them on the conveyor belt that ran through an X-ray machine, and stood with her hands above her head for the body scanner. The scanner whirred and then beeped. She looked back at Julio and rolled her eyes.

  The sedentary officer set down his magazine and stroked his thick black mustache as he walked around the scanner toward Angelica. “Do you have anything in your pockets? Any piercings?” asked the officer. Angelica pursed her lips and shook her head. “Very well. Raise your hands above your head and spread your feet apart.”

  Angelica grimaced as she assumed the position, but she maintained composure. The officer strolled behind her and ran his hands down her bare left arm to her shoulder. He repeated the process for the other arm. He lifted her hair and ran his fingers across the back of her neck. She flinched as both of the officer’s hands slid from her shoulders and acr
oss her chest. She bit her bottom lip as his hands followed the shape of her hips and checked her legs.

  Julio was red with rage as he watched, but Angelica shook her head signaling for him to do nothing. When the officer had finished, Julio passed through the scanner without incident.

  The officer returned to his seat and picked the magazine back up. “Pass through the double doors and talk to the desk sergeant,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” whispered Julio as they gathered their belongings.

  Angelica shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  The desk sergeant’s desk was elevated above the room and gave him a commanding view of incoming traffic. Behind his raised desk, uniformed officers sat at metal desks, shuffling papers and talking on the phone. A constant stream of uniforms with their quarry moved in and out of the several hallways that led into the bowels of the building.

  “Buenas tardes,” said the desk sergeant without looking up from his computer screen.

  Julio stood as tall as he could and tried to project himself. “We would like to talk to someone about a suspicious death.”

  The officer glanced up but continued to type at his keyboard. “Your chips don’t show up in our system. We need to take a hand scan.” He motioned to the scanner in front of his desk.

  Julio placed his right hand palm down on the scanner, and the green light flashed. The desk sergeant read from the screen, “Julio César Camino de Pachacutec.” He glanced down at Angelica. “Your turn, señorita.”

  Angelica shifted in place. “Is this really necessary? We aren’t criminals. We are coming to report a crime.”

  The sergeant looked down his nose at Angelica. “This is standard procedure for everyone who enters the station, no matter what the reason. If you don’t have a chip registered in our system, we make a hand scan. You scan your right hand and continue,” he said, shrugging, “or you exit through that door. It’s up to you.” He went back to his typing.