by Chris Taylor
THE BODY THIEF
Book Two of the Sydney Harbour Hospital Series
Chris Taylor
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
Copyright 2015 by LCT Productions Pty Ltd
(All Rights Reserved)
LCT Productions Pty Ltd
18364 Kamilaroi Highway, Narrabri NSW 2390
ISBN. 978-1-925119-25-1 (Ebook)
ISBN. 978-1-925119-26-8 (Paperback)
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The Body Thief is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Copyright Notice
Dedication
The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Note to Readers
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my mother Sophia Guihot and as always, to my beautiful husband, Linden.
The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series
(in order)
THE PERFECT HUSBAND
(Book One)
THE BODY THIEF
(Book Two)
THE BABY SNATCHERS
(Book Three)
THE FINAL BULLET
(Book Four)
THE DEBT COLLECTOR
(Book Five)
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Find out more about all of Chris Taylor’s books, including the hugely popular Munro Family series by visiting her website at: http://www.christaylorauthor.com.au/about/books
PROLOGUE
Mid-September
Dear Diary,
He lies prostrate on the operating table, his skin still warm and pink. Even the intricate tattoo on his shoulder with the letters P and M interwoven around a cherub looks plump and firm. The respirator is doing its job.
His chest has been cut open to reveal the treasure trove within. I am more than certain he’s had a heart attack, so that organ must remain intact, but everything else can go.
His family said he wasn’t a donor, were adamant he didn’t want to be one, but I can’t listen. Surely, such a man would approve this final gesture. I cannot bear to see his healthy organs go to waste. So many people will benefit from his kind and generous gift. And he’s dead, really. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have changed his mind at the last minute and been generous, if he’d lived?
I block my mind to what I know were his wishes and once again pick up my scalpel. Quickly and efficiently, I do what I do best. With each slice, I’m saving lives and furthering the cause, one lucky person at a time. It’s a shame I am forced to work in secrecy and that my work is outside the laws here. How I would love for people to know who I am and what I do for so many others—and not the least among them, my family…
CHAPTER ONE
Doctor Samantha Wolfe bent over the corpse that lay stretched out on the steel gurney before her. The work station was one of twenty that lined the main autopsy room of the Department of Forensic Medicine, situated in Glebe, an inner city suburb of Sydney. It was the biggest and busiest mortuary in Australia and carried out the post mortems resulting from all major disasters. Most locals referred to the drab concrete-and-steel building simply as the Glebe Morgue.
Adjusting her safety glasses and mask, Samantha picked up the Stryker saw and cut through the woman’s ribs. The saw squealed in protest, but did its usual efficient job. When she finished, she set the saw aside and with gloved hands, prised open the chest cavity.
“What do you have there, Sam?” Phillip Bond asked from where he stood beside the gurney adjacent to hers. His tone was conversational as he made preparations to begin the post mortem on the body of a black male that lay on the table in front of him.
Sam looked up and grimaced. “The paperwork says a suspected heart attack. She’s only forty-eight. She’s overweight, but not to the point of obesity. Even if it is a heart attack, I’ll be doing some toxicology work just to rule out foul play. Thankfully most of us aren’t that young when the heart decides to go.”
Phillip chuckled and made a Y incision on his corpse. “I suppose we can be grateful for that. Every day brings us closer to the time when we’ll reach the end. Let’s hope we die peacefully of some immediately discernible cause.” He shuddered. “I sure as hell don’t want to end up here.”
She threw him a teasing smile. “Oh, Phillip! We love this place! And I would take such good care of you! I’d make sure my scalpel cut straight and true and my stitches were neat and precise. You wouldn’t find a better seamstress. Nobody would be any the wiser that I’d had my hands deep inside your belly.”
Phillip grimaced and shook his head and then gave her a sideways look. “You’re in a good mood today. Any particular reason?”
Samantha thought about not telling him, but then changed her mind. What did it matter if he knew? She was truly thankful for every day she spent on the earth. “It’s my birthday,” she revealed.
Phillip laughed. “Happy birthday! Dare I ask which one? Or maybe I should just guess… Oh, my God!” he exclaimed with mock surprise and horror. “Don’t tell me this is the big 4-0!”
She laughed, amused at his antics. “Very funny! I bet you wish it was your big 4-0. I seem to recall the last birthday you celebrated started with a five and ended in a three.” She used her scalpel to cut through the tissue holding the woman’s lungs in place and then added, “I turned thirty-four today, if you must know.”
Phillip whistled. “Thirty-four! Who’d have guessed? You look ten years younger! It must be the lack of sunlight we get, hidden away in here. It has to be good for the complexion, don’t you think? I read somewhere that too much sun can age a person.”
Samantha lifted the lungs out of the chest cavity and dropped them into a steel tray. The heart soon followed. She shot Phillip a wry smile. “I’m glad to hear that spending twelve hours a day, in the cold and dark we call the office, has some advantages.”
“Of course! And best of all, you get to work with me!” His face reflected the innocence that filled his voice, but his eyes twinkled in merriment. He might be nearly two decades older, but she considered Phillip Bond a friend.
They’d known each other for years, from back when she’d worked at the Westmead Morgue. When she decided to move closer to the city and had requested a transfer to Glebe, Phillip was only too happy to transfer with her. They had a mutual respect and genuine affection for each other that went beyond that of mere work colleagues. For her, he was more like a father figure and right from her earliest days as a forens
ic pathologist, he’d taken her under his wing.
“So, how are you celebrating this momentous birthday? With some very expensive champagne, I hope?”
Phillip’s questions broke into her thoughts and she glanced across at him. “I’m having lunch with my brother and I’ll probably catch up with my sisters after work. That’s about it.”
“What? Alistair’s not even taking you to dinner? What kind of brother is he?”
She laughed. “A very busy one with a lot of responsibilities right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah! So you say! Nobody forced him to take on the role of the Sydney Harbour Hospital’s poster boy. Just because he’s head of the Organ Donation for Transplantation Unit doesn’t mean he shouldn’t make time to take his baby sister out to dinner on her birthday.”
“It’s not that simple,” Sam replied. “Ever since the recent joint initiative between the State Government and the Sydney Harbour Hospital to increase the public’s awareness of organ and tissue donation, he’s been run off his feet. Have you noticed the increase in post mortems on organ donors coming through here lately?”
“Yeah, I have.” He nodded toward the body on the table. “This guy’s donated his heart, lungs, liver, pancreas and both kidneys. That’s a whole heap of organs. I had two similar cases last week and three the week before. That has to be some kind of record.”
She nodded. “Until recently, one a week was normal. Now, it seems every other day I do a PM on a body that’s missing some of its parts.”
Phillip reached for his Stryker saw and went to work on the man’s skull. “And those are only the bodies that come through here. Imagine how many must be hitting the funeral homes. I have to hand it to your brother, he’s sure had an impact on donor numbers. He might be worth those big bucks, after all.” Phillip shot her a wink and Sam rolled her eyes.
“It isn’t just him,” she replied, “although, I admit, he could charm just about anyone. The Sydney Harbour Hospital’s now running the campaign right through winter. As the star of the show, Alistair told me he even had to attend a full-on photo shoot with models and makeup and everything. The hospital’s putting up billboards around the city, encouraging people to become donors. My brother will be recognized wherever he goes.”
“Lucky him. With that kind of exposure, he might even become a celebrity. Maybe you could go to one of those swanky restaurants down near the water without a reservation and demand to be seated.”
Sam laughed and joined in the fun. “Yes, and then we could order the most extravagant thing on the menu and have the restaurant cover the bill. They’ll be falling all over themselves to have such a megastar in their presence. It would be like something out of Hollywood.” She grinned again. “I like it.”
The door to the main autopsy room opened and she looked up in time to see the deputy coroner fill the doorway. Sam sent him a brief wave of acknowledgement and returned to the job at hand. With the remaining organs now in the steel tray, she began to weigh them. An examination of the woman’s heart confirmed the preliminary diagnosis. A large blood clot blocked the aorta. Several smaller clots had formed in the surrounding blood vessels. Sadly, it had been inevitable that this woman’s life would come to an abrupt end. Sam would conduct routine toxicology just to be thorough, even though it looked like lifestyle and hereditary factors were the leading contributors to the woman’s untimely demise.
Sam’s boss drew nearer and she greeted him with a smile. “Hi, Richard. What’s up?”
Deputy Coroner, Richard Davis, looked from her to Phillip and back again. “What are you two so happy about?” he grumbled. “It’s Monday morning and we have a backload of bodies. I don’t see anything jovial about that.”
Samantha smiled again because Richard’s bark was always worse than his bite. It was the same every Monday.
“It’s Sam’s birthday,” Phillip piped up and then proceeded to peel back the face of the man on the table.
Richard Davis turned to face her, his expression one of surprise. “Happy birthday, Samantha. I should have known.”
“Don’t be silly,” she protested. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember.”
“I have access to every staff record in the building. I have no excuse if I forget,” he replied with a smile. “Do you have any plans?”
“Ah, there we have it! A massive bleed!” Phillip announced, bending over the brain of his cadaver. “That was easy!”
Sam smiled and shook her head and then answered Richard’s question. “I’m having lunch with my brother.”
“Her superstar brother,” Phillip added with a cheeky wink.
“I’m glad to see he’s spending some of that hard-earned cash,” Richard replied. “With his new position at the hospital, he must be raking it in.”
Sam grinned. “Jealous?”
Richard shook his head. “Not at all. He deserves every cent. He has to work with the living and the dead. At least my job is limited to those no longer with us, and thankfully, complaints are rare. His job requires a whole lot more finesse. Having to deal with grieving relatives and convince them to donate body parts of their loved ones…” He shuddered. “Way beyond my skill set, I’m afraid. I admire him.”
“So do I,” Sam agreed, “and he’s having a real impact. The sudden increase in the number of bodies coming here with donated organs is impressive.”
Richard looked uncomfortable for a second and then his gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”
Samantha indicated the body Phillip was working on. “Phillip’s guy donated most of his organs. It’s fortunate none of the ones removed were involved in the cause of his death, because they’re not here and it would have been impossible to determine the way he died. I wonder who in this office authorized it?”
Tugging off her gloves, she reached across for the man’s file and scanned the pages until she found what she was looking for. “Ah, here it is. The call from the Sydney Harbour Hospital Intensive Care Unit came in on Saturday night from my brother and…” She continued to scan the hospital notes and then looked up at her boss. “You were the one who gave consent.”
Richard nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I remember now. I was on call over the weekend. I discussed the patient with Alistair. He was of the opinion the man had died of an aneurysm on the brain. His family was adamant he’d wanted to donate his organs. Apparently, one of his children had died at a young age from a heart defect. The child could have been saved had she received a donor heart in time.” He shrugged. “The story touched me. I couldn’t see any harm in harvesting what was more than likely not involved in his cause of death. His family was beyond supportive. No need letting healthy organs go to waste, right?”
“You won’t get an argument from me,” Samantha replied. “My mother’s been waiting for a transplant for years. I’m all for harvesting whatever can be used.”
Phillip made a sound of disapproval. Sam turned to face him. “I take it you’re not in agreement?”
“No way! I guess it’s all right for people who don’t know what goes on in a place like this, but for me…” He shuddered. “Besides, I’m a Catholic and I want to head off to the afterlife intact, the same way I came into it. Is that too much to ask? Lucky for me, my wife, Maree, feels the same way.”
Sam stared at him, a little taken aback. She’d known him for years and had never suspected he felt that way. The fact that he was Catholic was hardly an excuse. The Vatican’s official position was in favor of organ donation. Sam couldn’t help but think of her mother. Every day without a new kidney brought her that much closer to death. Sam couldn’t fathom why anyone would choose not to be an organ donor.
“Think of the number of people you could help,” she replied, trying hard to maintain a calm and objective manner. “You could save a person’s life, bring sight to the blind—achieve any number of worthy outcomes. Why wouldn’t you want to be part of that?”
Phillip shrugged, but his expression told her he remained adamant. “I guess, but
why does it have to be me? There are millions and millions of people in the world. If even a quarter of them donated organs and tissue on their death, we wouldn’t have a problem. There’d be more than enough body parts to go around and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”
“But there aren’t enough people donating! That’s the problem,” Sam said, tugging on a fresh pair of latex gloves and resuming the autopsy. “Governments and hospitals do what they can, but there’s no guarantee it will make a difference. Look at you! You’re living in a city that’s recently been inundated with advertising, countless media events about the positive side to organ donation, and more—and you’re still unconvinced organ donation’s a good thing.”
“You’re right,” Phillip said. “Maybe if I got paid for it ahead of time, I’d reconsider. You can’t underestimate the appeal of the dollar. It would be nice to pay off my mortgage.”
Sam gasped in outrage. “Phillip Bond! I don’t believe you just—”
Too late, she caught the twinkle in his hazel eyes. “Dammit, Phillip! That’s not fair,” she responded without heat. “You should have warned me you were joking before I got all hot and bothered. You’re lucky my hands are covered in blood and body matter or I might just reach over there and grab you around the throat.”
He laughed. “You’d have to catch me, first. Besides, who’d laugh at your lame jokes if I wasn’t around?”
Snorting at their nonsense, Richard shook his head. “You two deserve each other. I’ll leave you to it.” He turned away, heading in the direction of the exit. “Happy birthday, Sam, and have a good day!” he called out as he disappeared through the doorway.