The Body Thief

by Chris Taylor

  “Samantha? Do you have a moment?”

  She tensed and then reluctantly turned back toward him. “Is there something else?”

  “I’ll catch up with you later, Sam,” Hannah called out on her way toward the exit.

  Samantha looked like she wanted to scurry off with her friend, but Rohan closed the connecting door. She stared at him and once again he caught the flicker of anger in her eyes. Determined to find out the reason for her animosity, he got straight to the point.

  “It’s quite clear you’re angry with me, but for the life of me, I can’t work out why. I’ve scoured my memory and I’ve come up blank. How about you tell me why you look at me like you want to stab me in the eye?”

  If anything, the anger in her eyes burned hotter. He even took a step back and then cursed under his breath. He had nothing to feel guilty about.

  “I can’t believe you’re standing there, pretending it never happened!” she hissed.

  Rohan frowned in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Her cheeks flushed and her breath came faster. She looked like she might explode. Once again, he searched through his memory for something that warranted her extreme reaction and came up empty.

  “You know what I’m talking about!” she said, her tone full of contempt.

  He drew in a deep breath and did his best to hold his patience in check. “No, Samantha, I don’t. Now, are we going to stand here like this until nightfall, or are you just going to tell me what you’re so riled up about?”

  Her stare turned lethal. “I’m talking about Daphne! Remember her? Your college girlfriend? The one you promised to love forever?”

  He stared back at her, still confused. What the hell did Daphne have to do with any of this? Until Samantha appeared at the station, he hadn’t thought about his ex-girlfriend in years. If he were honest, he could barely remember what she looked like. They’d dated for a year-and-a-half before he ended it. What was so maddening about that? It wasn’t like he’d broken Daphne’s heart. In fact, he’d been the one brokenhearted.

  But, instead, he said, “Of course I remember Daphne. What does she have to do with anything? We’ve been over for more than decade.”

  “Oh, you’re unbelievable! It’s so easy for you to wipe your hands of it, isn’t it? You ought to be ashamed!”

  “Of what? For Christ’s sake, get to the point. I don’t have a clue what you’re getting at!”

  “Of abandoning your responsibilities, that’s what!”

  He shook his head and anger started to rear its head. Never in his life had he been accused of shirking his responsibilities. It irritated him to hear Samantha accuse him of such now. Suddenly impatient, he got up in her face. Her head only came up to his shoulder, but she continued to stare at him defiantly, refusing to be intimidated.

  “Cut the crap, Samantha. Spit it out. Tell me what the hell you think I’ve done and why you’re so furious!”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m furious all right,” she replied, pushing him in the chest.

  He tensed and snatched at her hands, holding them away from him. “Talk. Now.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m talking about your son! The baby you made with Daphne and then callously abandoned because the pregnancy didn’t fit in with your plans. You promised to love her forever and that’s how you treated her! Like I said, you ought to bow your head in shame and beg forgiveness from the mother of your child.”

  Rohan reeled back in shock and let go of Samantha’s hands. He could barely hear over the roar of blood in his ears. Of course, he’d known about the baby. It was the reason he’d ended it. Daphne obviously hadn’t told her roommate that the baby wasn’t his.

  He stared at the angry flush that stained Samantha’s cheeks and was stunned she could think so badly of him. After all the nights they’d double dated and sat around the girls’ apartment sharing pizza and drinking beer… He couldn’t believe she hadn’t defended him. Or bothered to wonder whether the man she’d considered a friend really could behave in such an appalling manner.

  Hurt and disappointment surged through him and his chest went tight. He turned away from her, unwilling to let her see how much her assessment of his character mattered. He’d always liked her and had found her fun to be around, even though at the time, he’d only had eyes for Daphne. To discover that Samantha, a person he respected and liked, could believe he was capable of such selfish, irresponsible behavior rocked him to the core.

  With an effort, he unclenched his fists and steeled his heart. His pride refused to allow him to explain. If that’s how little she knew and thought of him, then who was he to argue? Turning back to face her, he unlocked the connecting door in silence.

  “It’s obvious you’re convinced you have the story right. I think it’s best that you leave.” It was all he could manage.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sam made her way home in the early evening traffic and thought about her meeting with Rohan. She’d known he was a police officer, of course. He’d made detective not long after he started dating Daphne. At that time, he’d been stationed at Cronulla, a southern suburb of Sydney and a long way from the station in the city. She hadn’t imagined she’d run into him when she accompanied Hannah.

  The years had been kind to him and the knowledge irritated her. Somehow, it would have made her feel better if she’d discovered his hair had disappeared off his head and the athletic body he’d sported a decade earlier had given way to fat. A near-sighted squint would also have gone a long way to soothing her annoyance. But it wasn’t to be. He looked as good, if not better, than he had ten years ago.

  Although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he also appeared competent in his job. His questions had been insightful and he’d been genuinely determined to get to the bottom of their complaint. She almost wished they’d met with a buffoon who couldn’t care less about what they had to say. The knowledge that Rohan would investigate the matter until he was satisfied with the answers meant she now had to deal with the growing sense of unease that weighed her down.

  Her phone rang in the car kit to the tune of a Bruno Mars song, distracting her from her thoughts. She glanced across at the screen. Alistair. All of sudden, the dread in her stomach grew wings and took flight. Swallowing, she moistened her dry lips and answered.

  “Hi, Alistair, how are you?”

  “What’s the matter? You sound weird.”

  Sam groaned under her breath. Trust her brother to notice. She forced a smile and did her best to lighten her tone. “It must be the noise of the traffic. I have you on hands-free. I’m on my way home.”

  “I just thought I’d call and see how you were now that you’re a week older.”

  “I’m fine, Alistair. Just getting on with life: work, sleep, sitting with Mom, more work. You know how it is.”

  “Unfortunately, I do. Nancy and the kids complain they barely see me these days.”

  “So does Mom.”

  “Hey, I was with her in the Dialysis Unit two days last week when Ava and Jessie couldn’t make it.”

  “And what about this week? It doesn’t just stop, you know.”

  “Of course. I’ll do what I can. Who kept her company today?”

  “Ava did. She moved around a few appointments. Got the time cleared.”

  “Ava’s such a good daughter,” Alistair replied, sounding genuine. “You all are.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sam replied with a wry chuckle though her mirth was forced.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She bit her lip against a sudden rush of tears. No, she wasn’t all right. Her mother was dying and she was facing the possibility her brother might be involved in something so awful she couldn’t even think about it—and yet, she might be completely and utterly wrong. The worry and doubt and confusion and uncertainty was doing her head in.

  A car cut into her lane in front of her and she cursed aloud and blasted the driver with her horn.

  “What happened
?” Alistair asked.

  “Just another stupid Sydney driver impatient to get home. Doesn’t he realize we’ve all had a long day and we’re all desperate to get home? Talk about selfish. The idiot could have caused an accident!”

  “How do you know it’s a male?” Alistair teased.

  “You’re not helping, Alistair,” she replied through gritted teeth.

  “I take it you had a rough day?” His voice was full of sympathy. Another rush of tears pricked Sam behind her eyes. She blinked hard to hold them at bay.

  “Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “It was tough.”

  “Was it a kid? Doing an autopsy on a kid would have to be the worst.”

  “No, it wasn’t a kid and it’s not work that has worn me out.”

  “Then, what?”

  Sam bit her lip and debated silently over what to say. She wanted so much to tell him about her fears—about what her and Hannah had found—and she wanted to tell him about going to the police and how an officer she’d met ten years earlier, might be giving him a call.

  And then, all of a sudden, she wanted to hear what he had to say. If he had nothing to do with it, surely he’d be just as curious and concerned about the findings as she was.

  “I accompanied Hannah Langdon to the police station this afternoon,” she blurted out. “We wanted to talk to someone about our uneasiness over the recent high influx of bodies that had donated organs.” Her announcement was met with shocked silence.

  Finally, Alistair spoke. “Wow! I… I’m speechless. When you mentioned it last week, I didn’t realize the numbers were so high that you’d go to the police.”

  “Well, they are and Hannah felt the same way. I had dinner with her on the weekend. She’s also noticed a significant increase. She had a deceased come through her funeral home recently that had not only donated organs, but ligaments and tendons and even tracts of skin removed. Don’t you think that sounds strange?”

  She held her breath and waited for her brother to answer. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel.

  “Absolutely! You’re right, it sounds very weird. I pride myself on being good at my job and I can’t remember the last time I convinced a relative to give consent for all of those things. I wish I was that persuasive. For sure we need those kinds of tissues as much as any of them, but it’s rare for people to agree. I wonder who the doctor was who managed to secure the consent?”

  Sam’s breath rushed out of her body in relief. Her brother sounded just as bemused with the whole thing as she was. If he’d had any prior knowledge or, heaven forbid, intimate knowledge, surely he’d be on the defensive?

  “I don’t know any details, other than the body came from your hospital,” she hastened to tell him. “Hannah only receives the most basic information about her clients.”

  “Of course. Do you have a name? I could look them up in our records and see who dealt with them.”

  “No, but Hannah does. I could call her and ask.”

  “Don’t bother her tonight. Besides, I’ve already called it a day. I’m at home, kicking back with a scotch, watching the rugby game I taped earlier.”

  “Lucky you,” she teased. “I have another three miles to go.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to concentrate on the road. I don’t want you arriving home in pieces. Or worse still, not arriving at all.” His tone was light, but Sam appreciated the concern behind his words. She was lucky to have a big brother like him watching out for her. Not everyone was so fortunate. With a promise to take care and talk again soon, Sam ended the call.

  There, she’d done it and Alistair had reacted exactly as she’d expect. Curious, concerned, wanting to investigate further and get to the bottom of it. There was no way he was involved. She was sure of it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dear Diary,

  I woke up last night from a nightmare. I was trapped in a bottomless pool of blood. It was all over me—sticky, warm and wet. I wiped myself clean over and over, but by the time I’d finished I was covered in blood again.

  It hung from my hair, it dripped in my eyes; it filled my mouth and ears. I was drowning in blood. At any moment, I could disappear, swallowed up by the metallic tasting fluid, never to be seen again…

  * * *

  “All done, Doctor Wolfe?”

  Alistair was focused on the patient who lay on the operating table. The only thing keeping the woman alive was the respirator that sent artificial, measured breaths into her lungs. Soon, even that would be gone. Registering the nurse’s question, he looked up and nodded. “Just about, thank you, nurse. Feel free to leave. It’s way past late. I’ll finish up here.”

  “Are you sure?” the nurse asked, unable to keep the hopeful note out of her voice.

  “Yes, of course. The excitement’s over. All I have to do is suture her up and unplug the machine. Then I’m done. I don’t need you for that. I’ll talk to the family and make sure she’s sent to the morgue afterwards.”

  The nurse nodded and smiled gratefully. She’d been on her feet for hours. Alistair was sure she wouldn’t argue with him about leaving the operating theater a little sooner than the end of her shift. He was counting on it.

  “Thank you, Doctor Wolfe. I’m rostered on again first thing in the morning, so I really appreciate being able to get away a little early. I’ll barely have time to put my head down on the pillow before I have to be on shift again.”

  Alistair tossed her a sympathetic smile. “Yes, those back-to-back shifts are a bitch. I hope you don’t live too far away?”

  “No, about twenty minutes from the hospital. Long enough, though, when I’m following a late shift with an early.”

  “Go, and don’t think anything more of it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She flashed him another grateful smile and then turned and headed toward the exit. Alistair waited a few minutes, to make sure she’d left the suite. When he heard the outer door open and close, he returned his attention to the patient.

  The woman’s heart, liver and kidneys had been harvested in accordance with the consent Alistair had obtained from her next of kin. The transplant teams had been in attendance and once the organs were harvested and placed inside insulated containers, the teams evaporated with their precious cargo, to be couriered under police escort to the various hospitals around Sydney where the transplants would then take place.

  It was an exciting, tense, nervous time where every minute counted. Somewhere in the city, even now, patients were being prepped for surgery. They would have received the call they’d been waiting for—a donor organ had become available, giving them another chance at life. He couldn’t help but send a little prayer heavenwards that one day soon his mother might be so lucky.

  The entire organ donation process filled Alistair with indescribable hope. It was almost like playing God. And now, if it meant he made a little extra money on the side, who could argue with that? It was an excellent outcome for all concerned, but right now, the woman on the table had so much more to offer and Alistair was just the man to take advantage of it. Working quickly, he removed the lungs, intestines and pancreas.

  Next, he pinned the woman’s eyelids open and removed both corneas and the sclera. A lot of people didn’t pay any heed to what they considered such insignificant tissues but for Alistair, the thought that he might be responsible for helping a blind person see was far too important to overlook. Besides, Biologistics paid good money for eye tissue.

  He thought of the terms of his contract with the US corporation and frowned. He was only in the second month of his arrangement and already, he risked breaching its terms. August was all but over and with temperatures rising, he was way below his quota.

  He’d overlooked the fact that, as the weather got warmer, the number of deaths decreased. As spring set in, fewer people burned down their homes with faulty heaters or crashed their cars driving over icy roads. Of course, there was always the possibility of a heatwave in summer, cutting short a few extra lives, but even
if that happened, it wouldn’t be until January. There was no way he could wait that long.

  While the CEO of Biologistics had been amenable up until now, Charles Shillingworth had made it clear that the company took its contracts seriously. There were plenty of doctors around the world who were clamoring to be part of their team. If Alistair failed to measure up to his promise, he’d quickly be replaced.

  The thought of losing a second, substantial stream of income put him into a slight panic. He’d used half of the first payment bailing out Richard. His act of goodwill had bought him unlimited access to the deputy coroner and Alistair didn’t ever have to worry about risking refusal of an authorization from that quarter, but it also meant he’d seen less than he’d like of the promised windfall. If he could meet the terms of his contract long enough to secure his long-term financial future, he’d be more than pleased.

  The problem was finding and harvesting the amount of tissue to fill his quota when fewer and fewer patients were dying. It had become almost impossible to achieve. Even recovering additional tissue that wasn’t included in the consent hadn’t fully closed the gap.

  Alistair continued to justify his actions by relying on the fact that the patient or their relative had agreed to donate at least some of their organs. He was sure they wouldn’t object to him taking all that was of use. What was the difference between donating a heart or lungs or liver and the other things? After all, what was the deceased going to do with them? If there was one thing Alistair couldn’t stand, it was waste.

  Every day, people were dying around the world from diseases or damage that could be repaired if there was enough donated tissue to go around. It didn’t make sense to him to cremate healthy, useable organs or put them in the ground. Skin from deceased persons could totally transform the lives of victims suffering from severe burns and protect them from life-threatening bacterial infections and it had done wonders for breast reconstructive surgery. As far as he was concerned, there were only positive gains to be had from increasing the supply of human tissue.