by Robin Cook
“That’s quite all right,” Jack said agreeably. He stood up. “I’ll let the state’s attorney’s office know how you feel. Meanwhile, thanks for your time, and if you don’t mind, I’ll probably be talking with you in the near future. There’s something very strange about this case, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
Jack smiled to himself, as he undid the locks on his bike. It was so obvious that Dr. Levitz knew more than he was willing to say. How much more, Jack didn’t know, but certainly it added to the intrigue. Jack had an intuitive sense that not only was this the most interesting case he’d had so far in his forensics career, it might be the most interesting case he’d ever have.
Returning to the morgue, he stashed his bike in the usual location, went up to his office to drop off his coat, then went directly to the DNA lab. But Ted wasn’t ready for him.
“I need a couple more hours,” Ted said. “And I’ll call you! You don’t have to come up here.”
Disappointed but undeterred, Jack descended a floor to histology and checked on the progress of his permanent microscopic sections on what was now labeled the Franconi case.
“My god!” Maureen complained. “What do you expect, miracles? I’m rushing your slides through ahead of everybody else, but still you’ll be lucky to get them today.”
Still trying to keep his spirits up and his curiosity at bay, Jack rode the elevator down to the second floor and sought out John DeVries in the lab.
“The assays for cyclosporin A and FK506 are not easy,” John snapped. “Besides, we’re backed up as it is. You can’t expect instant service with the budget I have to work with.”
“Okay!” Jack said agreeably, as he backed out of the lab. He knew that John was an irascible individual, and if aroused, he could be passive aggressive. If that happened, it might be weeks before Jack got the test results.
Descending yet another floor, Jack went into Bart Arnold’s office and implored the man to give him something since he’d struck out every place else.
“I’ve made a lot of calls,” Bart said. “But you know the situation with voice mail. You almost never get anyone on the phone anymore. So, I got a lot of messages out there, waiting for callbacks.”
“Jeez,” Jack complained. “I feel like a teenage girl with a new dress, waiting to get asked to the prom.”
“Sorry,” Bart said. “If it’s any consolation, we did manage to get a blood sample from Franconi’s mother. It’s already up in the DNA lab.”
“Was the mother asked whether her son had a liver transplant?”
“Absolutely,” Bart said. “Mrs. Franconi assured the investigator that she didn’t know anything about a transplant. But she did admit that her son had been much healthier lately.”
“To what did she attribute his sudden health?” Jack asked.
“She says he went away to a spa someplace and came back a new man.”
“Did she happen to say where?” Jack questioned.
“She didn’t know,” Bart said. “At least that’s what she told the investigator, and the investigator told me that she thought she was telling the truth.”
Jack nodded as he got to his feet. “Figures,” he said. “Getting a bona fide tip from the mother would have been much too easy.”
“I’ll keep you informed as soon as I start getting callbacks,” Bart said.
“Thanks,” Jack said.
Feeling frustrated, Jack walked through communications to the ID room. He thought maybe some coffee would cheer him up. He was surprised to find Lieutenant Detective Lou Soldano busily helping himself to a cup.
“Uh-oh,” Lou said. “Caught red-handed.”
Jack eyed the homicide detective. He looked better than he had in days. Not only was the top button of his shirt buttoned, but his tie was cinched up in place. On top of that, he was close shaven and his hair was combed.
“You look almost human today,” Jack said.
“I feel that way,” Lou said. “I got my first decent night’s sleep in days. Where’s Laurie?”
“In the pit, I presume,” Jack said.
“I gotta pat her on the back again for making that association with your floater after watching the video,” Lou said. “All of us down at headquarters think it might lead to a break in this case. Already we’ve gotten a couple of good tips from our informers because it’s stimulated a lot of talk in the streets, especially over in Queens.”
“Laurie and I were surprised to see it in the papers this morning,” Jack commented. “That was a lot faster than we expected. Do you have any idea who was the source?”
“I was,” Lou said innocently. “But I was careful not to give any details other than the fact that the body had been identified. Why, is there a problem?”
“Only that Bingham went mildly ballistic,” Jack said. “And I was hauled in as the culprit.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry,” Lou said. “It didn’t dawn on me it could cause a problem here. I guess I should have run it by you. Well, I owe you.”
“Forget it,” Jack said. “It’s already patched up.” He poured himself some coffee, shoveled in some sugar, and added a dollop of cream.
“At least it had the desired effect on the street,” Lou said. “And we learned something important already. The people who killed him were definitely not the same people who took his body and mauled it.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Jack said.
“No?” Lou questioned. “I thought that was the general consensus around here. At least that’s what Laurie said.”
“She now thinks the people that took the body did it because they didn’t want anyone to know he’d had a liver transplant,” Jack said. “I still favor the idea it was done to conceal the individual’s identity.”
“Really,” Lou said pensively, sipping his coffee. “That doesn’t make any sense to me. You see we’re reasonably sure the body was taken on orders from the Lucia crime family, the direct competitors of the Vaccarros, who we understand had Franconi killed.”
“Good grief!” Jack exclaimed. “Are you sure about that?”
“Reasonably,” Lou said. “The informer who divulged it is usually reliable. Of course, we don’t have any names. That’s the frustrating part.”
“Just the idea that organized crime is involved is appalling,” Jack said. “It means that the Lucia people are somehow involved in organ transplants. If that doesn’t make you lose sleep, nothing will.”
• • •
“Calm down!” Raymond yelled into the phone. The moment he’d been about to leave the apartment, the phone had rung. When he heard it was Dr. Daniel Levitz on the line, he’d taken the call.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Daniel shouted back. “You’ve seen the papers. They have Franconi’s body! And already a medical examiner by the name of Dr. Jack Stapleton has been in my office asking for Franconi’s records.”
“You didn’t give them, did you?” Raymond asked.
“Of course not!” Daniel snapped. “But he condescendingly reminded me that he could subpoena them. I’m telling you, this guy was very direct and very aggressive, and he vowed to get to the bottom of the case. He suspects Franconi had a transplant. He asked me directly.”
“Do your records have any information at all about his transplant or our program?” Raymond asked.
“No, I followed your suggestions in that regard to the letter,” Daniel said. “But it’s going to look very strange if anybody looks at my records. After all, I’d been documenting Franconi’s deteriorating status for years. Then all of a sudden, his liver function studies are normal without any explanation, nothing! Not even a comment. I’m telling you there’ll be questions, and I don’t know whether I can handle them. I’m very upset. I wish I’d never gotten involved in all this.”
“Now let’s not get carried away,” Raymond said with a calmness that he himself did not feel. “There’s no way Stapleton could get to the bottom of the case. Our concern about an autopsy was purely hypothetical a
nd based on an infinitesimally small chance someone with the IQ of Einstein could figure out the source of the transplant. It’s not going to happen. But I appreciate your calling me about Dr. Stapleton’s visit. As it turns out, I’m on my way this very minute to have a meeting with Vinnie Dominick. With his resources, I’m sure he’ll be able to take care of everything. After all, to a large measure, he’s responsible for the present situation.”
As soon as he could, Raymond got off the phone. Appeasing Dr. Daniel Levitz wasn’t doing anything for his own anxiety. After advising Darlene what to say in the unlikely chance Taylor Cabot called back, he left the apartment. Catching a taxi at the corner of Madison and Sixty-fourth, he instructed the cabbie how to get to Corona Avenue in Elmhurst.
The scene at the Neopolitan Restaurant was exactly the same as it had been the day before, with the addition of the stale smell of a couple of hundred more cigarettes. Vinnie Dominick was sitting in the same booth and his minions were lounging on the same bar stools. The obese bearded man was again busily washing glassware.
Raymond lost no time. After coming through the heavy red velvet drape at the door, he made a beeline for Vinnie’s booth and slid in without invitation. He pushed forward the crumpled newspaper, which he’d painstakingly smoothed out, across the table.
Vinnie gazed down at the headlines nonchalantly.
“As you can see, there’s a problem,” Raymond said. “You promised me the body was gone. Obviously, you screwed up.”
Vinnie picked up his cigarette, took a long drag, then blew the smoke at the ceiling.
“Doc,” Vinnie said. “You never fail but to amaze me. You either have a lot of nerve or you’re crazy. I don’t tolerate this kind of disrespect even from my trusted lieutenants. Either you reword what you just said to me or get up and get yourself lost before I get really pissed.”
Raymond swallowed hard while he got a finger between his neck and his shirt and adjusted his collar. Remembering to whom he was speaking gave him a chill. A mere nod from Vinnie Dominick could find him bobbing around in the East River.
“I’m sorry,” Raymond said meekly. “I’m not myself. I’m very upset. After I saw the headlines, I got a call from the CEO of GenSys, threatening the whole program. I also got a call from Franconi’s doctor, who told me he’d been approached by one of the medical examiners. An ME named Jack Stapleton dropped by his office wanting to see Franconi’s records.”
“Angelo!” Vinnie called out. “Come over here!”
Angelo ambled over to the booth. Vinnie asked him if he knew a Dr. Jack Stapleton at the morgue. Angelo shook his head.
“I’ve never seen him,” Angelo said. “But Vinnie Amendola mentioned him when he called this morning. He said Stapleton was all fired up about Franconi because Franconi is his case.”
“You see, I’ve gotten a few calls myself,” Vinnie said. “Not only did I get a call from Vinnie Amendola who’s still sweating it because we leaned on him to help us get Franconi out of the morgue. I also got another call from my wife’s brother who runs the funeral home that took the body out. Seems that Dr. Laurie Montgomery paid a visit and was asking about a body that doesn’t exist.”
“I’m sorry that this has all gone so badly,” Raymond said.
“You and me both,” Vinnie said. “To tell you the truth, I can’t understand how they got the body back. We went to some effort knowing the ground was too hard to bury it out in Westchester. So we took it way the hell out off Coney Island and dumped it into the ocean.”
“Obviously, something went wrong,” Raymond said. “With all due respect, what can be done at this point?”
“As far as the body is concerned, we can’t do anything. Vinnie Amendola told Angelo that the autopsy was already done. So that’s that.”
Raymond moaned and cradled his head. His headache had intensified.
“Just a second, Doc,” Vinnie said. “I want to reassure you about something. Since I knew the reason why an autopsy might cause problems for your program, I had Angelo and Carlo destroy Franconi’s liver.”
Raymond raised his head. A ray of hope had appeared on the horizon. “How did you do that?” he asked.
“With a shotgun,” Vinnie said. “They blasted the hell out of the liver. They totally destroyed this whole portion of the abdomen.” Vinnie made a circling motion with his hand over his right upper quadrant. “Right, Angelo?”
Angelo nodded. “The entire magazine of a pump action Remington. The guy’s gut looked like hamburger.”
“So I don’t think you have as much to worry about as you think,” Vinnie said to Raymond.
“If Franconi’s liver was totally destroyed, why is Jack Stapleton asking whether Franconi had a transplant?” Raymond asked.
“Is he?” Vinnie asked.
“He asked Dr. Levitz directly,” Raymond said.
Vinnie shrugged. “He must have gotten a clue some other way. At any rate, the problem now seems to be focused on these two characters: Dr. Jack Stapleton and Dr. Laurie Montgomery.”
Raymond raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“As I already told you, Doc,” Vinnie continued. “If it weren’t for Vinnie Junior and his bum kidneys, I wouldn’t have gotten involved in all this. The fact that I’ve since gotten my wife’s brother into this situation compounds my problem. Now that I got him involved I can’t leave him dangling, you see what I’m saying? So, here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll have Angelo and Franco pay a visit to these two doctors and take care of things. Would you mind that, Angelo?”
Raymond looked hopefully at Angelo, and for the first time since Raymond had seen Angelo, Angelo smiled. It wasn’t much of a smile because all the scar tissue precluded most facial movement, but it was a smile nonetheless.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting Laurie Montgomery for five years,” Angelo said.
“I suspected as much,” Vinnie said. “Can you get their addresses from Vinnie Amendola?”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to give us Dr. Stapleton’s,” Angelo said. “He wants this messy situation cleared up as much as anybody. As far as Laurie Montgomery is concerned, I already know her address.”
Vinnie stubbed out his cigarette and raised his own eyebrows. “So, Doc, what do you think of the idea of Angelo and Franco visiting the two pesky medical examiners and convincing them to see things our way? They have to be convinced that they are causing us considerable inconvenience, if you know what I mean.” A wry smile appeared on his face, and he winked.
Raymond let out a little laugh of relief. “I can’t think of a better solution.” He worked his way along the curved, velvet banquette seat and stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Dominick. I’m much obliged, and apologize again for my thoughtless outburst when I first arrived.”
“Hold on, Doc,” Vinnie said. “We haven’t discussed compensation yet.”
“I thought this would be covered under the rubric of our prior agreement,” Raymond said, trying to sound businesslike without offending Vinnie. “After all, Franconi’s body was not supposed to reappear.”
“That’s not the way I see it,” Vinnie said. “This is an extra. Since you’ve already bargained away the tuition issue, I’m afraid we’re now talking about recouping some of my initiation fee. What about twenty thousand? That sounds like a nice round figure.”
Raymond was outraged, but he managed to stifle a response. He also remembered what happened the last time he tried to bargain with Vinnie Dominick: the cost doubled.
“It might take me a little time to get that kind of money together,” Raymond said.
“That’s fine, Doc,” Vinnie said. “Just as long as we have an agreement. From my end, I’ll get Angelo and Franco right on it.”
“Wonderful,” Raymond managed to say before leaving.
“Are you serious about this?” Angelo asked Vinnie.
“I’m afraid so,” Vinnie said. “I guess it wasn’t such a smart idea to get my brother-in-law involved in all this, although at the time we
didn’t have much choice. One way or the other, I got to clean it up, otherwise my wife will have my balls. The only good part is that I was able to get the good doc to pay for what I’d have to do anyway.”
“When do you want us to take care of those two?” Angelo asked.
“The sooner the better,” Vinnie said. “In fact, you’d better do it tonight!”
CHAPTER 15
March 6, 1997
7:30 P.M.
Cogo, Equatorial Guinea
“At what time did you expect your guests?” Esmeralda asked Kevin. Her body and head were wrapped in a handsome bright orange-and-green fabric.
“Seven o’clock,” Kevin said, happy for the distraction. He’d been sitting at his desk, trying to fool himself into believing he was reading one of his molecular biology journals. In reality, he was tortured by repeatedly running through the harrowing events of that afternoon.
He could still see the soldiers in their red berets and jungle camouflage fatigues seemingly coming out of nowhere. He could hear their boots pounding against the moist earth and the jangle of their equipment as they ran. Worse yet, he could feel the same sickening terror that he’d felt when he’d turned to flee, expecting at any instant to hear the sound of machine-gun fire.
The dash across the clearing to the car and the wild ride had been somehow anticlimactic to that initial fright. The windows being shot out had an almost surreal quality that somehow couldn’t compare to his first glimpse of those soldiers.
Melanie had once again responded to the event completely differently than Kevin. It made Kevin wonder if growing up in Manhattan had somehow toughened her for such experiences. Rather than expressing fear, Melanie was more angry than afraid. She was furious at the soldiers’ wanton destruction of what she considered her property, even though the car technically belonged to GenSys.
“The dinner is prepared,” Esmeralda said. “I shall keep it warm.”