The Body Thief Page 3

  “Tell me about it,” Alistair said. “Between Brendan and Lexie, I pay more than one-hundred-and-twenty grand a year and that doesn’t take into account all the incidentals like uniforms, excursions, pocket money, sporting engagements and the rest. By the time they finish their education, I could have bought a small apartment in Bondi.”

  Sam shook her head and chuckled. “Is it worth it, then? The private school education? You and I attended a public school. So did Jessie and Ava. It didn’t do us any harm. Look at you, the Sydney Harbour Hospital’s most celebrated surgeon. I’m a doctor, too. Jessie’s on the way to making partner at her law firm and Ava’s psychiatry practice is going ahead in leaps and bounds. I’d say the public education system didn’t do us any harm.”

  “You’re right,” Alistair said thoughtfully. “I guess it’s seeing Mom struggle so hard to provide for us, and despite all her efforts, she was never able to give us all that… The fact is, I can. And I want to make her proud. I guess I also like the prestige that comes with sending your kids to a top-rated private school. It’s a heady feeling when you realize you’re in a position to give your kids the best.”

  “I suppose so. Anyway, it’s your money. Do what you like with it. If giving your kids a private school education makes everyone happy, it’s money well spent.”

  He looked at her quizzically, a tender smile hovering around his lips. “When did you get to be so wise?”

  Sam was prevented from answering when May-Ling and one of her helpers arrived with steaming trays of food. As Sam filled her plate, her stomach reminded her it had been hours since breakfast when she’d chewed on a piece of toast spread with Vegemite.

  “Mm, it smells delicious,” she said and then took her first fragrant bite. The spring roll was everything it promised to be and she quickly finished it and reached for another. Alistair watched her with amusement.

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  The fact that he still worried about little things like that warmed her through. It had been years since she’d left home and yet, he still looked out for her. She couldn’t have asked for a better brother and that was the truth.

  More food arrived. They continued to eat in silence and Sam finished her glass of wine. She longed to order another, but she hadn’t been lying when she’d told Alistair she needed to return to work. There were three more autopsies waiting in the fridge and then there was the paperwork. Regretfully, one glass was her limit.

  “Don’t give up on him, will you?” Alistair said quietly, setting his fork aside.

  Sam stopped eating mid-bite, a little confused. “Who?”

  “Your Mr Right. You’ll find the perfect someone. He’s out there. I’m sure of it.”

  She blinked back a sudden rush of tears and marveled again about the caring and sensitivity of her brother. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion.

  Alistair stared at her a moment longer and then glanced at his watch. Wiping his mouth with the napkin, he pushed away from the table. “I’m going to have to go, Sammie. Duty calls.”

  She opened her mouth to protest his early departure and then closed it again. He wouldn’t leave without good reason. He was crazy busy. She was grateful for the time he’d given her. She’d seen more of him over their short lunch date than she had in the past month. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

  “You need to get out more, little sis. You’re looking way too pale. Too much time spent working in the cold and dark with all those dead bodies. You could always switch your specialty and come over to the lighter side. Our patients talk and respond to jokes and sometimes even thank us and we actually get to see the sun for more than a snippet of time. I could look into a vacancy for you, if you’re interested. There would always be room at the hospital for someone with your skills.”

  She was shaking her head back and forth, even before he finished. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m more than content where I am. The dead need help, too. I like to listen to their stories, help their families find peace. Someone has to care enough to do it. Besides, haven’t you heard? Too much sun isn’t good for the complexion. I’m thirty-four. I don’t need to hasten the ageing process.” She grinned and was relieved when he grinned back. “Call Mom soon, okay?” she added gently. “She worries when she doesn’t hear from you regularly.”

  “I saw her on the weekend, remember?”

  “Yes, but none of us know how much longer she’ll be here. You’re her first born child and only son. She needs to hear from you more often,” she repeated.

  He leaned over and gave her another peck on the cheek. “Okay. Just for you. Because today’s your birthday and I love you and I love our mom. Is that good enough?”

  She nodded, unable to speak over the lump that had lodged itself in her throat.

  “I really have to go, Sammie. Nancy and I are attending a black-tie function at the Hilton tonight. Another joint effort between the government and the hospital. I’m expected to meet and greet and smile for the cameras and all the while do my best to increase awareness about organ donations. So, though I might not call Mom as often as I should, I’m doing my bit. You’re not the only one who wants to see her well.”

  “Of course not. You care about her as much as any of us. We all know that.”

  “When is she due in again for treatment?”

  “Jessie sat with her this morning. She’ll be back in the Dialysis Unit again from nine the day after tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “Good. I’ll do my best to drop in and see her.”

  She smiled her gratitude. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll fix up the bill on my way out. Happy birthday, Sammie. I’ll talk to you soon.” And with that, he was gone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The sound of Detective Sergeant Rohan Coleridge’s siren was as deafening as the pounding of his heart. Another rush of adrenaline surged through him at the thought of what lay ahead. A call had come over the radio about a two-car pile-up that also involved a fuel tanker. He didn’t want to imagine what might happen if the tanker was leaking and they didn’t get there in time.

  He glanced across at his partner. Detective Bryce Sutcliffe looked equally grim. The scratchy reports they’d obtained from dispatch had filled them both with dread. At least one car had passengers trapped in their vehicle. Emergency response teams from all over the city were, right now, accelerating toward the accident. As luck would have it, Rohan and Bryce had been interviewing a witness to an unrelated matter only a few blocks away. Closest to the site of the accident, they now expected to be the first responders on the scene.

  Another wave of adrenaline flooded Rohan’s veins. Mentally, he began to think about what might need to be done. A leaking fuel tanker was a time bomb. The first thing was to ensure the safety of any passengers who were still alive and pray to God it wasn’t too late.

  “There it is!” Bryce called out, tension in his voice.

  With a squeal of tires, Rohan swung the squad car onto the sidewalk and braked hard. Shoving it into Park, he leaped from the vehicle with Bryce on his heels.

  “You take the white Toyota. I’ll check the Nissan,” Rohan shouted and took off at a run.

  Racing toward one of the sedans, Rohan was relieved to see the tanker driver had made it out of his truck and was now stumbling across the grassy verge that adjoined the pavement. With his heart in his throat, Rohan skidded to a halt beside the passenger door of the Nissan.

  Peering through the window, he made out the shape of two people in the front of the car. The sound of a baby screaming reached his ears. He wrenched open the front door and came up short. The front of the Nissan had folded in on the occupants. Steel and plastic lay twisted and broken, leaving the inside front compartment of the vehicle almost unrecognizable.

  “Hey, can you hear me?” he shouted to the adults in the front of the car. Both the driver and passenger were covered in blood. Neither of them responded. Rohan checked the passenger for a pulse and found non
e. Reaching across the mess of metal wreckage, he searched the driver for signs of life. Again, nothing.

  Pulling back, he stood upright and the sharp smell of gasoline scorched his nostrils. His heartbeat kicked into overdrive. Any minute the tanker could blow. He looked across at Bryce and saw that he was dragging someone out of the Toyota.

  “How many?” he shouted, his panic increasing with every passing second.

  “Only the driver. He’s pretty badly hurt, but I’ve managed to pull him free. How about you?”

  Rohan shook his head at the same time he tried to wrench open the back door. It was stuck. “It’s already too late for the occupants in the front, but there’s a child in the back.”

  The baby’s screams increased in intensity, along with the wail of more sirens. Rohan looked up and spied two fire engines bearing down on them. It seemed like there were blue and red strobe emergency lights everywhere. He pulled hard on the door handle again and finally felt it give. With a shout of triumph, he tore the panel open and bent down to rescue the child.

  The baby was strapped into a car seat that was wedged hard up against the front seat. No matter what Rohan did, he couldn’t seem to free the straps. The baby’s screaming pierced his eardrums and yet he continued to work at a frantic pace. The smell of gas grew stronger and he knew it was only a matter of time. As if reading his panicked thoughts, Rohan heard one of the fire captains shouting at the crowd.

  “Clear the area! Everybody get back! This tanker could blow at any minute.”

  Working even more feverishly, Rohan cursed when the straps continued to hold. The only way to free the child was to cut through them.

  “I need a knife!” he shouted. “For Christ’s sake, someone bring me a knife!”

  Bryce materialized at his elbow with a blade in his hand. Rohan didn’t question where he’d gotten it from. He was just relieved to have it.

  “Rohan, we have to get out of here! That tanker’s going to go!”

  The urgency in Bryce’s voice and the panic in his eyes told Rohan all he needed to know. This wasn’t some training exercise where any minute the drill sergeant would blow his whistle and call it off. This was the real thing and peoples’ lives were on the line. His, included.

  Sawing through the thick straps that held the baby in place, Rohan’s heart thumped so hard it felt like he was about to die. The baby screamed, his face a bright red, but Rohan continued to work away.

  “Rohan! For fuck’s sake! You have to get out of the way!”

  Ignoring Bryce, he cut through the last strap and almost collapsed with relief. With no time to linger, he snatched up the baby and hauled the child out of the car. Running faster than he ever had in his life, he headed for safety, away from the tanker.

  It seemed like only seconds later that he was deafened by an enormous explosion. The ground shook from the force of it. He stumbled and almost fell. Covering the baby’s head with his jacket, he shielded the child from harm.

  “Get down, Rohan! It could blow again!”

  Rohan nodded at Bryce to show him he understood and half-crawled, half-ran toward the row of ambulances parked well clear of the danger zone. It seemed like a lifetime passed before he finally reached the safety of the emergency vehicles, the baby still in his arms. Paramedics ran toward him, reaching for the child. He handed the screaming bundle over with a grateful sigh.

  “It’s all right, Detective. We have him. You can let go now.”

  Rohan prised his fingers open and stepped away. Residual shock set in and he began to tremble uncontrollably. Another paramedic came toward him and he could see the concern on her face. A moment later, everything went fuzzy and he fell face down on the ground.

  * * *

  Alistair stared at the computer screen in front of him and scanned through his emails. Many were from pharmaceutical companies and other medical supply businesses, flogging their products. He looked at them briefly before consigning them to the trash.

  As he’d promised Sam at her birthday lunch, he’d sat with their mother earlier in the day while she underwent one of her thrice-weekly dialysis sessions and had done his best to distract her from what was happening. Though it had only been a few days, he’d been shocked at her appearance. Thin and sallow, she looked like someone close to death. Sadness and panic filled his gut. He didn’t want to believe they wouldn’t find a donor kidney, but time was fast running out.

  He cursed under his breath and a surge of frustration flooded through him. What he’d told Sam was true. It aggravated him beyond measure that he was the head of the Organ Donation for Transplantation Unit in the largest hospital in Australia and couldn’t find a single kidney for his dying mother.

  Pushing the depressing thoughts aside, he continued to scroll through his emails. One in particular caught his eye. It had been sent from a company purporting to be in the business of supplying human organ and tissue to international agencies, who then supplied the donated body parts to medical facilities who undertook the transplants. Perhaps they could help locate a kidney for his mother… Alistair frowned and scrolled down further, reading as he went.

  According to the email, Biologistics was a company based in the US and had received approval for its business from the American Food and Drug Administration. The FDA was responsible for overseeing the legitimacy of such companies and they’d apparently given Biologistics five stars. Doctor Charles Shillington, the CEO of Biologistics, had contacted Alistair with a view to making him a proposal: Would he be interested in helping them to supply the market? The email implied that if his answer was in the affirmative, he’d be extremely well compensated.

  Compensated? An interesting idea. Up until now, he’d been the one doing the compensating. It had been tough, in addition to paying all the bills for his children, but he’d considered the added expense an acceptable sacrifice for the worthy work he’d been doing. To receive financial gain would make it even more satisfying.

  Alistair’s heart began to pound. Trafficking in human tissue was illegal in most countries, including Australia and the US. What the hell was Shillington getting at? Was the email even legitimate? And if so, how, and why had they chosen to contact him?

  Typing the name “Biologistics” into Google, Alistair waited for the search results and was surprised to discover the company had a website. Until he found it, he’d been sure the email was a hoax. Clicking on the link, he read through the details on the homepage.

  Like the email claimed, the company was not only legitimate and FDA approved, it had been established ten years earlier and there were pages of testimonials from doctors lauding the service provided by the company. A page dedicated to its CEO, Charles Shillington, indicated the doctor had established the company in order to fill a need. He wanted to help facilitate the business of organ and tissue harvesting by sourcing good quality body parts and making them available to those in need.

  And those who could afford them, Alistair thought dryly.

  Knowing he’d probably regret it, but curious to know more, Alistair shot off a reply. Within minutes, he received another email.

  Doctor Wolfe,

  I’m so pleased to receive your email. I appreciate you have several questions about our business and exactly what we do. To answer your first question, we found your contact details on the Sydney Harbour Hospital website. For some time, we’ve been looking for more people to join our team. And not just any people. We need the right kind of people. People who understand our goals and who are willing to work with us to help us achieve them.

  In the US alone, more than two million products derived from human tissue change hands between suppliers and medical facilities each year. We are in an industry that promotes treatments and products that literally allow the blind to see and the lame to walk. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that?

  We are a legitimate, FDA-approved company and while you quite rightly point out that it’s illegal to buy or sell human tissue, it is permissible in the US to pay service fee
s to cover the costs of finding, storing, and processing human tissue. I understand the same rules might not apply in your country and it is important that you weigh up any potential risk against the benefits. Pleased be assured, the benefits are many.

  Apart from the immense satisfaction members of our team receive knowing they are a part of something almost miraculous, Biologistics rewards its suppliers very generously. We are prepared to pay a handsome sum for good and useable human tissue. All you have to do is let us know that you would like to be part of this exciting venture.

  The email had been signed: Charles Shillington, CEO, Biologistics. Alistair reread the email twice more and was filled with a growing sense of excitement. He did his best to keep it in check, but he couldn’t deny the possibility of contributing to a tissue donation scheme on such a magnificent scale was mind-blowing. The fact that he could make a little money from it was an added bonus. If luck prevailed, it might even cover some of his kids’ annual school fees. With fingers that weren’t quite steady, he shot off another reply.

  What kind of money are you talking?

  Once again, he received a reply in minutes.

  To put it more plainly, for every five pounds of disease-free human tissue you provide, we will pay you the sum of $50,000 US dollars—deposited directly into your nominated account. All you have to do is say the word. We’ll handle pickup and transportation—the logistics.

  Alistair’s eyes bugged out of his head. Fifty grand? For five pounds of tissue? How could they afford to pay him that much? He had no idea there could be so much money involved in the human tissue industry. And, why would he? Trafficking in human body parts was illegal in Australia. Even human tissue imported into Australia was regulated by the government and closely scrutinized. There was no possibility a company such as Biologistics could be established here. Was it possible to get away with such a thing in the US?