“But that’s just the point.” Laurie raised a brow. “There has been so much worry and planning put into dealing with a possible lethal influenza pandemic like the one in 1918 that the mere suggestion one is in the making will cause a veritable panic. And if a panic starts it will be very difficult to stop, and it could bring the city to a standstill and cost hundreds of millions of dollars. What I’m saying is that putting out word at this point will do more harm than good.”
“Yet getting a jump on the situation could save lives,” Jack persisted.
“Jack, I am not going to alert anyone until there’s a firm diagnosis,” Laurie said sternly. “I’m the chief medical examiner and that is my decision. Period!”
Taken aback by Laurie’s sudden vehemence, Jack merely stared at his wife. It was painfully obvious that she was exerting executive privilege and ending the discussion as if he were a mere low-level employee. The disagreement, if there had been one, was over. Jack couldn’t believe it.
“And let me be clear,” Laurie continued. “I don’t want you going over my head on this issue. I know you did that to Dr. Bingham on at least one occasion. I won’t be happy if you do it to me. We will wait for laboratory confirmation before we terrorize the city and the Department of Health.And that goes for the CDC, too. Do not call the CDC! Having their epidemiology officers nosing around here would have the same result.”
Jack studied her in silence for a moment. “Are you ordering me as my commanding officer or as my wife?”
“That kind of question doesn’t even deserve an answer,” Laurie said. “When I accepted this job, I accepted the responsibility it entails, which you and I talked about ad nauseam. We both entered this new phase with our eyes open. I expect you to support me both as an OCME employee and as my husband.”
“I thought I was already doing both,” Jack said while fighting against his rising irritation.
“I’m afraid I need a lot of support,” Laurie confessed, her tone softening. “I’m handling it, but it’s all so much more stressful than I imagined. At a minimum, I’m counting on you not to make things more difficult. And I’m sensing you are getting... how should I say it?... overly invested in this subway death, which could be problematic.”
“How could I not?” Jack questioned.
“I know you, Jack Stapleton,” Laurie said. “I distinctly remember back when we learned about JJ’s tumor you went overboard on a chiropractic case that almost got you fired. Now we are facing a struggle with Emma. I’m worried that you might be latching on to this current case in the same way.”
Jack could feel his irritation continue to mount. It was demeaning to realize he was so obvious. What she was saying was true. He needed a diversion.
“So I’d like to also ask you to allow Bart Arnold and the other experienced MLIs we have to do their job. Don’t go running out into the field yourself, provoking people and causing trouble on this case. When you’re motivated and come across incompetence, which we both know there’s a lot of out there, you are not the most diplomatic person in the world. If you cause trouble now, it will only make my job more difficult, especially since you are my husband.”
“You’ve done some serious ‘running out into the field’ yourself,” Jack snapped. Both he and Laurie had trained at programs that encouraged the medical examiners to go out into the field as an adjunct to their investigations into the manner and cause of death. Since the NYC OCME had a different philosophy, relying on the MLIs to do the fieldwork, he and Laurie had run afoul of the previous chief on several occasions.
“When we were training,” Laurie said, “neither one of us had the kind of MLI support that we have here.”
“Okay, I’ll try to behave myself,” Jack said tersely. “Are you coming home soon?” He wanted to change the subject before he said something he might regret. In his reincarnation as a furiously independent person born out of the demise of his first family in the air crash, he didn’t like to be bossed around. At the moment he felt he was being bossed around big-time.
“I wish,” Laurie said. She relaxed a degree. “After being on the phone most of the afternoon, I’ve got a ton of things to attend to before I can leave. Also, I have to prepare for tomorrow’s conference call about the new morgue building alongside 421. Budget problems are nonstop. They’re going to be the death of me.”
“I cannot for the life of me understand how you can put up with all the bureaucratic bullshit,” Jack said. “All right, I’ll see you at home. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.” He headed for the door.
“And I wish you wouldn’t ride that bike,” Laurie called after him. “I need you healthy on multiple fronts.”
Don’t go there,Jack thought but didn’t say. He’d been given enough orders, thank you very much. Instead of responding verbally, he just waved over his shoulder, indicating he’d heard but was going to ignore the suggestion.
Back in his office, he grabbed his leather bomber jacket, which he wore on his bike rides to and from work at that time of the year. But before he descended to the morgue level to get the bike, he put in a call to Bart Arnold.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything,” Jack said when he had the man on the line.
“Nothing yet,” Bart said. “But we are expecting something imminently. This is the time of day people are expected to arrive home from work, or from wherever the day took them. I’m confident we’ll be hearing in the next hour or so. Have you heard anything from Virology?”
“Not a word,” Jack said. “Listen, be sure to let the evening and the night MLI team know that I would like a call the moment an ID is made. Also, I definitely want to be notified if there is another similar death, wherever it might take place. It doesn’t have to be on a subway car. It just has to be a sudden respiratory death or one from a known case of influenza.”
“I understand completely,” Bart said. “I’ll make absolutely sure everyone knows.”
After hanging up, Jack kept his hand resting on his phone as he debated calling Aretha Jefferson. Ultimately, he decided against it. He didn’t want to disturb her when she might be in the middle of doing the tests he wanted. More important, she’d promised to call him as soon as she had any results. Instead, he took out his mobile and changed the ringtone toAlarmso he’d be sure to hear it from deep within his jacket pocket while on the bike.
6
MONDAY, 6:20 P.M.
By far the best part of Jack’s day was the ride home on his Trek road bike. It was the lightest and best-designed bike he’d ever had, and he could easily get his speed up to more than twenty miles per hour. Especially when there was traffic, which there always was in New York City in the late afternoon, he was much faster than any motor vehicle. From the 520 OCME building he could make it all the way up to the southeast corner of Central Park in less than twenty minutes, just as he did that evening.
The Central Park portion of his ride was always the pinnacle. Since the park was crowded with numerous homeward-bound pedestrians filling the walkways, Jack had to stay on the East Drive all the way around until it started heading south and changed its name to West Drive. With no motor traffic allowed on the road, it was a pleasant and safe route. There were lots of other bike riders, joggers, and in-line skaters. Jack enjoyed racing with a few of the other, more serious bikers. At the very end of his journey he allowed himself to ride on a short section of sidewalk, even though he knew it was verboten. The sidewalk brought him out onto Central Park West right at the corner of his block, West 106th Street.
