“That is pretty much impossible,” Bonnie said. “All our cardiac transplants are on immunosuppressants. They have to be to avoid rejection, even with a good match.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jack said. “It’s just another point that makes this case not the normal run-of-the-mill, just like you said. To be truthful, I’m fascinated on multiple levels. I’m also convinced this case needs a bit more investigation before I can sign it out. I think a house call is in order. I can be over there in thirty minutes. Is it possible for you to still be there?”
“I was supposed to have left at three,” Bonnie said. “Of course, I neverdo. I still have some odds and ends to attend to. On top of that, I don’t know if I can tell you much more than I already have.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Jack said. “And perhaps there are others who were directly involved with the case that I can chat with, such as the surgeon of record. I would imagine he would be interested in what was found at autopsy.”
“That’s a good point,” Bonnie agreed. “I’m guessing it was Dr. Barton. I’ll see if I can locate him. There’s no doubt he’ll want to talk with you.”
“How will I find you?”
“Come to the Zhao Heart Center. The transplant program is on the fourth floor, north wing. Dr. Barton’s office is down the hall from me, which will make that easy. I’ll leave word for the heart center receptionists to page me when you get here.”
“See you shortly.” Jack was already on his feet. As he disconnected, he grabbed his leather bomber jacket. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed one of the autopsy photos of the subway death, folded it in quarters, and stuck it in his back pocket on his way out the door.
14
TUESDAY, 4:05 P.M.
As Jack cycled northward in the direction of Manhattan General Hospital, he was oblivious to the rush-hour traffic. Despite the frustrations he’d been experiencing to date with the subway death case, he now felt totally energized. Although he was well aware he needed proper identification only as an adjunct for potential epidemiological reasons if the causative agent turned out to be a virus capable of causing a pandemic, he now had a new and more personal stimulus for his interest in the case. His old nemesis, AmeriCare, and its sentinel hospital, MGH, were involved. And better still, the affair was beginning to feel as if it was not entirely kosher.
Like most doctors, Jack was cognizant of the seriousness associated with the distribution of organs for transplantation because of their shortage and the extent to which fairness was emphasized. Jack knew that at any given day about three thousand people in the USA alone were desperately waiting for hearts, with many patients dying before one can be found. He also knew that the distribution of the available hearts was carefully carried out by UNOS, the United Network for Organ Sharing. But from his conversation with Bonnie Vanderway, UNOS had not beeninvolved with the patient he’d autopsied. Laughing at his own mixed metaphor, Jack thought he didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to smell something fishy.
Jack began to whistle as he pedaled. He had needed a diversion, and now he had found one that filled the bill in spades, and one that was going to continue even if it turned out a virus was not involved. At the same time, he cautioned himself for Laurie’s sake. The last time Jack had made a significant ruckus at Manhattan General Hospital over the results of a series of autopsies he’d done almost ten years ago, it had caused significant trouble for Laurie’s predecessor. The fallout had almost gotten Jack fired. And now, on this occasion, especially after Laurie’s specific warning, Jack knew he would have to be diplomatic, provided he was capable. Mainly, he would need to control his usual knee-jerk response of vociferously making it known to all parties involved when he confronted malfeasance or incompetence or a combination of both.
Reaching MGH, Jack found a street sign to lock up his Trek. He even locked up his helmet and bomber jacket with a separate wire lock that also secured the seat. He’d had a bad experience in the neighborhood and was intent on avoiding another.
For a moment he stood in the shadow of the soaring high-rise hospital. It had been a respected academic teaching hospital in its former life but had fallen on hard times in the early 1990s, when AmeriCare had been able to snap it up at a fire-sale price.
Inside, Jack took the elevators directly up to the fourth floor. He couldn’t help but remember the episode years ago when he had exposed a supervisor in the hospital’s laboratory who was purposefully spreading lethal infectious disease. The man had wanted to start an epidemic but luckily didn’t understand the dynamics. He had mistakenly chosen microorganisms that didn’t spread well person-to-person until he, too, had hit on the idea of influenza.
The moment Jack got off the elevator on the fourth floor, he was impressed. Although some portions of MGH had not been renovatedafter AmeriCare had taken over the facility, the Zhao Heart Center certainly had, and it had been done recently. It was the picture of modernity, and it appeared as if no expense had been spared. Jack imagined that patients couldn’t help but be dazzled and inspired with confidence. Although, knowing AmeriCare as well as he did, he hoped that glitz was backed up by an equal attention to the equipment behind the scenes.
As the clinic day was winding down, there were only a moderate number of patients in the waiting area and none at the main desk. Jack was able to walk directly up to one of the two receptionists. As befitting the environment, she was smartly dressed, and she gave Jack a warm smile and her full attention. Even that was new for Jack. In the past he’d felt that the AmeriCare management style was deficient in small details related to customer service.
Jack gave his name and asked for Bonnie Vanderway, just as she had instructed.
“Yes, of course,” the receptionist said. “We’ve been expecting you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Jack looked around a bit more at the decor. It was truly noteworthy, and perhaps the best hospital clinic environment he’d ever seen. Turning back to the receptionist, he asked when the clinic had been redone.
“Almost three years ago,” the receptionist said. “Do you like it, Doctor?”
“It would be hard not to like it,” Jack said. “I bet patients like it as well.”
“They love it,” the receptionist said.
“I suppose it’s named after a benefactor,” Jack commented.
“It is,” the receptionist agreed. “Mr. Wei Zhao.”
“Mr. Zhao must have been a very thankful patient.” Vaguely, he wondered how many millions it would take to have an entire heart center named after you in a private hospital.
“Mr. Zhao was not a patient,” the receptionist said. “I was told he was a Chinese billionaire businessman. He’s a member of our hospital board.”
“Lucky AmeriCare,” Jack said, and meant it.
“He is a very nice man,” the receptionist said. “I met him.”
