“My boss is afraid of causing a disruptive and costly panic here in NYC until we have a firm diagnosis. And there is reason for her position. There’s been so much worry and preparation and even agency-wide exercises for a new, deadly flu pandemic here in the city that she is afraid the response that was generated could not be controlled if it was a false alarm. So far, she has been correct. There hasn’t been another case. Anyway, she has chosen not to let the Department of Health know about this case. Consequently, she doesn’t want the CDC prematurely contactingthe media or, worse yet, sending an army of CDC epidemiological investigators up here.”
“Okay,” Aretha said. “I understand. Well, I didn’t provide any details. All I said was it was an unknown virus. Nothing else. I didn’t even say the patient died.”
“Good,” Jack said. “That sounds innocuous enough. Hey, I think we are going to be on the same team tonight.”
“Great,” Aretha said, and she high-fived Jack.
Jack said he’d give her a yell when they were ready for her and headed back to the basketball court. His timing was near perfect. As Jack reached the court the final basket was made by Warren’s team to win the game. Turning around, he yelled for Aretha to come over to the court on the double. She waved back to indicate she had heard.
As the disappointed losers slunk off the court, Jack, Flash, Ron, and David walked on. They were eager to take a few practice shots. But before he took any shots, Jack approached Warren and took him aside.
“I need to ask a favor, my friend,” Jack said, talking quietly. “I’d like to borrow your wheels tomorrow. I need to drive out to Dover, New Jersey.”
“Why Dover?” Warren questioned. Perspiration glistened on the well-defined muscles of his Greek-statue-like body, which always made Jack feel decidedly inadequate. “There’s nothing out there but a bunch of little lakes and green mountains. Well, not really mountains. More like green hills.”
“It’s a complicated story. I want to visit a hospital, a pharmaceutical company, and a farm, which are all connected to a young woman I autopsied. She died yesterday morning on the subway with a flu-like illness.”
“You’re too much, Doc,” Warren said. “You always have some weird shit happening. Sure! You can use my Escalade. It’s on the south side of 106th Street, down near Columbus Ave. You’ll need to gas it up. The thing is a thirsty mother.”
17
WEDNESDAY, 6:05 A.M.
It seemed strange to Jack to be driving to work. Actually, it seemed strange to be driving at all. Ever since coming to NYC to accept an associate medical examiner position at the OCME fifteen or so years ago, he could count on his hands the number of times he’d driven a motor vehicle. Back in Champaign, Illinois, when he’d been a practicing ophthalmologist, using a car was second nature, as he drove every day to and from his office and to and from the hospital. His Range Rover had been like an appendage. But when he arrived in New York he’d seen a car as a handicap and had adopted the bicycle. He wished more people would follow his lead. As far as he was concerned, the Dutch and the Danish urban dwellers had the right idea.
Despite a fine misty rain falling, Jack missed his morning ride and felt a bit claustrophobic confined inside a metal box, even a large metal box like the black Escalade he was driving. The car was a relatively new model, but the actual year Jack had no idea. Nor did he care. It was going to carry him out to Dover, New Jersey, that morning, and that was all that mattered.
Progress was slow, especially driving across town after using one ofthe traverses through Central Park. As he waited at most every traffic light in Midtown, Jack felt sorry for all the drivers, himself included. They all looked and acted angry, each trying to nose the others out of the way to gain an advantage measured in feet. It was an aggravating, dog-eat-dog world blanketed in exhaust fumes.
Like he did the day before, Jack felt a little guilty about rising early and sneaking out of the house, but not guilty enough not to have done it. After exhausting himself last night on the basketball court, he’d returned to the apartment, showered, and then tried to be social with Laurie’s parents. But it hadn’t worked. To keep the conversation neutral, Jack had tried to talk about his day and the trials and tribulations of making an identification on the subway death. Thinking Sheldon and Dorothy and Laurie, too, might find it interesting, Jack recounted his visit to the tattoo parlor. As an added piece of information, he described learning that the puzzle tattoo had been adopted by the autism awareness movement.
The mere reference to Emma’s diagnosis forced the issue back into the open, and Sheldon’s presence did little to ameliorate the controversies and emotional toll. Not only did the MMR issue resurface, to Jack’s intense chagrin, but so did Laurie’s failure to take maternity leave soon enough to prevent the developing embryo from having to deal with formaldehyde and other preservatives and chemicals. Sheldon even brought up his lifelong disappointment in Laurie’s choice of forensic pathology over thoracic surgery, which stimulated a comment from Dorothy that Laurie’s choice had been an embarrassment for her with her fellow fund-raising friends. From Jack’s perspective, the evening had turned into a disaster, and getting away that morning before facing anyone was an act of self-preservation.
Arriving in the area of the OCME, Jack drove directly to the 421 high-rise. There was little to no parking around 520 where his office was located, but plenty near 421. Next to 421 was a large open lot, which was to be the future home of the new morgue building. It was also the place that huge balloon tents would be raised if and when a 1918 influenza-likepandemic broke out. These tents were part of the elaborate emergency plans that had been drawn up to deal with such a disaster and would house additional autopsy space. Also, currently parked in this area were a fleet of large refrigerator trailers for body storage that would be delivered to all the metropolitan hospitals in a severe flu pandemic. They, too, were part of the extensive preparation and training the city had been doing in anticipation of a deadly pandemic. Jack was one of the people who knew that as many as five hundred deaths a day could be expected in such a circumstance, which was why the subway death scared him as much as it did.
Pulling into the lot through a gate in a temporary chain-link fence, he parked the Escalade. To avoid any problems, he left a note on the dash with his name and mobile number. He didn’t expect any problems. He knew a lot of people in both 421 and 520 who took advantage of parking there.
Initially, Jack had every intention of hiking directly to 520, but since he was already in the shadow of 421, he thought he’d stop in and ask Janice Jaeger if she knew anything at all about Dover Valley Hospital. Janice had been the night-shift MLI for many, many years, and Jack had always been impressed with the range of her experience with local hospitals, even a few in New Jersey. It seemed that she had talked with all of them or visited them in the course of her investigative work. He found her at her desk, readingThe New York Times. Once again, it had been a quiet night for her.
“What on earth are you doing here this early two days in a row?” Janice asked playfully when she looked up and saw Jack approach.
“You wouldn’t want to know, trust me,” Jack said. He then went on to ask her about the Dover Valley Hospital in New Jersey.
“That’s a hospital I’ve never had any dealings with,” Janice said. “Sorry. But I do know a little about the Morristown Medical Center, which is only about ten miles away. That whole area is familiar, if youwant some general information. My parents had a home on Lake Hopatcong before they went to Florida. Hopatcong is just a bit beyond Dover.”
“It’s Dover Valley that I’m interested in,” Jack said. “Thanks anyway.”
“I hear you finally got an ID on that subway case,” Janice said. “It is certainly strange it took so long.”
“We didn’t get an ID,” Jack corrected. “So far all we’ve got is a name. That’s the reason I’m interested in Dover Valley Hospital. I’m hoping to get a full informational ID from them.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Janice said. “I heard people came in last night, IDed the body, and took it with them.”
“What?” Jack practically yelled. “I hadn’t heard that. Why wasn’t I called? I thought there was a standing order for me to be called if that happened.”
“When I came on duty I’d heard that order had been rescinded by Bart Arnold. Did you tell him you had a name?”
“I did,” Jack said. “But only a name, as I said.”
