The approach to the hospital was altogether different. Instead of the rather forbidding look surrounding GeneRx, it was inviting, with lawns, contoured shrubbery, and carefully attended flowerbeds bursting with mums and other fall flowers. What was not evident at either building was many people. As Jack parked and walked to the hospital entrance, only one other family emerged from the hospital and headed to their car. No ambulances came rushing with their sirens blazing, bound for the emergency room drop-off. The entire complex had a serene, futuristic atmosphere.
But inside the building it was different. As soon as Jack entered he felt immediately at home, as if he was back in Champaign, Illinois, in his former life, arriving at a more modern version of the hospital where he did his eye surgery. In contrast to the parking lot, there were plenty of people, and they were all in the usual outfits seen in a community hospital, including pink-smocked volunteer ladies manning an information booth. There was even a busy coffee shop and a sundries store.
Jack approached the information booth, deciding on a strategy on the spur of the moment. He had considered asking for Dr. Lauder, the fellow forensic pathologist, but decided he preferred to talk directly with someone who was part of the hospital organization and not a temporary hired hand. He ended up asking for the medical director of the Zhao Heart Center, with the idea of going for the jugular.
“That would be Dr. Theodore Markham,” the volunteer said in response to his question. She motioned for Jack to pick up one of the red phones on the information booth’s countertop. A moment later, Jack was talking to the man’s secretary. When Jack asked for the doctor, thesecretary asked who she could say was calling. Jack gave his full name and his official position in hopes that curiosity might get him a few minutes with the clinic director. The woman politely asked him to hold the line, promising she would be right back.
As Jack waited, he marveled at how much more civil people could be in contrast to how they were all too often in the city. But it turned out the secretary had been lying. She didn’t come right back on the line as she’d promised. Instead, it was Dr. Theodore Markham himself.
“Is this really Dr. Jack Stapleton of the NYC OCME?” the doctor asked, as if he hadn’t believed his secretary. His tone suggested true surprise, even glee.
“The one and only,” Jack said, trying to tamp down his urge for sarcasm. He did not expect to be greeted with open arms after showing up uninvited at an institution that was possibly doing something not entirely kosher at best and immoral and illegal at worst.
“But this is an internal line,” the medical director said.
“It is indeed,” Jack responded. “I’m here at the information booth of your hospital.”
“Well, isn’t that terrific! I’ll be right down.”
Jack replaced the receiver with a sense of surprise. He’d been mildly concerned about how he’d be received, yet it seemed the man was truly delighted that Jack had unexpectedly dropped by. And this impression was confirmed when the doctor appeared. Although Jack had never met the man, he knew who he was the moment he got off the elevator. Of course, it helped that he waved as he rapidly approached, almost at a jog. He was of small to moderate stature and clean-shaven, sported a full head of dark, curly hair, and was smartly dressed with a crisp white shirt and fashionable tie. Most noticeable to Jack was that he moved with great energy, as though he’d had ten cups of coffee, such that his long white unbuttoned coat billowed behind him as if he were heading into a wind.
“Welcome!” the doctor said, enthusiastically pumping Jack’s hand. “To what do we owe this pleasant surprise? Please call me Ted.”
“I just had a few questions about a case,” Jack said, nonplussed at his reception. In his role as the final arbiter of patient care or the lack thereof, Jack was accustomed to defensive posturing by physicians. Secretly he wondered what the man would say if Jack admitted that a large part of why he was there was the need for an engrossing diversion from emotionally problematic domestic issues.
“Well, we will do our best to answer them,” Ted said. “Please, come up to my office.” He gestured over his shoulder back toward the elevators.
“Sure,” Jack said, following his exuberant host.
“It’s quite a facility, isn’t it?” Ted said as they boarded the elevator. He hit the button for the second floor of the four-story building.
“It’s surprising,” Jack said. “It’s not what I think of when I think of a community hospital.”
Ted laughed with genuine amusement. “It is actually unbelievable. This fabulous architectural wonder of a building is not even half of it. The medical equipment we have is astounding. And everything is essentially brand-new. Believe me, this place is going to be on the map big-time.”
“How so?” Jack asked as the elevator door opened.
“Heart transplants, for one,” Ted said. “That’s going to be the main draw, although other organs will also be done. And our IVF clinic could rival the heart program. And gene therapy. And personalized cancer treatments. There are so many exciting things going on. I tell you, the sky is the limit. The secret is that we get to work directly with the hundreds of bioscientists across the lawn at GeneRx. That means we have a direct link from laboratory bench to hospital bedside. None of the usual town/gown divide. You’ve heard of the gene-editing marvel of CRISPR/CAS9, haven’t you?”
“To a degree,” Jack said as they walked down the hallway of a clinic that rivaled the Zhao Heart Center at MGH, which Jack had visited the day before.
“This little hospital stands to be the first out of the gate with the marvels CRISPR/CAS9 is going to bring to clinical medicine,” Tedexplained. He gestured for Jack to precede him into his attractive corner office. “GeneRx specializes in biologicals, meaning protein-based drugs made by living systems. In their case, it’s mostly goats, sheep, pigs, and even chickens, and a few other animals, too.”
Once inside and gazing out the window, Jack had a better view of the biopharmaceutical building, including the Farm behind it. The farm portion wasn’t visible from the public road or from the hospital parking lot.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Ted said, gesturing toward a group of Herman Miller chairs at a round table. “Can I get you anything?” he asked graciously. “Coffee, tea, water, or even a Coke if you’d like.”
“A coffee would be nice,” Jack said. While Ted went to ask his secretary to get the coffee, Jack looked around at Ted’s many framed diplomas from big-name institutions, including the American Boards of Internal Medicine and Cardiology. Jack couldn’t help but be impressed. Ted was an extremely well-trained academic cardiologist. Jack knew the type. They selflessly dedicated their lives to medicine as a true calling.
“I have a confession to make,” Ted said when he returned and took one of the seats. “I took the liberty of calling our chief cardiac surgeon, Dr. Stephen Friedlander, right after you called me to say you were downstairs. I knew he’d want to come by to say hello and have an opportunity to thank you. We are all indebted to your efforts at identifying poor Carol Stewart.”
“How exactly did you find out?” Jack asked.
“We got a call from Dr. Chris Barton right after you left MGH yesterday. He told us of your visit to the Zhao Heart Center and explained all the effort you had expended and what you had managed to accomplish, thanks to a tattoo. Of course, we were crushed to learn of her untimely death. She was a courageous woman who had struggled with cardiomyopathy for several years. She was well-known around here, truly admired, and liked. It was a real loss for all of us. But we needed to know because we need to find out why it happened, so it doesn’t happen in the future. You did us a great service. Thank you so much.”
“It’s part of my job,” Jack said.
“That may be true, but from Chris Barton’s perspective you went way beyond what he would have expected,” Ted said. “Anyway, thank you. So, what are your questions? I’ll be happy to try to answer them, unless they involve details of surgical technique.”
