Picking his phone back up, Jack went into his contacts to pull up Warren’s information. If the Dover Valley Hospital shuttle didn’t work out, he wanted to have a backup. As he was waiting to see if Warren picked up, he thought about Harvey’s having used the pronoun “our” inrelation to the Dover Valley Hospital. It made him wonder if it was just a figure of speech or if Harvey Lauder had some proprietary interest in the hospital. The thought stemmed from a comment Wei Zhao had made. A second later his phone buzzed, indicating an incoming call. Jack terminated the call to Warren and answered. It was Harvey, already calling back.
“We’re in luck,” Harvey said. “We do have a vehicle in the city that can come and pick you up at 520 First Avenue. How soon would you be ready to go?”
“As soon as I cancel my lunch date with the Pope, I’ll be ready,” Jack said. He couldn’t believe his luck that this was actually going to happen.
Harvey laughed. “I’m sure the Pope will be disappointed. We’ll have one of our Suburbans at the front of your building in fifteen minutes. There will be a sign with your name on the passenger-side window. The driver will bring you directly here to the Dover Valley Hospital, and I’ll meet you in the reception area. Any questions?”
“None that come to mind,” Jack said. “See you soon.”
For a few minutes Jack sat there staring ahead at nothing while his mind rekindled thoughts of his weird luncheon with Wei Zhao and how angry he’d become when it was apparent Wei had had him investigated. Jack’s intuition was telling him that Wei and his sprawling organization were ultimately responsible for all that was happening, including his administrative leave of absence and the deaths of five people, maybe even six, if this new case did turn out to be the same as the others. Jack was aware he didn’t have any real reason to believe this, but he did nonetheless, and under the circumstances he relished the opportunity to find out if he was correct.
35
THURSDAY, 10:05 A.M.
To avoid being seen by any of the higher-ups, Jack left the building from the receiving bay on the basement level. He certainly didn’t want to run into Laurie or Paul and be questioned as to where he was going. He then walked west on 30th Street up to First Avenue. Traffic on the avenue was still extraordinarily light, indicating the city was still far from back to normal.
Just as Harvey had promised, a black Suburban was waiting at the curb directly in front of the OCME entrance. Although the city was full of black Chevy Suburbans, Jack couldn’t help but wonder if this was the same SUV that had pulled out behind their Uber car that morning or the one that had been slowly trolling behind him when he’d returned from his visit to the Public Health Laboratory. Whether it was or not, it had a letter-size piece of paper with his name printed by hand in block letters taped to the inside of the tinted passenger window.
Jack walked directly up to the vehicle and opened the door with the intent of climbing in. He was surprised to find the seat already occupied by a youthful Asian man, who Jack guessed was in his mid-to-late twenties.
Before any words were spoken, the man leaped out the moment the door opened. He was well groomed, dressed casually but elegantly, and appeared fit, like a committed sportsman. “Are you Dr. Stapleton?” he asked with a heavy accent.
“I am,” Jack said.
The man quickly opened the rear door and allowed Jack to climb in before he got back into the front seat. A moment later they were off. Because of the lack of traffic, they made good time heading across town on 31st Street.
The driver was also Asian and appeared to be close to the same age as the man in the passenger seat. He, too, was nicely dressed. Jack couldn’t help but be moderately impressed with their clothes and grooming, considering how the current Generation Z seemed to prefer to present themselves.
After a few minutes of driving in total silence with even the men in the front seat not talking to each other, Jack thought he’d make an attempt at conversation. “Thanks for picking me up,” he said as a potential opener.
Since they were at that moment stopped at a traffic light, the driver was able to turn around. “You are very welcome,” he said. In contrast to the man in the passenger seat, he seemed to have no accent at all. He could have been an American, as far as Jack was concerned. But rather than initiating a conversation with Jack, the short exchange resulted in a seemingly heated discussion between the two men in what Jack thought might be Mandarin. It wasn’t until they were about to enter the Lincoln Tunnel that they reached an apparent resolution, as both men fell silent.
“Is there a problem?” Jack asked. He felt like the odd man out yet somehow responsible for what sounded like a disagreement.
“No problem,” the driver said, without any other explanation.
“Are you guys speaking Mandarin?” Jack asked out of curiosity.
“Yes,” the driver said simply.
Jack shrugged. He didn’t care one way or the other whether therewas any talk. Instead of making an effort at chatting, he tried to think of how he was going to handle the visit to the Dover Valley Hospital with the invariable questions he’d face about his role in the snafu of the New York City shutdown. He knew they would have heard, as the news had undoubtedly gone around the world in seconds. But after thinking for just a few minutes, he decided he’d just have to wing it, mainly because he wasn’t sure if they knew about his recent administrative leave. He knew the chances were good that the media would learn of it if the mayor was in as desperate need of a scapegoat as Laurie had suggested.
The next topic was how he was going to handle himself after the autopsy. The question in his mind was how forceful he should be with whom. He had many questions that needed answers, like whether the Bannons had been paid for their son’s heart, or why Wei Zhao was the executor of Carol Stewart’s estate, and how she and the donor heart could have matching CODIS results. He also wondered how he might finagle another interaction with “the emperor,” Wei Zhao. Ultimately, Jack decided he really couldn’t plan and would need to improvise depending on what he learned, starting with the autopsy of Margaret Sorenson.
Forty-five minutes later the two silent, statue-like men drove Jack directly up to the front door of the Dover Valley Hospital. But then, even before the car came to a complete halt, the man in the passenger-side front seat erupted in a flurry of activity and leaped out to open the rear door for Jack.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Jack said as he slid out of the Suburban. “It’s been a memorable conversation.”
Typical of the changeable weather in the Northeast, it had become a rather nice day with warm sun, in sharp contrast to what it was like when he and Laurie had gotten up that morning. As Jack walked toward the hospital’s entrance he noticed considerably more activity than there had been yesterday, with people coming and going. Even an ambulance arrived, and with its siren trailing off, it raced around to the ER entrance.Despite its futuristic architecture, it seemed like a normal, functioning community hospital.
Going through the revolving front door and expecting to have to head to the information desk, Jack was surprised to be immediately greeted by Harvey Lauder and Ted Markham. It was obvious that somehow they knew exactly when Jack would arrive. Seeing them together emphasized for Jack their differences. Although both were on the short side, with Harvey a bit shorter than Ted, they were opposite in body habitus; Harvey was stocky and phlegmatic, while Ted was slender and animated. Also, Harvey’s pug nose and thinning hair contrasted dramatically with Ted’s delicate features and his halo of dark curls.
“Welcome back,” Ted said. He shook Jack’s hand in an overly friendly fashion, gripping Jack’s forearm in the process. “I hope you make this a habit. We’re glad to see you again so soon. Thank you for coming.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Jack said. He then felt obligated to shake hands with Harvey as well. As he did so he wondered what they would say if they knew the true extent of how much he appreciated the invitation. He also wondered what they would say if they knew he’d just been put on unpaid administrative leave from the NYC OCME.
“What would you like to do?” Ted asked. “Harvey has the autopsy ready to go in our autopsy room in our morgue, but if you’d like to rest and perhaps have a coffee, that’s fine, too. It’s up to you.”
