He recalled a quote from Asimov: “In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate.” It’s time to start taking the initiative, he decided and straightened up. Filled with motivation, he took out his phone and dialed.
“Good day, Jim speaking.”
“Hi Jim, it’s Ronnie. I’m curious to hear about the autopsy results for the two people who died on the operating table.”
“Hi, Ronnie. Good to hear from you,” Jim sounded genuinely pleased. “Unfortunately, no postmortems were performed. The families objected, so the bodies were taken and buried.”
“I don’t get it. Isn’t it standard procedure to perform a postmortem in a case of unexplained death?”
“Absolutely. But in both cases, for religious reasons, the families objected to the autopsy and threatened a lawsuit if it was performed against their will. As far as I know, they signed documents releasing the hospitals from any responsibility and demanded to have their loved ones released for burial.”
“I —” Ronnie attempted to understand when Jim cut him off and continued, “What could possibly explain this strange behavior is that the Philadelphia family belongs to the Amish community, and the New York family are Orthodox Jews from Brooklyn. As far as both families are concerned, the deaths of their loved ones were an act of God.”
“A strange coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Not only is that strange, I also can’t think of a reason the patients died. All the previous operations were successful, we used the same medicine that was used in those procedures and even so this tragedy occurred. Of course, we’re checking all the processes on our end again, but I have to say so far we haven’t discovered any problem and everything seems in order. So either we’ve been struck by ill fortune, or someone interfered in a criminal way.”
“Are there any more vials remaining from this batch, ones we could send to a neutral laboratory to be examined?”
“Unfortunately, no, those were the last of the batch we used for all the clinical trials.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll send you a photo of all the vials left in the safe. They’re all empty and were all used in the previous trials.”
“What bothers me even more, is the fact the same disaster took place in two different hospitals, with two different medical staffs, while using the same medicine from a batch that’s already been checked,” Ronnie summed up quickly. “I’m going to Mount Sinai, where the patient from Brooklyn had surgery. I’ll try to fish for information that’ll help us understand what’s going on. Meanwhile, you keep checking as well, and update me if you find out anything.” He disconnected and pressed the receiver against his forehead, the thoughts gushing in his mind. A few long minutes later, he called Gadi and reached only his voicemail again. Ronnie sighed with frustration and rose from his seat.
“Evelyn, I’m going out of the office, and I’m not sure I’ll be coming back today. I’ll be available on my phone.”
“Take care of yourself, Ray,” she murmured without raising her eyes from the document she was reading.
Ronnie stopped for a moment and tried to catch her eye. She continued to concentrate on the paperwork on her desk, so he turned and left.
A taxi stopped next to him and spat out a passenger. He slid into the backseat in his stead. “Mount Sinai,” he instructed the driver, took out his phone, and dialed.
“Detective Quincy,” a firm voice was heard from the other end of the line.
“Hello, this is Ronnie Saar.”
“Hello, Mr. Saar. I’m glad you called. I promised you an update,” Quincy replied in a matter-of-fact way. “According to Verizon, only two telephone calls were erased. One call came from an unlisted number in China or Hong Kong, about the time Mr. Lumner arrived at the hotel; the other one was made by Mr. Lumner to his wife, about two thirty AM.”
“Strange that he called his wife so late at night.”
“Good point. We asked her about the call, and she admitted it was strange, but there was a power outage at her house, and the electric company repairmen were there to fix the problem, so she was awake when the call came in. She made the comment that they must have gotten there so quickly because of the late hour. Because she was busy with them, she couldn’t really speak with her husband for long. From what she can recall, all he said was that he missed her. Beyond that, nothing out of the ordinary was said between them during the conversation.”
“And the call from China? I understand you’ve reached a dead end regarding that call as well. Could you explain, please?”
“Unfortunately you are right. Someone invested a lot of work in routing that telephone conversation so its origin would remain confidential,” he replied, his frustration clearly showing. “Our experts were unable to trace the origin of the call. It could have been made from China, but it could’ve originated in the United States as well. I know it’s frustrating, but unfortunately there’s no way to determine whether the conversation was related to business matters or to the suicide. The postmortem showed the cause of death was indeed a high dose of sleeping pills. No evidence of violence was found on the body. Therefore, even though there are still a lot of unresolved questions surrounding this case, we have no choice but to close it as an unfortunate suicide.”
“OK. Thank you for your cooperation. If your conclusions change, I’d appreciate an update.”
“Of course. Have a good day, and we expect you to reciprocate.” The call was disconnected.
Ronnie tried to call Gadi again. “Please leave a brief message, and I’ll get back to you shortly,” the voicemail message promised again.
“We’re here, sir. Seventeen fifty not including tip, please.”
He handed the driver a twenty-dollar bill and made his way to the hospital through worry-filled family members and frantic medical staff.
Chapter 21
New York, October 22, 2013, 1:40 PM
“Yes, Jim,” Ronnie answered the call, ignoring the reproachful stares from the other people in the elevator.
“When you get to Mount Sinai, look for Brian Campbell, he’s our technical support guy over there. I let him know that you’re coming; he’ll try to connect you with the right people over there. I’m sending you a text message with his phone number.”
“Thanks, Jim.”
The elevator door opened, and Ronnie found himself in front of the orthopedics department’s reception desk. He dialed the number Jim had sent him and turned his head when he heard “My Way” playing nearby. “Hello, this is Ronnie Saar. I’m in front of the reception desk,” he began to say, when he noticed the Sinatra fan raising his head and searching for him. Ronnie waved his hand, disconnected the call, and approached Brian.
“Jim suggested that I wait for you here. How can I help?” Brian extended his hand hesitantly.
Ronnie responded with a brief handshake. “I’m interested in speaking with the surgeon so I can try to better understand what happened in the operation.”
“As I’ve already explained to Jim, no one here will agree to talk to you. Even though Mount Sinai received release forms from the family, the hospital’s lawyers won’t allow any staff members to speak to outside parties,” Brian explained. “Trust me, I’ve tried to fish for information and failed.”
“Where can we find the doctor who performed the operation?” Ronnie insisted.
Brian leaned over the reception desk and exchanged whispers with one of the nurses, who smiled at him fondly. He straightened up and began to walk toward the patient rooms, signaling for Ronnie to follow. “We’ll stalk Dr. Bijrani. Right now, he’s visiting a patient in room 409,” he whispered.
That doesn’t sound good… Ronnie remembered what he’d learned during his military service: Bijrani was a common last name for members of the Baloch tribes of Pakistan and Afghanistan, tribes known as Moslem fanatics. Before he was able to reply, he found himself standing in front of a man in his late forties dressed in green surgical scrubs. A name tag was d
isplayed on the right lapel of his lab coat and his face was adorned with a thick black beard, already strewn with white.
“Excuse me, Dr. Bijrani,” Brian addressed the doctor, who looked at him curiously.
“Yes, Mr. Campbell? How can I help you? If it’s about the operation again, you’re wasting your time.” The doctor turned to leave.
“Pleased to meet you.” Ronnie hurried to intervene. “My name is Ronnie Saar and I’m the chairman of TDO. I’d really appreciate a minute of your time. I understand there’re things you can’t talk about, and that’s fine. I promise to keep the conversation brief.”
“It will indeed be brief,” the bearded doctor muttered.
“Was there anything in the patient’s medical history that could explain what happened?”
The surgeon gave Ronnie a blazing stare and hissed, “When I told you I wouldn’t speak with any of you about the medical details of the deceased patient or what happened in the operation, what part of that didn’t you understand? But just so you won’t get any ridiculous conspiracy theories into your head, I can only tell you the operation was routine, and that the patient was a perfectly healthy man who had the misfortune to undergo surgery at the wrong time. You should check for the problem with your company and not at the hospital.”
“What do you mean by his ‘misfortune’?” Ronnie hurried to ask. Bijrani walked away, while turning his head and muttering, “You…you always think other people are responsible for your problems.” Then he disappeared around the corner.
“What was that all about?” Brian wrinkled his forehead.
He knows I’m Israeli, Ronnie realized but said only, “Just another person who hates the pharmaceutical industry. Excuse me a moment.” He dialed a number, listened for a moment, and then returned the telephone to his pocket with undisguised vexation.
“Who else could help us, Brian?”
“Like I told Jim, I tried to talk to the nurses, the doctors, and management. They’re all maintaining a bond of silence. Because no autopsy was performed, I believe even they don’t really know what went wrong. As far as they’re concerned, it’s better for this affair to go away and not evolve into a medical malpractice lawsuit. But, Mr. Saar, perhaps there’s another way to get answers to the questions you just asked the doctor.” Brian lowered his head.
“Which is?”
“Forgive me for saying this —” Brian stuttered when Ronnie cut him off.
“Speak. Just say what’s on your mind.”
“I suppose you’re Jewish.” Brian looked at Ronnie, and when he saw Ronnie was unresponsive continued, “As you know, Abraham Berkowitz, the deceased, came from an Orthodox Jewish family from Brooklyn. You Jews have a tradition called shiva. I suggest you take advantage of it and pay the family a visit. Here’s their address.” Brian turned to the desk, wrote something on a sheet of notepaper and handed it to Ronnie.
Ronnie put the note in his pocket and asked, “Before I leave, could you please tell me more about your involvement in the experiments so far, and whether you saw anything unusual in the last one?”
“Gladly.” Brian seemed happy to share details about his work routine with the chairman of the company. “Officially, my job is to consult with the surgeons on how to use the drug we developed at TDO — and also to be present during the operation, in case a problem arises. In practice, because we’re a small company, I was also in charge of safeguarding the medicine from the moment it arrived at the hospital to the time it was taken to the operating room.”
“Why does the medicine need to be ‘safeguarded’?”
“Because we’re at the experimental stage that’s supervised by the FDA, it’s important to track and document the location of the medicine minute by minute, from the moment it’s manufactured to the time it’s used. One can’t always plan the precise moment the medicine will be brought into the operating room, and therefore, we must make sure no third parties have a chance to interfere in the process. The medicine arrives in a sealed container, straight from TDO, and is secured in the safe. The chair of the department of orthopedic surgery has the key to the safe, and I keep the container key. I’m the only one who can open the container in the operating room, an action that breaks the seal impressed on the lock when the medicine was packaged by TDO. That’s the procedure I followed in all the operations, including the last one. There wasn’t anything unusual about the last container, and I’m willing to testify that other than the five minutes I took for a coffee break, the safe in which the container was stored was under my supervision at all times.”
“Could someone have sabotaged the container while you were away?”
“Definitely not. As I said, any attempt to mess with the lock would’ve broken the seal, which would immediately disqualify the medicine from use. Actually, the procedures do not call for me being with the medicine once it’s locked in the safe, but Christian thought one could never be too careful. Unfortunately, that didn’t help.” Ronnie saw genuine sorrow on Brian’s face when he mentioned Christian’s name.
“And you’re sure the seal was whole? Perhaps you didn’t pay attention? After all, I’m sure up till now everything has always gone smoothly, and you didn’t have any reason to be suspicious,” Ronnie persisted.
“Of course I’m sure. Furthermore, since the first clinical trial, I’ve been documenting all the processes. I thought one day the documentation would give us a nostalgic way to remember the way the company was run during its first years. I did the same this time. But only up to the moment the container was opened. After that, as you know, I was required to leave the operating room and let Dr. Bijrani perform the operation by himself.” Brian took his iPhone out of his pocket, fiddled with it a bit, then smiled when he heard a beeping sound from Ronnie’s pocket, announcing an incoming message. “I sent you a photo of the seal before I opened it,” he explained. “If you look at the image properties, you’ll be able to see the time stamp, which is the same as the time the operation started.”
“The bottle appears to be completely intact,” Ronnie muttered while enlarging the image. “Could anyone have replaced the medicine in the operating room?”
“I can’t see how. The medicine did what it was supposed to, and the patient reacted well almost until the end of the operation. His condition deteriorated only at the end of the process.”
“How do you know that?” Ronnie was surprised.
“Because of the length of the operation. At least an hour had passed from the time I left the operating room to the time the emergency medical staff rushed in.”
“I’m going to meet with the family now. Let’s hope I find something that’ll help us shed some light on this mystery. Meanwhile, try to squeeze some more information out of the nurses or the secretaries…I’ve noticed they’re quite attracted to you.” Ronnie smiled.
Brian smiled back.
Chapter 22
New York, October 22, 2013, 3:10 PM
Trying to reach you, he read the incoming message from Liah when the phone in his hand rang.
“I’m transferring David,” Evelyn said sharply, and immediately after that Ronnie heard the fund manager’s voice barking at him, “I understand that you won’t be coming back to the office today. I wanted to update you with another important TDO-related development.”
“Hold on a moment, David. I’m in a very noisy place. Let me find a spot where I’ll be able to talk to you.” Ronnie scanned the hospital lobby, trying to find a quiet spot for the conversation.
“Just call me when you can.” The call was disconnected.
Ronnie took a deep breath and shrugged with slight exasperation. He decided to give up on his plan of taking the subway to Brooklyn and flagged down a taxi. The moment he sat in the yellow cab, he called his office.
“I’m transferring you to David,” Evelyn answered after a single ring.
“You asked me whether we had an acquisition offer for the company,” David continued as if their call had never been interrupte
d, “so now we have one. When the company began to encounter financial difficulties, I started to work on an alternate plan, in case Christian wasn’t able to raise the required funds.” He stopped for a moment, allowing his last statement to sink in. “I’ve always believed the safest strategy is to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.” He’d begun to speak like a pedagogue again. “A month ago, I contacted a friend from my school days, Robert Brown, chairman of Mentor Pharmaceuticals, in an attempt to interest him in acquiring TDO. For the past two weeks, we’ve conducted countless conversations about the subject, conversations in which Christian had been actively involved as well. To be fair, I need to mention that Christian objected to the deal. He agreed to approve it only if he was certain the fund-raising was so delayed he ran the risk of running out of cash and not being able to pay the employees’ salaries. Robert, an experienced manager and quite a shark in his own right, understood Christian’s tactics and gave us a deadline for providing a final answer, after which the offer would be withdrawn. Unfortunately, the deadline expired last Friday. Therefore, when you asked me whether there was a concrete M&A offer pending, I didn’t know what to answer. This morning, I turned to Robert again and managed to convince him to renew his offer for an additional week. Robert agreed but mentioned that in light of recent developments, the price they’d be willing to pay will be lower. How much lower? I don’t know. I suggest you speak to him as early as today and try to divine his intentions. Drop everything, if you need to, and go straight to meet him. I’m a great believer in face-to-face conversations. Evelyn will send you all the details.”
Green Kills Page 11
