by Jason Dean
He tried Vallejo’s number. She picked up and said, ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Bishop,’ he said. ‘How’s it going your end?’
‘This isn’t your number.’
‘I’m borrowing someone else’s phone.’
‘Oh. Well, I think we might have something. What about you?’
‘I’ve made some progress.’
‘Uh huh. Positive news?’
He thought of the two bodies back there and said, ‘Not really. Look, you want to meet up somewhere alone?’
‘Sure. How about the park opposite the newspaper offices? I’m looking at it now and they keep it pretty well lit at night. I can wait for you at one of the picnic tables.’
‘Fine. I’ll see you there in half an hour. In the meantime, write these two phone numbers down, but keep them to yourself, okay?’ He recited them and said, ‘I’m trying to get a hold of a Michelle Gardiner, but she’s not answering. Maybe you’ll have better luck.’
‘Okay. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thanks,’ he said and hung up. Then he started the engine and began the drive back to town.
FIFTY-SIX
The drive to Olander Park took him thirty-one minutes. Along the way, he’d stopped off at East Parsons Avenue, left the Lexus and driven the rest of the way in his Buick. He parked next to a brand new BMW X5 in front of the Post building, crossed the street and entered the park. Vallejo was sitting at one of the concrete picnic tables about two hundred feet away. She watched him approach without expression. Which immediately put him on alert.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, taking a seat opposite.
She looked down at her hands. ‘How well do you know this Michelle Gardiner?’
‘Just tell me, okay?’
‘Okay. I called those numbers you gave me, and it took about twenty minutes of trying before somebody finally answered the cell phone.’
‘But not her.’
She looked at him for a moment. ‘No. It was an Officer Desmond of the New Jersey PD. After I identified myself and gave him my badge number, he told me that just over an hour ago a woman named Michelle Gardiner was the victim of a vicious hit and run about a hundred feet from her house.’
Bishop groaned. Just a couple more details to take care of. ‘Is she dead?’
‘She was still breathing when the ambulance took her off to the Somerset Hospital. But he told me there was severe internal bleeding and that it didn’t look too hopeful. I’m sorry, Bishop.’ She paused, then asked, ‘I take it she’s Selina’s mother?’
He nodded and leaned forward on the table, massaging his forehead. ‘Stupid, unthinking asshole. As soon as you told me about how they offed Sam’s family, I should have warned her to lie low. Stay at a friend’s or something. But I was so sure I’d concealed every last vestige of Selina’s old identity that I figured she’d be safe. But they found out somehow and decided to tie up another loose end. If she dies, it’ll be my fault.’
Vallejo snorted. ‘Well, that’s obvious. I mean, how could you not anticipate the bad guy’s every single move ahead of time and act accordingly? Jeez, what an idiot.’
‘Okay, okay.’ He gave a sigh and said, ‘I finally met up with that man in the footage. The one with the goatee.’
‘You mean Abraham?’
Bishop looked at her. ‘Kate recognized him then?’ When she nodded, Bishop pulled the driver’s licence from his pocket and passed it over. ‘This belonged to him.’
She stared at the licence for a moment, then said, ‘Belonged?’
Bishop nodded. ‘Past tense. He took me out to a remote spot where events didn’t quite go the way he planned. But before he died, he told me where he’d buried a previous victim of his, so I decided to check for myself.’ He paused. ‘I found a female body. I can’t be sure, but I think it was Sam. Both upper wisdom teeth were missing. So was the lower left. I’m sorry, Vallejo.’
Vallejo stared at a spot past Bishop’s shoulder and visibly slumped in the seat. She placed her elbows on the table and brought her hands to her face. She stayed like that for a while, her shoulders shaking just a little. Bishop watched her. He saw no point in mentioning that from the state of decomposition Sam had probably been there for at least a month. Or that she looked to have died from a broken neck. That kind of information could wait.
Eventually, she took her hands away and carefully wiped her eyes. ‘I kind of half suspected it,’ she said, ‘so it shouldn’t really come as a surprise. But it does. You know, Bishop, I think maybe I did love her.’
Bishop said nothing. There was nothing to say.
She took a long deep breath. Neither of them spoke for a minute or two. Then her eyes turned steely and she said, ‘It was self-defence. Abraham’s death.’
‘It was, actually. Not that that would have stopped me. As far as I was concerned, that guy had already lived far too long.’
Vallejo looked at him, gave him a single nod. She was silent for a few more moments. Then she took a long breath and said, ‘Okay, tell me the rest.’
Bishop quickly summarized his conversations with Tatem and Abraham. When he’d finished, Vallejo rubbed her neck and said, ‘So we’re still pretty much in the dark.’
‘Well, we know a little more than we did. Those small insertion scars Tatem saw on the women’s abdomens, for example. That’s definitely something I need to check into.’
‘Why, what are you thinking?’
‘Tatem mentioned a doctor from New York who, before he died, said he’d possibly found a way to successfully transplant ovaries from donors who weren’t related to the recipient. I’d like to know more about him. Especially the cause of death.’
‘Ovaries? Is that what you think this is about? Human organ trafficking?’
Bishop paused. It was a good question. What did he think? His gut was telling him this was likely to be about something far older and far simpler than organ trafficking. And he’d learned to trust his instincts a long time ago. But he also couldn’t afford to ignore possible leads just because they didn’t fit in with his thinking. All avenues had to followed, regardless of where they might take him, if only to allow him to ultimately cross them off the list. And this idea about ovaries fit into that category. For the moment, though, he’d keep his gut feelings to himself. Too distracting otherwise. After all, you could only concentrate on one thing at any time. If the only available leads pointed to a single tree, he needed to shake that tree and see what fell out. If all he got were dead leaves, then he’d move on the next tree.
‘I don’t really know,’ he said truthfully. ‘It’s all guesswork at this stage, but Abraham did say he was part of a small, highly specialized organization who supply a gap in the market. And there are already ways to pick up most body parts in this world if you know where to look. But from what I gather, there’s no way for an infertile woman to get working ovaries unless she’s got an identical twin sister. Which means if these people have somehow found a way to successfully transplant something that has been almost impossible up till now, then they can pretty much name their price. Somewhere north of the seven figure range, possibly. I mean, there must be a lot of very wealthy women around who can’t have babies because of ovarian failure, and would be more than willing to pay well over the odds to change the situation.’
Vallejo shifted in her seat. ‘Maybe. But it kind of means that doctor Tatem mentioned would have to still be alive, doesn’t it?’
‘Not necessarily. Doctors leave notes. That’s why I need to find out more about the circumstances of his death.’
‘Okay, so where does the plastic surgery fit in?’
Bishop shrugged. ‘What if they brought Tatem in simply to provide cover while they perform tests on the women and make sure they’re compatible? He did tell me none of the instructions he’d been given were particularly complex. Just some touching up here and there. But it’s his name that gets logged as the consulting physician, so everything’s easily explained if the law comes arou
nd and starts asking awkward questions. Whatever’s going on, we’re talking serious money here, so three hundred grand a year to cover their backs would be chicken feed.’
‘You’ve really given this some thought, haven’t you?’
‘Not much else to do when you’re digging holes.’
Vallejo ran a finger across her eyebrow. ‘So what do you think is happening? Any ideas?’
‘Some. How about this one? A wealthy woman with non-functioning ovaries, or maybe even the husband or boyfriend, calls these people and puts in an order for a transplant, whereupon Abraham’s group set about locating a suitable donor. Somebody young and healthy with certain attributes that are required for success. They’re probably able to hack into a variety of medical databases in order to narrow the search. Then, once they find the girl who fits the criteria best, they can start making plans.’
‘To arrange her accidental “death”, you mean? Along with the real deaths of her closest family?’
‘Right. Probably by house fire like with Sam’s family, since they need the bodies burnt beyond recognition. But the main thing is they don’t want anybody around asking questions. My guess is they had problems in the past from close family members and figured it’s more economical to snuff out potential complications right from the off. These are some bad, bad people, Vallejo. With potential millions at stake, who knows how many people they’ve killed already, purely as a safeguard?’
Vallejo closed her eyes. ‘But wait a minute. What about the fake bodies they use as replacements for the kidnapped women? Where the hell would they get them?’
‘Hospital morgues. That’s where I’d go. Either on a case by case basis, or maybe they’ve got a stock of Jane Does stored away in a special freezer. I wouldn’t put that past them.’
Vallejo nodded slowly to herself, scrunching her brows together. ‘Okay. So then what? They bring the girl into hospital, right? One with all the necessary equipment for making the appropriate tests. Like the one at Garrick. Then once she’s given the okay, they’d have to transport her to their main headquarters and do the real work there, wouldn’t they? I mean, there’s no way they could keep a major operation like that quiet for very long. Not in a working hospital.’
‘That’s right,’ Bishop said, and motioned for Vallejo to continue. He was interested in seeing how closely her thought processes matched his. So far, she was doing fine.
Still frowning, she said, ‘Which means they’ve built their own specialist surgery somewhere else. Maybe in a warehouse. But definitely somewhere far away from prying eyes.’ She paused for a few moments, thinking it through. ‘Plus there’s the time element to consider. They’d want to keep the donors around for a while in case they needed them again for follow-up surgery. Like if the first ovary doesn’t take and they have to extract the second one and try that.’
‘They’d also need to wait around for the client to get pregnant, as well,’ Bishop said. ‘That would be the only surefire way to know the transplant was fully successful. After that, they could dispose of the donor.’
‘You mean kill them?’
‘That’s what I mean. That area where they buried Sam sure looks like it could contain a lot more bodies than just hers.’
‘Christ.’ Vallejo puffed her cheeks and blew air out. ‘But what about the physical similarities between Sam and Selina? What does that mean?’
‘Well, you admitted yourself that they weren’t that alike on second glance. But they do conform to a type. Both were pretty, healthy and young.’ Bishop paused. ‘There are still huge holes in the theory, though. For instance, why go all the way to Corvallis for Sam? What was so special about her? I don’t know enough about organ transplant surgery, but maybe if she had an unusual blood type or something. Something that automatically put her to the top of the list . . .’
Bishop stopped when he noticed Vallejo looking at him strangely. ‘What?’
‘Sam was AB rhesus negative,’ she said. ‘I saw her blood donor card once. She said it’s really rare and found in less than one per cent of the population.’
Bishop narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s a possibility. Maybe the buyer’s part of that small percentage, too. Maybe sharing the same blood type is essential for a successful transplant. But it still doesn’t explain why Selina was taken. I gave her a new identity with no medical history, so how could they know her blood type?’
‘Maybe she had something else that marked her out from everybody else.’
‘Yeah. That’s still a lot of maybes, though. About the only thing I do know right now is I’ve got until around midnight tomorrow to find her. Abraham told me that much. That’s less than thirty hours away.’
‘What’s supposed to happen then?’
‘I don’t know, but it won’t be anything good. Maybe they’re expecting some news that means that Selina’s outlived her usefulness. But the clock’s ticking and I need to start making some headway.’ Bishop paused again, thinking how to phrase the next part. ‘Look, Vallejo, I have to tell you that when I meet up with these people I won’t be making too many citizen’s arrests. You understand what I’m saying?’
Vallejo chewed on her cheek. ‘Wouldn’t you need a gun?’
Bishop just looked at her.
‘Or don’t I need to concern myself about that?’
Bishop remained silent.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘I get the message. So why are you telling me this?’
‘To give you a choice on whether to stay with this, or go back to the life you had before you met me. I’d recommend the second one. Sam’s gone, the man who killed her is dead, and you’re still a cop. And even suspended cops have to abide by a set of rules.’
‘And you don’t?’
‘I live by certain rules. Just not the same ones.’ He showed his palms and said, ‘You don’t have to make a decision now, I’m just laying it out for you.’
She shook her head. ‘If that’s your subtle attempt to get rid of me, it’s not working. I’m in. All the way.’
Bishop nodded. ‘Fair enough. Okay, now tell me what you found out today.’
‘I think we might have discovered who’s running the show,’ she said.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Vallejo said it would be better if she let Kate explain the rest, so Bishop followed her back inside to the newsroom. The place was empty now, although most of the lights were still on. Bishop noticed Kate’s corner desk was also unoccupied. He looked round and saw one of the private offices on the left also had its lights on. Through the frosted glass of the door, Bishop could see the shapes of two figures within.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘The owner, Stan Neeson, arrived just as I was going out to meet you. Kate says they always meet on Saturday evening to plan for the week ahead. She said it wouldn’t take long.’
‘Okay.’ Bishop turned and noticed a water cooler close by. He went over and poured himself a cup. Drank it and refilled it. He was pulling it out from the machine for the third time when the office door opened and Kate and her boss came out.
Neeson looked to be on either side of sixty. ‘Urbane’ was a good word to describe him. Grey-haired, he had a healthy, tanned complexion and wore glasses, a pastel-coloured polo shirt and pressed tan chinos. Bishop guessed he was the owner of the BMW outside.
They both saw Bishop at the same time. Kate smiled while Neeson said, ‘You must be the man I’ve been hearing about. Bishop, yes?’
Bishop walked over and shook the hand Neeson held out. ‘I’m Bishop. I don’t know what you’ve heard, though.’
‘Just what Katie’s told me. As the publisher of a small local newspaper, you can probably imagine how fascinating I’m finding all this.’
Bishop looked at Kate. ‘She’s told you everything already? I’m not sure I like that.’
‘Don’t worry, Katie just asked for my learned opinion and I gave it to her. She and I have trusted each other’s judgement for a long time, haven’t we, Katie?’
>
Kate nodded. Bishop said, ‘And what was your opinion on this?’
‘That she continues helping you out, like she promised. And that we get to print the eventual story that comes from it, like you promised. I know she’s been aching to move to a bigger newspaper for a while, and a big, exclusive story could be a perfect calling card for her. I’d be sorry to see her go, but I’m not about to stand in her way.’
‘Thanks, Stan,’ Kate said, sitting down at her desk.
Neeson smiled and found a seat nearby. ‘And it would sell papers, of course. I know people around here are convinced the Post’s not much more than a hobby for me, but I’m actually serious about this. A rise in circulation’s always welcome, even a temporary one.’
Vallejo sat, while Bishop stood next to the window. He drank half of his water and looked at Kate. He’d been very patient so far. He said, ‘So I hear you got a name for me.’
‘Where’s the rest of the footage Clarissa showed me?’ Kate asked.
‘Damaged by fire. That’s all we managed to save.’
Kate looked at Vallejo. ‘Funny, that’s what she said. I’m not sure I believe it.’
‘You surprise me.’
‘I’m pretty sure I recognized that street, though. I’d put money on that being Bannings’ front courtyard.’
‘That’s wasted on me,’ Bishop said. ‘I don’t gamble. You remember me asking about the name?’
Kate smiled. ‘Okay. Did you happen to notice the name of the park across the street?’
‘Sure,’ Bishop said, ‘Olander Park.’
‘Named after our very own Grant Olander, current chairman of the Saracen Chamber of Commerce. I think it’s very possible he’s involved in whatever’s going on.’ She leaned forward, tapping her fingernails on the desk. ‘Which is what, by the way? I know you like to keep things close to your chest, but at least give me something.’
Bishop looked at Vallejo. Vallejo arched her eyebrows at him.
Why not indeed? thought Bishop. After all, it’s still only a theory at this stage.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Now I’m only guessing here, but I think we could be dealing with a group that specializes in illegal organ transplants for the rich.’
