Critical

by Robin Cook

Brennan didn’t answer. Instead, he was easing the tracking device out of the box’s foam interior.

  “Hey!” Carlo demanded. He didn’t like to be ignored. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Sort of,” Brennan admitted. He looked into the depths of the molded foam packing material.

  “I’m talking about the rain and the marina. I asked you if you agreed it was to our advantage it was raining.”

  Brennan at last found what he was looking for. It was a packet containing an operating directions booklet but, more important, an online registration code.

  “Well?” Carlo questioned with irritation.

  Brennan next used his penknife on the packaging for the device itself, but before he could free it from its cellophane mummification, his head snapped forward from an openhanded blow from Carlo.

  “What the hell!” Brennan yelled. He turned and glared at Carlo. “What did you hit me for?” he growled.

  “I was talking to you,” Carlo yelled back. “You were ignoring me. I don’t like to be ignored. It pisses me off.”

  Brennan stared at Carlo. He was in a momentary rage. Luckily, he controlled himself, since Carlo was behind the wheel and they were hurtling down Lexington Avenue in a clot of traffic. Carlo might have been bigger and older, but he sure as hell wasn’t wiser. In fact, he was somewhat of a lunkhead, and it was that realization that enabled Brennan to calm down a degree.

  “Don’t hit me ever again,” Brennan voiced slowly, emphasizing each syllable.

  “Then don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you,” Carlo snapped back.

  Brennan rolled his eyes, shook his head, and went back to the operating instructions. He was pretty sure how the tracking device worked, but he wanted to read up on registering it for the real-time online services.

  “I’m sorry I hit you,” Carlo said after a few blocks. “Being ignored is a pet peeve of mine.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Brennan said.

  They drove in silence for a while, to Brennan’s relief. He finished reading how to register the device and then skimmed over the operating directions. Armed with all that information, he got his laptop from the rear seat and his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Once the laptop was booted up, he called the company. Not only did he want to register, he wanted to make sure that if the device was lost, it could not be traced back to him. Apparently, it was not an unusual request, because the service individual was able to oblige with ease.

  “How long will it take to be online?” Brennan asked.

  “Since I just got an okay on your credit card, I’m doing it as we speak.”

  Brennan thanked the man. Next, he opened the back of the device and inserted the four triple-A Copper Tops he’d bought as well. Going back to the company’s website, he clicked on the position icon, then added the password and user name he’d just gotten. With another click, he got an hourglass, and a few seconds later, a query appeared asking him to select the size of the area he wanted to display. Brennan clicked 5 miles by 2.8 miles. A second later, there was a small blinking dot moving slowly along Lexington Avenue.

  Turning the laptop screen in Carlo’s direction, he said, “It works. It shows us heading south.”

  “Impressive,” Carlo said. “How does it work?”

  “It would take too long to explain,” Brennan said. “But in essence, it’s simple triangulation using satellite signals.”

  “That’s enough,” Carlo said. His lack of knowledge of current electronic devices made him feel inadequate.

  As usual, the traffic was bad going across town, and the rain, as light as it was, made it worse. The driving was stop-and-go the whole way.

  Carlo’s cell phone startled both of them. With a bit of a struggle, Carlo got it out and checked the caller ID. Satisfied, he accepted the call, put it on speakerphone, and nestled the phone into a cubby on the center console.

  “What’s up?” Carlo questioned

  “Nothing,” Arthur MacEwan said in his high-pitched, shrill voice that drove everybody nuts. “Absolutely nothing. We’ve been here for over two hours, and Franco Ponti’s hog of a car hasn’t moved an inch.”

  Arthur MacEwan and Ted Polowski were parked in the back of Johnny’s parking lot and had been there staking out Franco’s car since before eight that morning.

  “Have you seen the Hawk?”

  “Nope. No sign of Franco. We did see Vinnie Dominick when he arrived with Freddie Capuso and Richie Herns. They’ve been inside the Neapolitan and have yet to reappear.”

  “How about scarface?”

  “Haven’t seen Angelo, either. We’re getting tired of sitting here, and I’m wondering if it’s a good idea. What if they spot us?”

  “You’ve got a point, but you heard Louie this morning. He went nuts about them knocking off that girl last night after the hit the night before. Franco and Angelo are probably sleeping off their shenanigans. He wants them followed because he’s trying to figure out what’s going on, and if they do it again, he’s going to let that detective know it’s a Lucia problem and has nothing to do with the Vaccarros.”

  “Holy shit,” Arthur said suddenly. Then he lowered his voice. “A blue van pulled up a second ago that says Sonny’s Plumbing Supply, and Angelo just got out. And there’s Franco, too. They’re going into the Neapolitan.”

  “At least you found them,” Carlo said. “Now keep track of them. And concerning your worry about being spotted: Make sure you eat a sandwich or something to justify sitting there.”

  “Okay,” Arthur said, without much enthusiasm.

  Once Carlo and Brennan got into the tunnel, the traffic lightened up considerably. They made good time to the marina in Hoboken. Although there were a number of cars in the parking lot, thanks to the rain that had continued, there was no one on the pier.

  Carlo parked close to the water’s edge and a good distance from the marina’s sole building, where all the other cars were. Wasting no time, they stepped from the car and hustled out the pier. They stopped at the stern of Full Speed Ahead.

  “I’ll watch while you find a place to hide the device,” Carlo said. He looked back toward the building. Not a soul had appeared.

  Brennan crossed the gangplank and immediately began to search for an appropriate cranny. He found one at the very stern under some attached bait containers. With his hand, he inserted the tracking device as far back into the nook as he could. There was even a hidden lip that would keep the device from sliding out. A few moments later, he was back on the pier, and the two men started back to the car.

  “Did you see anyone?” Brennan asked.

  “Not a soul. How’d you make out?”

  “I found a perfect spot.”

  Back in the car, Brennan brought his laptop out of sleep mode and went through the process of logging on again. When it was appropriate, he clicked the position icon as he’d done earlier and then the scale. Within seconds, there was a stylized representation of the area, even including the pier where Full Speed Ahead was moored. A blinking red dot was exactly where it was supposed to be.

  Brennan moved the laptop into Carlo’s lap.

  “Pretty nifty, wouldn’t you say?” Brennan offered.

  Carlo nodded. He was impressed but also intimidated by Brennan’s expertise.

  “I’M NOT SURPRISED we didn’t get her this morning,” Franco said. “Snatching this medical examiner lady is not going to be easy. The area around the medical examiner’s office is a busy place, with Bellevue on one side and NYU Medical Center on the other side.”

  “The problem was the damn protest,” Angelo butted in. “If it hadn’t been for all those Hispanics carrying on, we would have had an opportunity. Hell, she and her boyfriend, who was on crutches, walked in front of our van.”

  “You’re making it sound too easy,” Franco said. “First of all, there was an SUV in front of us. Second of all, there were two of them and only two of us. What are you thinking? There’s no way we could muscle the two of them into the van withou
t causing a major scene. I say we should just shoot her from a distance and walk away.”

  “No!” Angelo blurted. “I want to snatch her. That’s the only way to be sure the job gets done, and I want to make sure.”

  “Paul Yang and Amy Lucas were both a piece of cake,” Franco said. “They were unsuspecting and easy to lure. But this Montgomery chick is in a totally different ballpark. There’s no way we are going to be able to talk her into getting into the van peacefully, and that assumes we can even get her by herself. With her boyfriend on crutches, she’ll be helping him. I say we shoot her and be done with it. As a medical examiner, I’m sure there’s a dozen people who wouldn’t mind seeing her put away.”

  “What’s the plan?” Vinnie asked Angelo in his most serene tone. For those who knew him, it was a sign that he was major-league perturbed.

  Franco, Angelo, Freddie, and Richie were all sitting in one of the Neapolitan booths, talking with Vinnie Dominick. Espresso cups, overflowing ashtrays, and a platter of cannoli cluttered the tabletop.

  “I agree with Franco, it’s a challenge,” Angelo said. “Unfortunately, she moved out of her digs on Nineteenth Street, which would have otherwise made it a breeze. We may be forced to find out where she lives, but for now I think we should continue to try at the medical examiner’s office. Franco’s also right about needing more bodies, especially if we have to deal with the boyfriend, something I wouldn’t mind doing. And we need another van.”

  “Why another van?” Vinnie questioned.

  “For backup. If the snatch goes bad, we have an alternate getaway vehicle.”

  Vinnie nodded while staring at Angelo. Everyone stayed quiet while Vinnie ruminated.

  “I want to be sure about this, too,” Vinnie said finally. “In the past, it seems as if she has had nine lives, and with two hospitals right in the same area, a shot would have to be damn good. It would be just our luck if we got her good and they saved her. Snatch her and get rid of her once and for all! As far as another van goes, we’ve got more than we need. Are you going back to the OCME at lunchtime? We can’t wait around for a week for this to go down, you know what I’m saying.”

  “We are aware,” Angelo said. He was relieved Vinnie didn’t jump at the easy way out. The more Angelo thought about it, the more intent he was on a slow demise for Dr. Laurie Montgomery.

  “Are you okay with this?” Vinnie asked Franco.

  “It has its merits,” Franco said grudgingly. “But I’m worried about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “In all due respect, Angelo is a bit too juiced up over this job. This morning, after we left the stakeout, we had to stop at Home Depot for a big bucket and a couple of bags of quick-set. I get nervous when there’s this degree of emotion. I mean, he’s thinking about this purely as payback, not a job. When emotions are involved like this, mistakes happen. People don’t think right.”

  A wry smile appeared on Vinnie’s face as he turned to Angelo. Clearly, he did not disapprove of Angelo’s vengeful plans. At the same time, Vinnie knew Franco was right.

  “So you want Laurie Montgomery to stew for a while before you drop her in the drink?”

  “Something like that,” Angelo admitted.

  “What about Franco’s point about mistakes can be made if emotions are involved and you’re too eager?”

  “I’ll keep it in mind, and tone myself down.”

  Vinnie switched his attention to Franco. “Satisfied?” he questioned.

  Franco nodded. “If he listens to me.”

  Vinnie nodded as well and looked back at Angelo. “You two are a team. Talk to each other! Don’t take chances! Be cool!”

  Angelo nodded.

  “Okay,” Vinnie said. “It’s decided. Freddie and Richie, get another van. Keep in touch with each other and keep me informed.”

  “Right!” the men said in unison as they slipped out of the booth.

  After the men had left, Vinnie had Paolo Salvato make him yet another espresso. As Vinnie sat in the silent, empty restaurant, he thought of Angelo’s plans for Laurie Montgomery. It was perfect, and he fantasized about being there himself. After all the troubles she’d caused him, he’d wanted to whack her when he’d been released from prison, but he hadn’t because Lou Soldano had specifically warned him that if something were to happen to Laurie, he’d personally come after Vinnie, suspecting the worst. But now, ten years later, Vinnie was confident that enough time had elapsed.

  20

  APRIL 4, 2007

  11:44 A.M.

  Laurie hurried out of the autopsy room after completing her final postmortem for the day. She was anxious about the time, since the final two cases had taken longer than she’d expected, and she was desperate to get back to the MRSA mystery. She was also anxious about not knowing what else to do. She’d put a lot of stock in what she thought she might learn from the CDC, and although she sensed it was important to have learned that the three cases that had been extensively subtyped were all the exact same bacterium, she didn’t quite know what to make of it. She’d also hoped that Silvia, a recognized MRSA expert, would have come up with some ideas and suggestions, but she hadn’t.

  As Laurie removed her Tyvek coverall, she stopped for a minute and looked at her hands. They were shaking, as if she’d had twenty cups of coffee. Preoccupied as to what she should do next, Laurie ducked into the locker room to change back into her clothes.

  “Are you just finishing now?” Riva asked as Laurie appeared.

  “I’m afraid so,” Laurie said, spinning the combination lock on her locker.

  “I thought I’d assigned you cases that would have been quick. Sorry.”

  “Maybe I should have been able to do them quicker, but I felt the medical condition should be carefully documented. Both can be teaching cases.”

  “Really! Why?”

  “The first one, the death at the dentist’s office, turned out to be preventable, which is why it would be a good teaching case, particularly for primary-care and emergency-care physicians. The patient was reported by a family member to have had syncopal attacks involving palpitations, flushing, and diaphoresis, but it was never investigated.”

  “Hyperthyroidism,” Riva said.

  “You are exactly right,” Laurie said. “It was not an allergic reaction as was suspected. The thyroid gland and the thymus gland were both diffusely enlarged, as were the heart and the spleen. That was why her blood pressure was so high in the emergency room.”

  “What about the second case?” Riva asked. “The stationary bike rider.”

  “That was also interesting. I thought I was going to find atheromatous coronary heart disease, but I didn’t.”

  “That was what I suspected as well. I’m glad I put it in the pile to be autopsied.”

  “Everything was normal with the heart and the coronary arteries.”

  “Really?” Riva questioned with surprise.

  “Except for one thing,” Laurie said. “The right coronary artery had an exceptionally acute angle takeoff. Suddenly, something the patient had unfortunately done while riding the bike cut off flow to the artery.”

  “I’ve heard of that but have never seen it,” Riva said.

  “Which is why I thought it too would be a good teaching case. I carefully dissected the area free and will have it preserved.”

  In contrast to Riva, who was taking a break between cases, Laurie had continued changing from scrubs to her clothes during the conversation. When she was finished, she slammed her locker closed, spun the combination lock, and waved to her office mate.

  “I’ll see you upstairs,” Riva called after her.

  Not willing to take the time for lunch, Laurie went to the front elevator and rode directly up to the fifth floor. Before retreating to her office, she went into the histology lab to see if her pulmonary slides were available on David Jeffries. She had little hope they would add anything significant at this point. She felt obliged to get the slides, since she’d specificall
y asked Maureen O’Connor to put a rush on them.

  “You are eager,” Maureen said in her colorful Irish accent when she caught sight of Laurie. “When I said I’d have them today, I didn’t say I’d have them this morning.”

  “I hate to be a pest,” Laurie said. “I’ll be in my office.”

  “I’ll have someone run them down when they’re ready.”

  Laurie hastened down the hall. After sitting at her desk, she surveyed the jumble of case files and hospital records, with the matrix front and center. She picked up the matrix. It was far from complete. Glancing back to the pile of cases, she felt a drain on her enthusiasm and optimism. Transferring the information took longer than she expected, yet it seemed as if the matrix was the only hope she had of understanding what was going on with the Angels Healthcare hospitals.

  As Laurie was about to start, she remembered she did not have Ramona’s hospital record, as well as a few others. Picking up her phone, she called down to the PA’s office. When Bart Arnold, the chief PA, answered, she asked to speak with Cheryl.

  “What can I do for you?” Cheryl asked when she came on the line.

  “I left word with Janice earlier this morning I needed a hospital chart on Ramona Torres.”

  “I got the message and put in the call. They promised me they’d send it with the others. I’d be surprised if it wasn’t already in your e-mail.”

  “Hang on,” Laurie said. Quickly, she opened her e-mail. As Cheryl suggested, the missing hospital records were there waiting for her.

  “Sorry,” Laurie said. “You’re right. They are all here.”

  After hanging up with Cheryl, Laurie put the large file in the printing queue and then headed down to the first floor to pick up her printouts.

  ADAM HAD HAD a pleasant morning. After his second cup of coffee that morning back at the hotel, he’d made his way to the Metropolitan Museum. As one of the first people through its imposing front entrance, he’d felt as though he had the place to himself. He didn’t try to cover too much, but viewed objects he’d appreciated in his youth, including Athenian red figure vases, several classical Greek statues, and the old masters exhibits.