DEAD on ARRIVAL
Angie Bartoni
Case File # 14
By MW Huffman
OTHER BOOKS BY MW HUFFMAN
THE END–BOOK I of The Event Series
THE BEGINNING–BOOK II of The Event Series
THE REVELATION–BOOK III of The Event Series
The Second Civil War–BOOK I-A Nation Divided
The Second Civil War–Book II-A Nation at War
The Second Civil War–Book III–A Nation Healing
Project BlueBolt – BOOK I – American Gulags
Project BlueBolt – BOOK II - The Gulag Journal
Project BlueBolt – BOOK III – American Uprising
REVOLUTION
THE BRINK
CLOSE PROXIMITY
BLACKSTAR
CHIMERA
WORLDS END
SUN BURST
Sins of the Fathers
The Unfinished
Angie Bartoni Case File # 1 - The Alphabet Murders
Angie Bartoni Case File # 2 - Frost Bite
Angie Bartoni Case File # 3 - Dead Aim
Angie Bartoni Case File # 4 - What Goes Around
Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 - Nothing to Lose
Angie Bartoni Case File # 6 - Shadow Man
Angie Bartoni Case File # 7 – The Club
Angie Bartoni Case File # 8 – Shakespeare Murders
Angie Bartoni Case File # 9 – One Too Many
Angie Bartoni Case File #10 – Weak Link
Angie Bartoni Case File #11 – Vanishing Act
Angie Bartoni Case File #12 – Victim’s Advocate
Angie Bartoni Case File #13 – Payback
Angie Bartoni Case File #14 – Dead on Arrival
The Logan Files - Blond Deception
The Logan Files - Innocence and Avarice
The Logan Files - The Deal Breaker
The Logan Files – Pain Center
Norris Files – Insurrection
Norris Files - Silver2
CHAPTER ONE
Dr. Wittman knew something was terribly wrong. It was all he could do to keep from throwing up. He sat on the edge of the bed holding his head. This wasn’t like him; he was hardly ever sick. Yes, he had a few drinks last night but nothing that could cause this.
Last night had been one of celebration. He had been named the CEO of the Nemein Pharmaceutical and Research Company. It was one of the most prestigious Pharmaceutical companies in the world. They had laboratories in fifteen different countries worldwide.
The World Headquarters was located in Indianapolis, Indiana. The same place Lily has their corporate headquarters. Now, after thirty one years, Dr. Bryan Wittman had made it to the top rung of his professional career.
He finally stood up but a wave of nausea immediately rushed over him. He broke out in sweat and his vision became blurred. He needed to get to the toilet, so despite his nausea he stumbled to the bathroom.
He had no more made it than he knew he was in serious shape. This was more than just a normal sickness. Something was horribly wrong. He sat on the toilet for a long time and finally reached over and tuned on the sink and wet a washcloth. He placed it around his neck trying to relax while the next wave of nausea passed over him.
On top of the nausea, he was developing a splitting headache. What the hell is wrong with me? he wondered, feeling worse every minute. This should be the happiest day of my life and here I am sick as a dog. He finally managed to stand and using the wall for support, made his way back to the bedroom. He lay back down on the bed, hoping against hope that this illness would just go away.
He tried to remember everything he had eaten. Maybe this was food poisoning from something he ate last night. What did he have? A New York Strip steak, twice baked potato, and some kind of cake for dessert at the banquet to announce his taking the reins of Nemein. Probably fifty percent of the people had eaten the same thing. He immediately wondered if others were sick.
He fumbled around and found his cell phone and dialed his office.
“Nemein Pharmaceutical and Research Company, how may I direct your call?” a pleasant voice asked.
“This is Doctor Wittman. I need to speak to Carol.”
“Oh, yes sir. Right away sir. And congratulations once again. It was a lovely party last night.”
“Wait. Let me ask you a question.”
“Anything sir.”
“What did you have to eat last night?”
“Uh, the steak, baked potato and the vegetable medley. It was absolutely wonderful.”
“Have any of our people called in sick this morning?”
“Not that I have talked to. A couple came in looking like they might have had a couple too many but no one seemed sick.”
“Alright, thank you. I’ll talk to Carol now.”
“Yes sir,” she said and called his office.
“Dr. Wittman’s Office.”
“Hi Carol, it me.”
“Oh. They should have told me it was you calling.”
“It’s okay. Listen I just wanted to ask you if you had the New York Strip last night?”
“No, I had the Salmon but my husband did. He talked about it all the way home. He said it was absolutely one of the best he has ever had.”
“And how was Jerry this morning?”
“How was he? Fine. He jumped right up and went to work. Is there a problem Dr. Wittman?”
“I don’t know. I am feeling a little under the weather this morning and thought it might have been something I ate,” he told her.
“Well you know how that is. It could have been something you ate earlier in the day or even the day before.”
“Yes, yes, well I just thought it would be bad form to poison our guests last night.”
“I doubt there was any chance of that. The food was absolutely outstanding,” she said.
“Alright Carol. Thank you. I’ll be in shortly. I’m sure this will pass,” he told her.
“You’re the boss. No one questions the head honcho,” she chuckled.
“I need to set a good example. I’ll be there soon,” he said and hung up.
It was a good thing he did because he had to rush as quickly as he could to the bathroom to vomit. He felt like his insides were being torn out. When he was finally finished, he splashed cold water on his face and looked in the mirror.
His face was flushed and he could tell he was running a fever. He kept splashing water on his face until he felt like he could get through the day. He slowly walked back to the bedroom and got dressed.
Black pinstriped suit, white shirt with his initials on the pocket, a red silk power tie and wingtips and he was read to go. He called for his car, grabbed his briefcase and walked to the foyer. The black Mercedes pulled into the drive and the chauffeur opened the door for him.
He climbed in the back seat and laid his head back. This was not at all what he had imagined his first day as the CEO would be like. The driver looked in the rearview mirror and frowned.
“Sir, are you alright?”
“Just not feeling quite up to par.”
“I don’t mean to be impertinent sir but your face is quite flushed.”
“I appreciate your concern but I’ll be fine.”
“Yes sir,” he said and went back to concentrating on his driving.
When they got to the company headquarters, the chauffeur got out and opened the door for the doctor.
“Sir?” he said when the doctor just stayed in the car with his head back.
“Yes? Oh, are we here?”
>
“Yes sir.”
“Ah,” was all he said as he got out.
“Don’t forget your briefcase sir.”
“Briefcase? Yes,” he said and took it from the chauffeur.
“Sir, do you need help?”
“No. I’m just a little dizzy. I’ll be fine,” he said as he headed for the door.
The chauffeur watched to see that he made it alright and shook his head. Something was definitely not right.
Wittman entered between the sliding doors and headed toward the elevator. He almost always exchanged pleasantries with the information staff in the center kiosk but today he just walked by.
“I guess now that he is the CEO he doesn’t feel he needs to talk to the peons any longer,” one of them said.
“I don’t think it was that. He said he wasn’t feeling well,” the other girl chimed in.
“Still. A hello wouldn’t have hurt him.”
Wittman was fighting nausea as he rode up in the elevator. It was all he could do to keep from throwing up. As soon as the elevator stopped he pushed through his office door.
“Doctor Wittman…doctor. Oh my. Doctor you are beet red in the face. Are you alright sir?”
“I don’t know Carol. Something is wrong but I don’t know what.”
“Let me help you,” she said taking his briefcase and opening the inner door to his expansive office.
She led him over to the couch and he practically dropped down and laid his head back. She rushed into his private bathroom and got a cold damp cloth. She went to the small refrigerator and got out a hand full of ice cubes, put them in the cloth, and brought it over to him.
He was just looking up at the ceiling, unmoving.
“Doctor.”
“Umm.”
“Here,” she said placing the cold rag on his forehead, “I think I should call Doctor Miller and have him come up.”
“I’m sure he is busy with his own problems,”
“Sir, you are not just a little sick. Something is seriously wrong. Please let me call him.”
“Alright Carol but don’t make him drop everything to run up here.”
“I won’t,” she said and scurried off.
***
Doctor Wittman was five-eleven, pushing two hundred pounds and still in good physical condition for a man who would be sixty-four next month. He led an active life and still liked to scuba dive, take part in rifle matches, and swim. Most of his hair was gray now but he was still attractive with a strong chin and nice smile. His wife had passed away two years ago and he was sad that she couldn’t be there to see his crowning achievement, one that she had certainly helped him achieve.
He had gotten to the top by hard work, dedication, and treating people with respect. He did not micro-manage those under his authority. He picked the best people he could find and let them do it their way as long as they got the desired results.
His team had been responsible for several breakthrough medicines to help in the area of psychiatric care. All had passed the FDA with flying colors and to date there had been no repercussions that had ended in legal battles. That was a rare feat in today’s world.
Wittman hadn’t moved when Doctor Miller came into the office. He took one look at him and was immediately alarmed.
“Carl, what in the world?”
“I know. I look like heck.”
“I’ll say. Food poisoning?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about what I’ve eaten the last few days and I can’t think of anything that would potentially cause this.”
“Undercooked hamburger?”
“Carl, when is the last time you’ve known me to eat a hamburger?”
“Just thinking out loud. A salad bar at a restaurant?” Miller asked.
“Just the one we had with dinner last night. I forgot all about that.”
“I doubt that was it. Just about everyone there ate the salad. By the way, the food was fantastic.”
“So I’ve been told. Any ideas?”
“Symptoms?” Miller asked.
“Headache, nausea, diarrhea, and projectile vomiting,” Wittman told him.
“Any blood?”
“Not that I noticed. I honestly didn’t look.”
“We need to draw some blood and do a work up on you. Do you feel like coming down to my office or want me to have everything brought up here?”
“I’m not about to have you drag all that stuff up here. I made it up to my office; I can surely make it down to your place.”
“The sooner the better. Can you do it right now?”
“No use in waiting,” Wittman said.
Miller had to help him stand and walk to the elevator.
“Hold all his calls no matter who it is. I’m taking Dr. Wittman down to the lab for some routine tests,” he told Carol.
“Yes Doctor Miller. Please help him get better.”
“You can count on it.”
***
Doctor Miller became more and more concerned as Wittman’s health continued to deteriorate throughout the day. As the hours went by and he took frequent blood tests, what concerned him most was the decrease was fighting his white blood cells.
“Bryan, this isn’t just a normal sickness. You are not producing white blood cells. The count is dropping rapidly. I’m going to have you taken to the hospital.”
“Carl, is that absolutely necessary? After all we have one of the most advanced facilities in the entire state. What could they offer that we can’t?”
“But this is life threatening. Unless we find out exactly what is causing this you could die.”
“Then find out. Get everyone you need. I don’t care about secrecy at this point. It can’t get much worse.”
“It can and is getting worse. I am starting to see changes in your DNA in the blood cells.”
“What? How can that be?”
“I don’t know. Have you been exposed to any kind of radiation? I mean, honestly that is what this is starting to look like,” Carl said.
“Radiation? Heavens no. I never go down to the sub-basement. I haven’t been down there in years.”
Miller just shook his head. All of the symptoms were pointing to radiation sickness, but how? Wittman worked up on the seventeenth floor. There was no way he could have been exposed.
“I need to find out for sure. I’m going to run some tests for radiation levels in your blood. That will narrow down what we are looking at.”
“Carl, that makes no sense. I haven’t been anyplace I could have been exposed. Hell, I haven’t even had a chest x-ray in over three years. It can’t be radiation.”
“Let me run the tests and then we will know for sure. If it isn’t that, I don’t know what we are up against. I’m going to bring in Lawrence and Parker and have a consult with them. They will want to poke and prod you for themselves. You just have to go along with it, alright?”
“I don’t see that I have much choice. I ache all over and am really too tired to even fight it.”
“Just relax. Go to sleep if you can. You are going to need all the rest you can get while we figure this out.”
“I don’t think that is going to be very hard,” Wittman said laying his head down and closing his eyes.
Within seconds he was asleep. Doctor Miller was truly alarmed. All the symptoms of radiation poisoning were evident. Hopefully Parker and Lawrence could help confirm his suspicion.
CHAPTER TWO
Drs. Miller, Parker, and Lawrence were standing in a small circle talking quietly.
“I agree. It is definitely radiation poisoning,” Parker said.
“But how did he get it?” Lawrence asked, “The only radioactive materials are kept on sub-levels four and five. You said he never goes down there,” Lawrence replied.
“He doesn’t. He said he hasn’t had an x-ray or MRI or other medical procedure in over two years. He had his annual physical a month or so ago but that would not cause what we are seeing.”
“Rig
ht now we need to determine how best to treat Wittman,” Miller told them.
“Our options as I see it are Potassium Iodine, Prussian Blue, or Diethylenetriamine pentaacetic acid (DTPA),” Lawrence replied.
“We can eliminate DTPA,” Miller said, “We only found Alpha particles. No Americium, curium or plutonium. I think we should use the Potassium Iodine.”
“That’s only affective if he gets it within a day of the absorption. We don’t know when he received the dose. Alpha radiation isn’t emitted through the body. It has to be eaten or inhaled. It can’t penetrate the skin,” Parker added.
“It is still our best option. Doing nothing will absolutely result in his death.”
“Carl, you know as well as I do, very few, if any, can survive a dose of Alpha radiation particles. His chances of surviving are less than one-half of one percent,” Lawrence added.
“We have to try something. Let’s start with the iodine and if that doesn’t seem to be working we can go to the Prussian Blue,” Miller advised.
“Works for me,” Parker said.
“Let’s do it,” Lawrence agreed.
***
The three doctors looked at Wittman as he lay in bed. His color was almost washed out and it was apparent that nothing was working.
“The Prussian Blue isn’t doing the trick either,” Miller said.
“Honestly, when we got nothing from the Iodine I didn’t think this would help much either,” Parker replied.
“Should we try the DTPA?” Lawrence asked.
“I guess we could try. At this point how could it hurt?” Miller said.
“I think we should be asking ourselves another question,” Lawrence said looking over at Wittman.
“Oh? What’s that?” Parker asked.
“What was the source? We are now sure it is alpha radiation poisoning. So how did he get it? There are only three viable ways, inhaling, ingesting, or injection. We know it wasn’t injected so he either inhaled it or somehow ingested it,” Lawrence replied.
“Even inhaling is fairly difficult. Alpha particles only travel a short distance before they become non-threatening. That pretty much leaves ingesting. Either he ate something that had alpha emitting particles in it or it was given to him,” Parker said.
DEAD ON ARRIVAL: Angie Bartoni Case File # 14 (Angie Bartoni Case Files) Page 1
