The Organ Broker
Page 24
Our eyes met for the final time and his appeared fearful and wild, not somber.
“Where’s Lauer?” he asked.
“He’s already on the way. On another flight.”
“Why?” Wallace asked, knowing that anything I said would be a lie, perhaps just stalling while he tried to figure out the best pitch.
“I’m not going with you,” I said. He did not reply. This was it. This was how our moment would be. The universe didn’t care. No one cared. I loved him somehow. And I missed him already. Wallace started to shake his head slightly from side to side and only said, “Jack,” quietly, as if to mean, “Wait, let’s just talk this through now. How much? How much, friend? Okay, we can work this out… .”
“Don’t worry,” I said, clenching my teeth. “I’m just taking another flight. I’ll meet you there.”
“What?”
“I’m just taking the other flight. But I’ll meet you there. With Wolff and with everyone. We’ll work things out then. We’ll talk in Jozi. Don’t worry. I’ll see you. We’re going to end up in the same place.”
I turned quickly and Wallace suddenly yelled, “Jack!” and it stunned me and I stopped. One of Juan’s men put his hands up in front of his chest and pushed his palms toward Wallace. It seemed to exert an energy which literally pushed him down into his chair. Another turned to me and said, “Go. Go now,” and I did. My eyes were blurry again, my breath came shallow and I felt sick. I pushed my fingers back through my hair. Wallace’s flight was not going to Jozi. It was headed for Rio. In the car from the airport to the hotel it would be pulled over by two men on a motorcycle. Those men had already received a half a million dollars in a wire transfer from Harold Lauer. Lauer didn’t know why. I made all of these choices alone. That’s important.
◆
I did not go to Rio. I did not return to my Jozi of Joburg and the golden days of my ascension as a golfer, and a broker. I went somewhere else. I didn’t get away with anything, nor have I truly been punished. I simply “am” now, but no Jack, no matter how new, has ever been without a plan. So these words are for my new associate, Vinny Pearl:
You won’t find me. I have gotten quite adept at laying low. But I also need you not to try. We have some mutual goals now and trying to find me would actually be counter-productive. Everything I’ve told you about Mel Wolff and Royston, that’s all true. Now go and burn that place down. Have your SA counterparts put Kleinhans and Wolff away, and if the case isn’t good enough, use a fucking drone strike. But don’t let that place stand.
Everything I have written here about my friend Guillermo, in Brazil, is of course inaccurate, including his name, and even the cities he might frequent. Perhaps even the countries. His biggest interest is saving kids in poor South American countries who have cancer. That’s not something you need to upset. Tracking down the email address I used to send you this, the IP address… . That won’t give you anything. Neither will the cellphone I may call you from in a few months. You know that.
Philip got his heart in a domino transplant, just like I dreamed that he might a few months ago. If you want to go after his father I don’t even give a shit but for what it’s worth, the guy had no idea what was happening and didn’t really conspire in anything illegal, nor was there intent. Philip has been in recovery for four days now and he’s doing well, but his prognosis is still far from rosy, and never will be. Perhaps you can leave that alone as well. He has a shot now, and that’s all anyone really ever has, but his comes with much longer than average odds.
You’ll hear from me from time to time, Vinny. That won’t remain possible if I feel like you are looking for me, but if you leave me alone, I will definitely get in touch. I might be able to help you out a bit. It’s like I said earlier—everyone’s flawed, but some are just more flawed than others. Anyone who works in my old business who’s just getting by, trying to make a living, stretching the truth and doing a little damage along the way, that’s okay. I’m not concerned with them. They all have their twisted rationalizations and victim perspectives and I have my own. Let them think they saved a few fat Americans. Let them think they’re working in secret, safe from the fluorescent office lights the rest of the world lives beneath. As for the rest of them, the ones who would do harm even when it isn’t necessary, they are all in my Rolodex. I know the vampires and the leaches and the Kleinhans counterparts in every third-world shithole of a city where they prey upon the poverty of organ sellers. Let me work some of it out. I’ll let you know how it’s going. I’ll ping you every now and then to let you know how your guys can help.
As for the money… . Yes, Vinny, my money, more than a grunt like you could ever imagine getting his hands on … neither Mark nor Michelle really needs it, and you would have seized it anyway, so I made other arrangements. Some of it I need. I sent a hundred grand to a guy who does research on cryogenics with a note that merely said: “You helped me once although you didn’t even know it. Good luck with your research. I hope you live forever, but in the meantime, get some freaking air conditioners. And stay away from The Siren. –New York Jack.” The rest I gave to a friend in Brazil. I feel no satisfaction from any of that. I’m not sure why.
I have one last thing to say to Mark: Don’t ever be confused. You saved me. -Jack
AFTERWORD
While the preceding story is fiction, the organ shortage in America is not. It is dire for over 120,000 people currently on the waiting list and of deep concern for over three hundred thousand others who are on dialysis but not on a waiting list for a transplant. So what can we do to help save the lives of some of the people on those waiting lists, some of whom might even be people we know, or know through only one or two degrees of separation? First of all, register to be an organ donor. A now-famous Gallup Poll conducted in 2005 found that 95% of Americans approve of organ donation and yet, today, nearly half of those eligible remain unregistered. If you are one of them, you can rectify that right now, in a few short minutes, by visiting www.donatelife.net and registering. Doing so will ensure that when you pass away, if it is possible for a hospital to make use of your organs to help others, you might potentially save as many as eight other people’s lives.
We also need sensible, modern and effective public policies to address the problem that is quickly growing into a quiet epidemic. There aren’t enough donors and in addition, the current system doesn’t efficiently convert those who have signed up to actually become donors. The shortage of critically-needed, life-saving organs has created a black market that harms countless other people in poor nations around the world who are victimized by the illegal transplant tourism system as described in The Organ Broker.
In my article published in Salon.com on March 23, 2014 I proposed a realistic three-pronged solution:
1. Presumed Consent. Like many European countries, the United States would benefit from a policy of Presumed Consent (wherein those who do not want to be organ donors must register to opt out, as opposed to the current system where one must register to opt in). There is debate over the ultimate impact of such a policy, but this much we know: in European countries that switched to an opt out system on average only three percent of citizens bother to opt out. On its own, a policy of Presumed Consent would not solve the problem, but it could dramatically raise the number of organ donors and can be part of an overarching solution.
2. Binding Consent. In America, when you die, if you have left a will, no one at a funeral home, hospital, or government agency asks your beneficiaries whether they want to honor your will or just split up your money some other way. If we get to determine the disposition of our money after death surely we should also get to decide the fate of our own bodies and organs—and not be overruled by anyone, even our own families. Yet, that is not the case. Each year, thousands of potentially life-saving kidneys get thrown out because distraught families, approached at the very worst time, refuse to donate the organs of their loved ones, even if they had registered as donors. It’s not right for us
to ask families to make such choices, and it’s wrong for us to allow them to contradict the stated wishes of their family members (which are often legally-binding, but ignored anyway) who wanted their organs to be used to save others.
3. Education. With Presumed Consent and Binding Consent in place, we still need modern and comprehensive educational programs to help individuals understand their rights, to help families navigate these difficult circumstances and to better empower hospital and transplant center staff to manage the difficult process.
Whether you agree, or disagree, with all or some portion of my proposal, we can all agree on this: something needs to be done. While you read my book, people died who might have otherwise been saved by new legislation. Twenty people will die today while waiting for kidneys. Twenty more will die tomorrow. The most ironic part of all is that creating greater access to organs for transplantation might also cut down on the enormous expense of dialysis, most of which falls on Medicare, and save US taxpayers billions every year. Please register to be a donor, and to learn more, visit www.theorganbroker.com.
Please visit www.tengrade.com/tornado/theorganbroker to rate various topics discussed throughout this novel, and compare your opinions with your friends and people like you.
Thank you,
Stu Strumwasser