'The bone paste?'
'The cement, the paste, the screws. Perhaps the original bone they're made from?' Platt asked, picking up one of the screws and examining it.
Ganz shook his head. 'No, I'd say that's next to impossible. We use our own.'
'What do you mean, you use your own?'
'We have our own supply of bone and tissue.'
Platt didn't bother to hide his surprise.
'The navy was the first to use frozen bone transplants,' Ganz explained. 'Back in the forties at the Naval Medical Center in Maryland. An orthopedic surgeon by the name of Hyatt started freezing and storing bones that he'd surgically removed during amputation. Instead of discarding the bone he'd freeze it, store it, and use what he could to repair fractures in other patients. Sorry,' Ganz interrupted himself. 'Don't mean to give you a history lesson.'
'I don't mind. Go on.'
'Hyatt was so successful he started one of the first body-donation programs. That's how the Navy Tissue Bank started. Even back then they were able to remove more than just bone--tissue, veins, skin, corneas--though they weren't quite sure what to do with most of it. They offered surgeons free use of the bank, only asking that they share their results so Hyatt and his colleagues could maintain their database. It was all pretty much trial and error, but Hyatt figured out a way to disinfect and screen the tissue. Even developed a way to freeze-dry it for shipping. The operation we have today is much more focused and we limit it only to military surgeons.'
'Where does the bone and tissue get processed?'
'In Jacksonville. I recommended Dr. McCleary, the pathologist. He came out of retirement just to run the program. Does an amazing job with the aid of only one diener.'
'So you ship him your ... bones? Your excess ...?'
Ganz nodded and smiled at Platt's loss of terminology. 'It's part of the program I started here.'
'Why not do all of it here?'
'Jacksonville had a well-equipped facility already available. Plus it's practically next door to BIOMedics, the company that does all the precision tooling.'
'Who does the screening and disinfecting?'
'Dr. McCleary does it with the help of BIOMedics. I know what you're thinking, Ben. I've already considered contamination. We've checked and double-checked. We've never had a problem before.'
'Have you checked any of the precision-tooled stuff from the dead soldiers?'
Ganz's hesitation gave Platt his answer.
'No,' Ganz finally said. 'I don't believe we removed any of it.'
Platt nodded, still staring at the prosthetic leg he had set aside on the table next to the bone screws. He wrapped his hands around his coffee mug then looked up at Captain Ganz.
'After the autopsy I took a look at a tissue sample from Ronnie Towers.'
'Ronnie Towers?'
'The soldier who just died,' Platt said without criticism. 'I checked the bone paste used on the prosthetic, too. There were traces of the bacteria Clostridium sordellii. Are you familiar with it?'
Ganz scratched at his jaw. 'Isn't that usually found in soil?'
Platt nodded. 'It can also be found in fecal matter or inside intestines.'
'That doesn't make any sense.'
'Your patients' symptoms are similar to sepsis or severe toxic shock, which can be a result of an infection caused by Clostridium sordellii. The only problem is, I have no idea where the bacteria came from. This is something that's usually seen in one particular type of patient.'
'And what type is that?'
'Pregnant women.'
CHAPTER 29
Danny Delveccio tossed the last of the garbage bags into the back of the Santa Rosa Island Authority pickup. He slapped the side door to let the driver know he was finished.
'See ya tomorrow, Andy.'
'Early, dude. Gonna be some killer waves.'
'Seven?'
In reply he got a thumbs-up.
Danny walked to his car, his legs tight from a day of surfing followed by the routine walk up the beach to pick up garbage. Walking in the sand had been hard to get used to, especially the burn in his calves. He remembered the first week he couldn't even hold himself up on his board. Who knew picking up other people's crap could be so physically draining.
He keyed open the trunk to his Impala. Everything he owned was back here. He didn't worry about anyone stealing the car. To a thief it'd be worthless. The tires were bald, the engine had a chronic sputter, and it needed a paint job. But it was his transportation, his home, and his lifeline.
Danny grabbed a clean towel from the stash he had just washed at the laundromat. He'd shower, stop at the vending machine, then get some sleep. Andy had heard earlier that the hurricane was already in the Gulf, and as the resident expert of such things, he assured Danny that by morning the waves would be awesome.
He closed the trunk and that's when he saw the guy standing beside him. Scared the crap out of Danny. He jumped but didn't let on.
'Sorry,' the man said. 'I didn't mean to startle you. Mr. B said you usually get off work about this time. I thought you might be hungry.'
'Mr. B? Coney Island Canteen Mr. B?'
The man held out a container that smelled like heaven: melted cheese, onions, French fries.
'Yeah, I met you there earlier today, remember? I'm a salesman and Mr. B mentioned you do odd jobs for hire around the beach.'
Danny squinted but the man's face remained partly shadowed. He supposed the guy looked familiar. How could he tell from the hundreds of faces he saw every day on the beach? But if he was a friend of Mr. B's, he had to be cool.
'I wondered if you might help me load a couple of crates into my van.'
When Danny still hesitated, the guy held out the container again.
'Cheeseburger and fries plus an Andrew Jackson? Should only take about fifteen minutes.'
Danny's mouth watered. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. It beat anything he'd get in the vending machines.
'Can I eat first?'
'Sure.'
He accepted the container and popped it open. He hadn't had a burger and fries in weeks, let alone one like this. And twenty dollars for fifteen minutes of work? Danny couldn't believe his good fortune.
MONDAY, AUGUST 24
CHAPTER 30
Platt's vision was blurred. He tried to keep focused. If the clock on the wall was correct, it was just after one o'clock in the morning.
'I'm not a scientist, Ben,' Captain Ganz said as he rubbed his eyes, stood, and stretched behind his desk. 'You tell me this bacteria is causing an infection but you don't know where the bacteria is coming from. I can assure you
