pay off debts. Why not do it here? According to Sammy, they were on the verge of losing the store.”
“For a thousand bucks?”
“That’s what they got in India. I’m sure it would be more here. A lot more.”
“I did look a few things up last night, after we talked,” Jenn said. “And there have been a couple of instances of people selling organs here, both investigated by the FBI.”
“Here in Boston?”
“No, the U.S. One was in New Jersey, which I hate to tell you involved a rabbi.”
“Doing what?”
“Bringing in people from Israel and Turkey who posed as relatives of patients.”
“And the second case?”
“Virginia. Also bringing in people posing as relatives, this time from Moldova.”
“Very distant relatives. And the hospitals turned a blind eye?”
“The money is huge, Jonah. A hospital bill is a minimum of two hundred and fifty thousand for a kidney transplant-which costs the least of any organ. And that’s not including any of the medications: that’s just the procurement of the organ and the actual surgery. The more complex organs like the heart or lungs are well over a million. So yeah, they seem to turn a blind eye. This one article I read said there were four documented cases of large donations or endowments made to hospitals by people who had transplants involving these foreign relatives.”
“All right. If a kidney is worth a quarter of a million dollars to a hospital,” I said, “think what it would be worth on the black market.”
“If one exists.”
“It exists. Otherwise, McCudden and Walsh would be alive and David would be here.”
“Then it has to be two, three times as much. Black markets never settle for less.”
“Okay,” I said. “We know Patel had a growth removed from his neck eight months ago at Sinai. If he consented, his blood would have been sent to the gene study. Suppose Carol-Ann has a list of people who need organs and he comes up as a match. Someone contacts him and asks if he wants to part with a kidney. Maybe he agrees, but something goes wrong, or he doesn’t agree and they kill him for it.”
“And you see David taking part?”
“No. Never. Not without a gun to his head.”
“But how else do we explain him suddenly acquiring ten thousand, half of which he gives to the Patel family?”
“I’m hoping Sammy knows something. Maybe he’ll remember someone coming around, or something his father said or did that will help.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come?” Jenn asked.
“I’ve been there once, I know the way.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“We beat the two goons Daggett sent after us. If he tries again, he’ll send someone better.”
“It’s eight o’clock in the morning. I’ll be there and back by ten. Then we surprise Carol-Ann.”
“Okay.”
“How long from here to her place?” I asked.
“We get on the Pike, about fifteen minutes.”
“What about the art institute, where is that in relation to her place?”
“Near the harbour, basically across from the airport. Also about fifteen minutes.”
“All right,” I said. “We’re rocking. You feel it? We’re lining them up and they’re all going to fall. By the end of the day, we’re going to know a lot more about what David was doing. We might even have something worth calling his parents about.”
Sammy Patel led me straight to the crowded storeroom at the back of Madras Grocery. It wasn’t as if we had to elbow any customers aside. His mother was at the front, alone, taking inventory with a small notebook and a pencil no longer than my pinky.
“Please tell me you’ve found something,” he said.
“Nothing concrete. But I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“Go.”
“You said your father had a cyst removed at Sinai Hospital.”
“Yes. Just before Labour Day.”
“Do you remember if he consented to participating in a gene study?”
“Absolutely. I had to translate part of it for him. His English is good but not that good.”
“Okay. Do you remember any unusual visitors or phone calls he might have received after that procedure? Anything that upset him or changed his behaviour?”
“In what way?”
How to explain it to this young man, so desperate to hear news about his father. If my scenario was correct, there was no way he was still alive.
“You said the store’s finances are in rough shape.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Did he ever hint that there might be money coming in?”
Sammy thought about it a moment, then nodded. “About two months ago. Early in the new year, at any rate. His mood over Christmas had been miserable, rock bottom. Either snapping at my mother or brooding down here at night.”
“You live upstairs?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Anyway, sometime in January, he seemed to feel better. There was one day it was just the two of us in the store-Mum had a doctor’s appointment-and we were in between customers, as is usually the case, and he said better times were coming. That his business acumen was greater than we gave him credit for. Why do you ask?”
“Sammy, this is going to sound …”
“Sound what?”
“Weird. Maybe totally out of left field.”
“Please. If there’s anything at all, just say it. Anything is better than this limbo we’re in.”
“Do you think your father would have sold a kidney to pay off some of your debt?”
He looked at me with a mixture of astonishment and anger. “What kind of question is that? Is this some Indian stereotype of yours?”
“I told you that David Fine was a transplant surgeon. Our investigation is leading in that direction.”
“What direction exactly?”
“Doing surgery off the books. Getting organs to people who don’t like their odds on a waiting list. We think someone at Sinai Hospital might have been using the gene study records to find matches for these recipients. And I happened to read an article about people in Madras who would donate organs to pay off debts.”
“But that’s over there. This is America.”
“Suppose someone approached him. Told him he was a match for a recipient. Was your father desperate enough to do it, you think?”
“What kind of money are we talking about?”
“I’m not sure. Say ten or twenty thousand. Maybe more. Would that have made a difference to your situation?”
“Ten wouldn’t have done much. Twenty would have helped. More than that, I might sell one. But the whole notion sounds incredible. Impossible. Do you have any proof, anything you can take to the police?”
“We’re working on it. In fact, we’re going to see someone this morning who might confirm it. So what do you think? Would he have done it?”
“Is it a risky procedure? He’s not the bravest of souls.”
“Apparently not,” I said. “The donor is left with a few small incisions, a stitch or two each, and recovery time is minimal. Two days in a clinic and back to normal strength within a month or two.”
Sammy leaned against a wall and rubbed the back of his neck. “This store meant everything to him, and to
