large. Wow! Anyway they’re considered OSHA cases, which was the main reason they were autopsied.”
“OSHA cases?” Pia questioned. She’d heard the acronym but couldn’t remember what it was for.
McGovern looked up. “The Occupational Safety and Health Administration. It’s a government agency that gets involved when there are deaths in the workplace involving public safety issues. The autopsy results will be reported to OSHA as the OCME is required to do by law.”
McGovern looked back at his screen.
“Okay. Both cases were done by Dr. Jack Stapleton. He’s our super-doc who does more cases than anyone else. He’s never satisfied, always pushing for more, works hard like he doesn’t have a life.
“Let’s see. The cause of death for both cases is listed as infectious disease-typhoid fever-and the manner of death is accidental. Let me ask you, do you know why the manner of death is considered accidental?”
Pia said that she didn’t, not adding that she might be challenging that official verdict.
“If the two researchers had come down with typhoid after eating at a restaurant, like the hospital cafeteria, then their deaths would have been labeled natural, since typhoid is a food-borne pathogen. But since they contracted the disease in a laboratory, or in a workplace setting, then it’s accidental because it certainly couldn’t be considered a natural process.”
McGovern was trying his best to sound authoritative.
“And if for some reason the researchers infected themselves on purpose, then the manner of death would be suicide. And last but not least, if someone purposely infected them, then it would be homicide.”
McGovern laughed and held his hands out wide as if to say, “See what a good teacher I am.”
Pia didn’t laugh with him or even smile. For her he was acting stereotypically transparent.
After a slightly awkward beat because of Pia’s lack of response, McGovern said, “Do you have any specific questions about the autopsies? If you do, I can call Jack and ask him directly. I know he’s still here.”
Chet McGovern would have liked nothing better than to have Pia indebted to him for his help. An hour earlier he’d learned his Friday-night plans had fallen through, and he hated spending the best night of the week on his own. He was about to ask her if she was free and if she might like to have a bite of dinner when he noticed she was lifting her bag up onto the desk. She then reached into it and pulled out a yellow instrument, a lead, and mike-like device attached. It took McGovern a minute but he recognized it as a Geiger counter.
“Well,” Pia said, “to be honest, what I’d really like to do is check if Rothman and Yamamoto might be emitting a small amount of radioactivity. I mean, if that would be all right.”
“I suppose,” McGovern said, not wanting to say “no” but confused by the strange request. There was obviously something she wasn’t telling him, but he decided to play along. “Why do you think they might be emitting radioactivity?”
Here was the thousand-dollar question. She still hadn’t decided how she was going to respond, even though she had been reasonably certain it would come up. She could go for broke and voice her suspicions or be more prudent and try to be obtuse about it. On the spot she decided on the latter.
“I’m involved in a project for a thesis involving radioisotopes used for research,” she said. Pia decided this wasn’t the time to raise suspicion about why she was really there at the OCME. She didn’t want to show her hand just yet. She didn’t want the OCME calling up the medical center and talking about her visit because it would reveal to whoever was involved in the conspiracy that she hadn’t stopped her meddling.
“I worked in Dr. Rothman’s lab for more than three years, and I know that certain isotopes were used in that period for various experiments. I just want to be sure there hasn’t been any contamination to the personnel. I checked Rothman’s lab and there was a very small amount of what we want to believe was rogue radiation in the office by his coffeemaker. I hope you can help. It’s for everyone’s peace of mind.”
Pia stopped. She knew what she had just said didn’t make total sense, but it sounded good. She smiled as pleasantly as she could. She hoped her smile didn’t look as fake as it felt. She could tell that McGovern was suspicious and hesitant, but that he hadn’t ruled out granting her request.
“Is that what you told Marlene downstairs?” he asked.
“I told her I was interested in a couple of particular cases.”
“Oh, okay. She said you wanted to know about the OCME electives. Never mind. Listen, we have radiation detectors down in the mortuary area just in case, and nothing has sounded recently, especially not yesterday. I know that for a fact.”
“Well, that’s not surprising because the isotopes we’ve been using in the lab were all alpha emitters for targeted alpha therapy such as bismuth-213 and lead-212, which wouldn’t be picked up by general radiation detectors made for beta and gamma radiation.”
Pia smiled again and McGovern nodded knowingly, even though he had no idea what she was talking about. The last time he read much about radioisotopes was over a decade earlier when he was studying for his boards. McGovern looked pensive. Pia thought he was thinking about alpha particles. In fact McGovern was running a mental checklist. At first he’d questioned himself, but no, he was certain. He’d never seen a better-looking medical student, which was saying something as they were, in his opinion, getting better-looking every year, at least at NYU, which was where most of the medical students he met in his position as OCME teaching coordinator were from. He should spend more time at Columbia, he thought.
“So you just want to make sure Rothman’s and Yamamoto’s bodies are not emitting alpha radiation?” McGovern asked, just to be certain he understood.
“That’s right. That’s why I brought this Geiger counter. It’s specially programmed for detecting alpha particles.”
McGovern went back to his monitor.
“Let’s see. There might just be a problem. The bodies of infectious cases like these don’t stay around here very long, for obvious reasons…. Yup!” he said suddenly, tapping the screen with a forefinger. “Just as I thought. There’s a problem. As I said, in serious infectious cases like typhoid fever and a few other communicable diseases, the bodies aren’t held here in the OCME. After the autopsies are completed and the cause and manner of death corroborated, the bodies are released to the families and the respective funeral homes and cleared for cremation. In other words,” McGovern said, “the researchers’ bodies are no longer here. You’re about twenty hours too late.”
Pia mouthed a repressed “shit,” which McGovern caught and appreciated. He associated colorful language with feistiness, and he loved feistiness in a woman. It was his hope that now that he’d ascertained the bodies were no longer at the OCME, perhaps they could move on to more interesting topics, like Friday-night plans. Meanwhile, Pia stared into the middle distance, thinking. She could hardly reproach herself; twenty-four hours ago, when the bodies left, she’d never even heard of polonium-210.
Watching Pia’s expression, Chet suddenly was afraid that after hearing the news she might get up and leave. She was clearly disappointed. In his mind, her leaving at that point would be a major tragedy because so far he’d not gotten either cell phone number or an e-mail address from her.
“The guy who did both autopsies is just down the hall,” Chet reminded Pia. “And he’s a friend. So if you have a specific question about what he found, I’m happy to go ask him.”
Pia was disappointed. It had never occurred to her that Rothman’s and Yamamoto’s bodies would have already been sent to funeral homes. She thought briefly about trying to find out the names of the funeral homes, but she didn’t know how she would do that without raising a lot of suspicion. As for talking to the ME down the hall, what would possibly be the point?
49.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER NEW YORK CITY MARCH 25, 2011, 5:25 P.M.
Earlier, while Prek and Genti had sat in the van, Neri Krasnigi, the recruit foisted on them by Buda for God knows what reason, had been continually walking along 168th Street and the small portion of Haven Avenue from the medical school entrance back to the van. He’d been ordered to have his cell phone in the radio mode to act like a walkie-talkie to stay in contact. Neri was dressed in one of the security guard uniforms,
