“That is a good question. One of his subordinates saw it on CNN International and felt it serious enough, considering its possible effect on the PR campaign the Ministry of Tourism and the Indian Healthcare Federation have been co-sponsoring, to inform Srivastava immediately despite the hour. What impressed me was that Srivastava then called me directly instead of delegating it to one of his underlings. It shows how serious he thinks it is, which is why he wants the case to disappear, which, of course, is why he wants rapid disposition of the body. To help, he said he’d call to have the death certificate signed without delay, which he did. He also ordered that no one from the hospital staff on any pretext should talk to the media. He said that on the air there was a hint of some kind of investigation. He does not want an investigation of any sort.”
“I got that message loud and clear, as did everyone else.”
“So,” Rajish said, letting his legs fall to the floor and slapping the table for emphasis, “let’s get the body cleared for cremation or embalming and out of here.”
Kashmira pushed back her chair, the legs of which screeched against the floor in protest. “I will get the process started immediately by making the travel arrangements for Ms. Hernandez. Are you planning on talking to Mr. Srivastava again tonight?”
“He asked me to call his home with an update. So, yes, I will be calling.”
“Mention to him we might need his support to get an emergency M visa for Ms. Hernandez.”
“Will do,” Rajish said, jotting down a quick note to himself. He watched Kashmira walk out the door. Returning his attention to the phone Kashmira had used to call Jennifer and taking out Joint Secretary Srivastava’s phone number, which Rajish had written on a piece of scratch paper, he made the call. It made him feel proud to be calling someone so high in the health bureaucracy, especially at such an unorthodox hour.
After answering on the first ring, suggesting he was waiting by the phone, Ramesh Srivastava wasted no time with small talk. He asked if the body had been taken care of as he’d requested. “Not quite,” Rajish had to admit. He went on to describe how they’d asked the son but that the son had designated the granddaughter but the granddaughter had demurred. “The good part,” Rajish explained, “is that the granddaughter will be on her way to Delhi within a few hours and that as soon as she arrives they will press her for a decision.”
“What about the media?” Ramesh questioned. “Has there been any media patrolling around the hospital?”
“None whatsoever.”
“I’m surprised and encouraged. It also brings me to the issue of how the media got news of the death in the first place. In the context the piece was presented on the air, it seems to us that it had to have been a left-wing student who is against the rapid increase in private hospitals in India. Are you aware of any such person or persons at Queen Victoria Hospital?”
“Absolutely not. I’m certain we in the administration would be aware of such a person.”
“Keep it in mind. With public hospital budgets stagnant, particularly for infectious disease control, there are people who feel quite emotional about the issue.”
“I will certainly keep it in mind,” Rajish said. The idea that one of their medical staff could be a traitor was troubling, and the first thing he was going to do in the morning was raise the issue with the chief of the medical staff.
Chapter 5
OCTOBER 15, 2007
MONDAY, 10:45 A.M.
LOS ANGELES, USA
(SIMULTANEOUS WITH RAJISH BHURGAVA’S LEAVING
THE QUEEN VICTORIA HOSPITAL)
Jennifer was in the process of making her way from the medical school back to the main building of the UCLA Medical Center and felt amazed at what she’d been able to accomplish despite her emotional fog. From the moment she terminated the conversation with the Queen Victoria Hospital case manager a little over an hour ago, she’d dealt with her new preceptor, dashed home, called back to India to give her passport number, made her way to the med school, got the blessing of the dean for a week off, arranged a replacement for her gainful-employment blood- bank job, and was now hoping to solve her emotional fears, economic concerns, and the problem of malaria prophylaxis. Although she’d taken out the almost four hundred dollars she had in savings, she was worried it might not be enough even with her credit card and Foreign Medical Solutions of Chicago paying her major expenses. Jennifer had certainly never been to India, much less on a mission dealing with a dead body. The possibility she would need a significant amount of cash was hardly far-fetched, especially if cremation or embalming was not something that could be charged.
Being as busy as she’d been over the hour-plus had had the secondary benefit of keeping her from obsessing about the reality of her grandmother’s passing. Even the weather helped, since it was as glorious as the dawn had predicted. She could still see the mountains in the distance, although not with quite the same startling clarity. But now that she was almost finished with her errands, reality began to reassert itself.
Jennifer was going to miss Maria terribly. She was the person with whom Jennifer was the closest, and had been since Jennifer was three years old. Besides her two brothers, neither of whom she spoke with for months on end, her only relatives that she knew were in Colombia, and she’d met them only once back when her grandmother had taken her there for that expressed purpose. Relatives on her mother’s side were a complete mystery. As far as Jennifer was concerned, her father, Juan, didn’t count.
Just as Jennifer had passed through the revolving entrance of the main redbrick hospital building, her cell phone sounded. Checking the screen, she could see it was India calling back. She answered the phone and in the process stepped back outside into the sunlight.
“I have good news,” Kashmira said. “I’ve been able to make all the arrangements. Do you have a pencil and paper?”
“I do,” Jennifer responded. Getting a small, stiff-backed notebook from her shoulder bag and tucking her phone into the crook of her neck, she was able to write down the flight information. When she learned she’d be leaving that afternoon but not arriving until almost the wee hours of Wednesday, she was appalled. “I had no idea it would take so long.”
“It is a long flight,” Kashmira admitted. “But we are halfway around the world. Now, when you land here in New Delhi and reach passport control, go to the diplomatic corps line. Your visa will be waiting there. Then once you have your baggage and come out of customs, there will be a representative from the Amal Palace Hotel holding a sign. He will handle your luggage and get you to your driver.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Jennifer said, while she was trying to figure out from the departure times and the arrival times just how many hours she would be in the air. She quickly realized she couldn’t do it without knowing all the time zones. In addition, she found herself confused by having to cross the international date line.
“Wednesday morning we will arrange a car to pick you up from the hotel at eight. Will that be alright with you?”
“I guess,” Jennifer said, wondering how human she would be feeling after being on a plane for nine years and having no idea how much sleep she would be able to get.
“We look forward to meeting you.”
“Thank you.”
“Now I’d like to ask you once again if you have made up your mind between cremation and embalming?”
A wave of irritation washed over Jennifer just when she was beginning to like the case manager. Didn’t she have any intuition? Jenifer wondered with amazement. “Now why would I change the way I thought just a couple of
