“Is he available?” Kashmir questioned Rajish’s private secretary.
“I believe so,” the secretary said. “But he’s not in a good mood.” She checked, using the intercom, and then waved Kashmira by as another call came in on an outside line.
Between calls, Rajish was reading over a stack of letters and then signing them with his rapid scrawl. In contrast to his casual cowboy outfits he wore when called in at night, he was wearing a Western designer suit, white shirt, and Gucci tie.
“Did she come back this afternoon?” Rajish demanded when Kashmira shut his office door and approached his desk. Over the lunch hour she had briefed him about Jennifer’s intransigence that morning and how self-willed she was, but had ended by saying she was optimistic Jennifer would be more reasonable after some sleep. She’d also conveyed to Rajish Jennifer’s brief talk of an autopsy. This new information had provoked Rajish to comment irritably that there would be no autopsy under any circumstances. He added that the last thing he wanted to do was take the risk of some true pathology’s being found that should have been known before the surgery. Kashmira also had told him that Jennifer had brought up the name of Benfatti, and Rajish had questioned how Jennifer had learned about the death. Kashmira had confessed she had no idea. All in all, Rajish was no fan of Jennifer Hernandez.
“She just left,” Kashmira said with a nod in answer to Rajish’s question.
“And?” Rajish snapped. With a second death in so many nights, he was in a foul mood. Once again the night before he’d been called by the powerful Ramesh Srivastava and informed that CNN International had reported another death at Rajish’s hospital before the hospital had called him. Although the highly placed public servant hadn’t actually threatened Rajish directly, the implication of blame had been uncomfortably clear.
“It’s getting worse, I’m afraid. She now says that she wants to wait until Friday before making a decision. Apparently, the dead woman worked for someone who has subsequently become a forensic pathologist. This forensic pathologist is apparently arriving tomorrow night.”
Rajish slapped a hand to his forehead and forcibly rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “This can’t be happening,” he moaned.
“It gets worse. The woman is bringing her husband, and he is also a forensic pathologist.”
In a minor panic, Rajish lowered his hand and stared at Kashmira. “We’ll be dealing with two American forensic specialists?”
“It appears that way.”
“Did you make it absolutely clear to Ms. Hernandez that there will be no autopsy?”
“I did, both this morning and this afternoon. It’s my understanding that the reason that this woman who is on her way is a forensic pathologist is incidental to why she is coming. So we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
Rajish tipped back in his chair until he was looking directly up at the ceiling. “What did I do to deserve these problems? All I’m trying to do is keep it all out of the media beyond the initial CNN segments.”
“In that regard, things are still quiet. There’s been no media people here yesterday or today.”
“Thank the gods for small favors, but that might change at any moment, especially now with two deaths.”
“Ms. Hernandez is potentially interfering in that situation also.”
There was a loud squeak as Rajish suddenly tipped forward and gaped at Kashmira. “How is she managing that?”
“Somehow the widow and she got together. Lucinda Benfatti called back a little while ago to reemphasize that she, too, doesn’t want her husband’s body touched until her sons get here Friday. As you know from last night she’d already said that, but both of us thought the chances were good that she’d change her mind today when I spoke with her. No deal. In fact, she mentioned Jennifer’s forensic pathologist friends coming, and that she’d asked Jennifer if her friends could look at her husband’s case as well. If the media get wind of this, they might jump on it.”
Rajish slammed his palm down on his desk. Several of the letters waiting to be read swooped off into the air. “This woman is a scourge spreading her stubbornness to others. I worry this situation is rapidly growing beyond our capability to keep it under wraps. Most people who are grieving are too emotionally paralyzed to cause trouble. What is wrong with this Hernandez girl?”
“She’s self-willed, as I mentioned,” Kashmira agreed.
“Is she spiritual?”
“I haven’t any idea. She’s not said anything to make me think one way or the other. Why do you ask?”
“I was just thinking that if she were spiritual, we could tempt her with her grandmother’s body.”
“How so?”
“Offer to have it cremated at the world-famous burning ghats of Varanasi and the ashes placed in the Ganges.”
“But that is a privilege reserved for Hindus.”
Rajish made a gesture as if swatting a fly. “Some extra consideration for the Brahmin of the Ghats of Jalore would solve that issue. Perhaps Ms. Hernandez could be tempted. It could be touted as an extra favor to the departed. We could offer it to Mrs. Benfatti as well.”
“I’m not optimistic,” Kashmira said. “Neither strikes me as particularly religious, and being cremated in Varanasi only has true meaning for Hindus. Yet I’ll give it a try. The Hernandez girl herself admitted she might think differently after she’d gotten some sleep. She is exhausted and suffering jet lag. Maybe such a bribe would push her over the edge.”
“We must get these bodies out of that cafeteria cooler,” Rajish emphasized. “Especially with the hospital currently under observation by the International Joint Commission. We can’t afford to fail for such an incidental violation. Meanwhile, I will give Ramesh Srivastava a call back and report we are having a particularly difficult time with the Hernandez woman.”
“I have tried my best with her, I assure you. I’ve been very direct. More so than with any other next of kin.”
“I know you have. The problem is we have limited resources. That’s not the situation with someone like Ramesh Srivastava. He has the weight of the entire Indian bureaucracy behind him. If he so desired, he could even keep the two forensic friends of Ms. Hernandez out of the country.”
“I’ll keep you informed of any changes,” Kashmira said, as she turned to go.
“Please do,” Rajish said, with a brief wave. He used his intercom to ask his secretary to get Mr. Ramesh Srivastava on the line. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He knew how powerful Srivastava was and how he could get Rajish fired with a snap of his fingers.
Chapter 16
OCTOBER 17, 2007
WEDNESDAY, 3:15 P.M.
NEW DELHI, INDIA
It had not been a good day for Ramesh Srivastava. Starting the moment he got into his office in the morning, the deputy secretary of state for health had called to tell him that the secretary of state for health was furious about the second CNN International segment being aired concerning India’s nascent medical tourism industry. Then the calls had never stopped. They came from half a dozen joint secretaries of the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare, the president of the Indian Healthcare Federation, and even the secretary of state for tourism, all reminding him that he happened to be presiding over the department of medical tourism when it was experiencing the most negative international PR that it had ever experienced. All the callers also reminded him that they had the power to end his career if he didn’t do something and do it fast. The problem was, he didn’t know what to do. He’d tried to figure out how CNN International was getting the tips, but without success.
“A Mr. Rajish Bhurgava is online at this moment,” Ramesh’s secretary said as Ramesh came through his
