down the ramp. He parked it next to the hospital’s food-service vehicle with its rear butting up against the freight dock.
When he entered the hospital from the loading dock, he again smiled and said hello to the elderly guard. Jack was confident they were even better friends now. The guard’s toothless smile was even broader.
As he walked down the hall to the elevator, which was going to take him to the lobby so that he could get directions to Dr. Ram’s office, he took out his mobile phone and the piece of paper with Neil McCulgan’s number and dialed it.
“I hope I’m not waking you guys,” Jack said once Neil had answered.
“Not at all,” Neil said. “I’m in the gym riding the stationary bike. I’m supposed to meet up with Jennifer at nine.”
“You asked if you could help last night.”
“Absolutely,” Neil said. “What do you need?”
“I imagine they’ve already given Jennifer her grandmother’s belongings. What I need is a set of her clothes. Could you ask Jennifer for them and then run them over here to the Queen Victoria Hospital? Laurie and I will be in seeing Dr. Arun Ram. I don’t know where his office is, or I would tell you.”
“Clothes? What do you want clothes for?”
“She needs them, not me. She’s being discharged in an hour or so.”
When Veena had left the bungalow for work that day, Cal had given her specific instructions to artfully find out at some point what had transpired with Maria Hernandez’s body. He’d asked her to do this even though last evening he’d specifically told her, Samira, and Raj not to call attention to themselves in regard to their victims’ remains. But with the American forensic pathologists coming, he knew that it was going to be the critical day.
As he laced up his jogging shoes in preparation for a run, his mind was busy mulling over what Veena might tell him that evening. He hoped and was reasonably confident that the day’s events would be the end of the problem. He wanted to hear that the body was cremated or at the very least embalmed.
While he was thinking about Maria Hernandez, he couldn’t stop obsessing about Jennifer Hernandez, either, and what it was that had aroused her suspicion. During the morning meeting in the conservatory he almost brought up the subject of what he was planning, but at the last minute changed his mind. He was afraid of Petra’s and Santana’s responses, particularly Santana’s, in relation to the necessity of having the Hernandez woman disappear after he had learned from her what he needed to learn.
Cal ran in place for a couple of seconds. His shoes were new, and he wanted to make sure they were comfortable. Everything seemed fine. He grabbed his water bottle and headed for the door. He didn’t quite make it. His phone’s insistent jangle brought him to a halt and initiated a rapid debate: Do I get it or do I let voicemail get it?
With so much happening all at the same time, he thought he’d better answer it, but it irritated him. “Yeah!” he said gruffly.
“It’s Sachin,” an equally gruff voice responded.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Gupta,” Cal said with a more businesslike tone.
“You called last night.”
“I did. We have another job. Are you available?”
“It depends on the job and on the compensation.”
“The compensation will be more than the last time.”
“Give me an idea of the scope of the job.”
“It’s an American. A young woman. We’d like to entertain her here for perhaps twenty-four hours, and then we would like her to leave.”
“For good?”
“Yes, for good.”
“Do you know where she is, or is that part of the job?”
“We know where she is.”
“It will be double last time’s charge.”
“How about one and a half times?” Cal suggested. Even though he didn’t care about the cost, he had an irrepressible urge to bargain.
“Double,” Sachin said.
“Alright, double,” Cal responded. He wanted to get out for his run. “But I want it to happen today, if possible.”
“I’ll be by for half the compensation now and for the rest tonight.”
“I’m going out for a run. Give me a half-hour.”
“What is the name, and where do I find her?”
“Her name is Jennifer Hernandez, and she’s staying at the Amal Palace Hotel. Is that a problem?”
“No. It shouldn’t be. We have friends who work in maintenance. We’ll let you know. I’ll give you a call before we bring your guest over for her visit.”
“It’s nice doing business with you.”
“Likewise,” Sachin said before disconnecting.
“That was easy,” Cal said to himself, hanging up the receiver.
“of coursee I can see them,” Jack said. He was bending over Laurie, who was semi-recumbent on the examination table. Dr. Arun Ram was standing between her legs, which were draped with an examination sheet, directing the ultrasound probe with one hand and pointing at the screen with the other. He was a short man with honey-colored skin and remarkably dark, thick, medium-length, carefully groomed hair. He was also young: Jack guessed early thirties. What Jack noticed most was the singular gentleness and serenity he projected.
“I’m amazed I can see them so well,” Jack added with excitement. “Laurie, can you see them?”
“If you stop hogging the screen I can.”
“Oh, sorry,” Jack said. He backed up a foot or so. Using his index finger, he counted four in the left ovary alone.
“It’s a wonderful crop,” Arun agreed. His voice matched his composure.
“How much longer with the injections?” Jack asked.
“Let’s measure,” Arun said. Then, to Jack, he added, “Could you hold the probe while I get a ruler?”
“I guess,” Jack said, not sure he wanted to play doctor with his own wife. But he took the handoff of the probe from Arun, and he took it blindly. The image rapidly distorted.
“Careful!” Laurie complained.
“Sorry,” Jack said contritely. Watching the screen, he managed to reposition the probe where it had been. He felt nervous.
Arun opened the exam-table drawer and pulled out a ruler. Placing it directly on the screen, he read out the diameters of the follicles: “Seventeen millimeters, eighteen millimeters, sixteen millimeters, and seventeen millimeters. That’s terrific!” He put the ruler away. “I think we can substitute the gonadotropin trigger injection for your injection shot today.” He took the probe from Jack and removed it. He gave Laurie a reassuring pat on the top of her knee. “We’re done. You can get up, and we’ll meet in my office.” He waved for Jack to follow.
“The trigger will be today?” Laurie asked. “I’m thrilled.”
“We don’t need for them to be much bigger than they are,” Arun said from the doorway, gesturing for Jack to precede him. Inside his office, he moved a couple of chairs over to his desk. Jack took one. Arun sat down and recorded his finds in the chart he’d started for Laurie. “This looks like a very auspicious cycle, with four such healthy-looking follicles poised over the functioning oviduct. Dr. Schoener will be pleased. If the trigger shot is done today, which I’m going to recommend, then the fertilization should be tomorrow. Are we going to utilize intrauterine insemination, or what is your preference?”
“I think we should wait for Laurie,” Jack said.
“Fine,” Arun commented, finishing up and tossing the chart aside. “Did your wife happen to mention that there was a time I aspired to be a forensic pathologist here in India?”
“I don’t believe she did.”
“It’s not important. The reason I didn’t is because the facilities for forensic pathology have been traditionally very bad, for bureaucratic reasons.”
