Cliffs. How critical was the child, in your estimation?”
“Surprisingly enough, seemingly not critical at all. He was dehydrated for sure but probably not enough to cause internal organ damage.”
“I’d guess that they probably took him to Hackensack University Medical Center. I can confirm that. Meanwhile, let me ask you a question. As far as you know, does your company, iPS USA, have anything to do with organized crime?”
Ben was stunned, and before he could help himself, he’d sucked in a tiny but audible gasp of air. The unexpected nature of the question had taken him completely off guard. Instantly recovering, he asked in the calmest voice he could muster, “Why would our biotech start-up, which is trying to cure degenerative disease for the sake of humanity, have anything at all to do with organized crime? Excuse me, even asking such a question is ridiculous.”
Tom raised his eyebrows slightly and commented, “It’s interesting your response to a question is a question, rather than a direct ‘no.’ ”
“It is not surprising that I might be shocked by a question connecting my company to organized crime when we were talking about organized crime being related to this mass murder,” Ben said, defending himself and his response. “Of course I would be taken aback. I think it is clear I came upon the scene totally unawares. I had absolutely no knowledge of this tragedy or anything possibly to do with it.”
Tom took Ben’s disclaimer in stride, and instead of responding, merely looked back at his notes. Ben felt his anxiety ratchet up another notch. He now had the feeling he was being played. He needed to get away; he needed time to think.
The officer dispatched to call Missing Persons rapped on Tom’s window. Tom lowered it and looked at him expectantly.
“They do have a body that fits the description,” the officer said. “It’s at the New York OCME.”
“Thank you, Brian,” Tom said. He looked over at Ben and elevated a single eyebrow. “I think we are making progress.” Turning back to the officer, he said, “Go back and find out where the boy from this disaster was taken.”
The officer did a kind of half-salute before returning to his squad car.
“Maybe, just maybe,” Tom commented, “we’ve solved the mystery of Satoshi, which I believe might ultimately provide key information for the death of the six people in this house.”
“Possibly,” Ben said without enthusiasm. A moment earlier he didn’t think he could possibly get more nervous. But he had been wrong. He didn’t see finding Satoshi as a positive step, at least not dead.
“I tell you what,” Tom said, as if sensitive to Ben’s mind-set. “I still have questions for you, but why don’t I let you go and see the child. I have to go inside and view a scene I don’t want to see. But you have to promise me two things. After you’ve seen the child, I want you to call and then go to the New York OCME over in the city and identify or not identify, as the case may be, the body they have in their cooler. Then I want you to come back here, or if I’m gone, drive out to the Bergen County police station, which is also in Hackensack. Is that a deal?”
“That’s a deal,” Ben said, eager to get away.
“Now, hold on for a minute! I’ll find out for sure where the kid was taken.” Tom climbed out of the car. Simultaneously, so did the investigator from the district attorney’s office, who had been listening in the backseat.
Ben straightened up and tried to calm himself. At least the conversation, or whatever it was, was over for now, and when it recommenced he’d have had time to think.
Ben started the car when Tom returned to the driver’s-side window. “As I suspected, the child was taken to Hackensack University Medical Center. I hope all is well with him. And here, take my card.” Tom handed over his card. “It’s got my mobile number. I want to hear immediately, yes or no, on the ID in the city.”
“Wait a second,” Ben said, just as Tom was about to walk away. “I have a suggestion. I’m worried the child might be in danger. Obviously, whoever killed the entire family would probably have wanted to kill the child as well, and if and when they hear about his existence, they might want to finish the job.”
“Good point,” Tom admitted. “Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll put a detail on him right away.”
The route to the Hackensack University Medical Center had been quite direct, and even though it required going through several small towns, Ben arrived in short order. With his M.D. license plates, he used the doctors’ parking lot near the emergency-room entrance even though he knew he shouldn’t.
Although Ben’s visit to the Machita residence was far more harrowing and unnerving, the hospital visit was not a whole lot better, given his mental status. But as troubling as the deaths at the residence were—if, in fact, Satoshi was dead—there was little risk involving a change in the status of the licensing agreement concerning the iPS key patents, a situation that would have been disastrous to iPS USA. Thanks to Satoshi’s insistence on a bit of estate planning, Ben had an ace in the hole, even without the wife’s signature on her will. He had Satoshi’s will and the trust document, which didn’t need the wife’s signature, both fully signed and executed, with the will creating a trust for the key patents and the trust document appointing Ben trustee. What that all meant to Ben was that after probate he would control the trust for the benefit of Shigeru, meaning there would be no challenge to the licensing agreement.
Unfortunately after the hospital visit Ben’s rosy understanding of the legal issues would be sorely undermined, and what had previously provided a modicum of comfort, the will and the trust document, he now feared might be more paper tigers than solid support for the status quo.
Ben had entered the emergency-room door and presented himself as Dr. Benjamin Corey to command more respect, as the ER was packed. Unfortunately, the ruse did not work with the harried emergency-room clerk, and Ben was forced to stand to the side and wait.
“I’m looking for a toddler who came in earlier,” Ben said authoritatively once he had the clerk’s attention. “He came in by ambulance. His name is Shigeru Machita; he’s about one and a half years old. Is he still here in the emergency room, or has he been admitted?”
The clerk, dressed in scrubs, was being unmercifully hounded by several of his coworkers, but to his credit he stayed to finish with Ben. “There’s been no Shigeru Machita since noon,” he said, looking up from the screen.
“There has to be,” Ben said. “The police told me he was coming here.”
“Could it be under another name?” Ben asked.
“If it is, you’ll have to tell me,” the clerk said.
“Of course,” Ben said, hitting his head with the heel of his palm. “How about a generic name, like Baby Jack?”
“Yes, here’s one!” the clerk said, before shouting across the registration area to a coworker that he’d be there in a second. “It’s a baby John Doe,” he said to Ben. “Could that be it?”
“Maybe,” Ben said. “What time did he come in?”
“Two-twenty-two this afternoon.”
“That’s about right,” Ben said. “Where is he?”
“He’s been taken up to pediatrics, room four-twenty-seven.”
“Gotcha,” Ben said. “How do I get there?”
The clerk gave rapid, complicated directions that concluded with the suggestion of following a blue line running on the floor. Ben forgot the directions and just followed the blue line on a labyrinthine route to a bank of elevators.
As he exited the elevator on the fourth floor and despite the chaos that reigned, one of the nurses from the nurses’ desk caught sight of him and called out, “Excuse me. Can I help you?”
Ben angled over to the desk. The woman’s nametag read SHEILA, RN.
“I’m Dr. Ben Corey. I’m here to see baby John Doe in room four-twenty-seven.”
“That’s nice,” Sheila said sincerely. She was a boxy woman with dark skin and mid-length brown hair heavily streaked with blond. “I’m the charge nurse on the floor. We were hoping someone would be coming in. The little
