Lumaga shook his head emphatically and wagged a finger at the man. “I don’t know who you’ve been speaking to. Even if I knew the answer, I wouldn’t talk publicly about the health of children. In my opinion, you shouldn’t ask this kind of question. Do you have children?”
“You’re asking me?” the journalist said.
“Yes, I’m asking you.”
“Well, I’m not going to talk about my family.”
Lumaga said, “You’ve made my point. Next question.”
A woman asked whether the girls had provided a description of their kidnappers.
“I can’t possibly comment on that,” Lumaga said.
A man asked, “Are the girls staying in Italy or are they going back to the United States?”
“There are no plans for them to leave Italy at this time.”
Lumaga seemed to be purposely avoiding taking a question from a man in the front of the scrum who kept his hand in the air while others were speaking and who kept saying, “Hey, Major, why don’t you call on me?” whenever Lumaga pointed to someone else. Marcus would later learn that the guy was Gino Forconi, a reporter for a major paper in Naples who was known for his aggressive style and someone Lumaga considered to be an agent provocateur, a real troublemaker.
Lumaga finally relented and said, “Okay, Gino, go ahead.”
“Thank you, Major. I thought you didn’t love me anymore. Can you tell me why an American private security specialist hired by the family has been given unprecedented access to the Carabinieri investigation, including witness interviews?”
Lumaga shot him a caustic look. “You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told.”
“You’re denying it?” the reporter asked.
“I’m not going to comment on this kind of gossip.”
“But why not? He’s standing right over there,” Forconi said, pointing at Marcus, and soon, most of the cameras were pointed in his direction.
Lumaga leaned into the microphone and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the press conference.”
Marcus ducked back inside the headquarters with Odorico where Lumaga caught up with them. He was red in the face angry.
“The hospital staff talk to the media. The police staff talk to the media. The whole fucking world talks to the media. How am I supposed to conduct an investigation? And this guy, Forconi, he’s the worst. Every time we’ve got a sensitive case in Calabria, he slithers south to make things difficult. A few years ago, the ’Ndrangheta kidnapped the son of a businessman, and Forconi convinced the family to stop cooperating with the police. He wanted to be the intermediary with the gangsters. We got the boy back, but because of his interference, I’m convinced it took much longer. I wanted to arrest the bastard, but the judge didn’t want to charge a journalist. Fabiana, you’re from Naples. You must know him.”
“Sure. Everyone knows Gino,” she said.
Marcus asked, “Is this going to cause you any problems, Roberto?”
He replied with a Lumaga shrug and said, “As long as you’re helpful to this investigation, you’re on the team. The second you’re a dead weight, I’m sorry, you’re off.”
Marcus’s phone chirped with a text. He glanced at it and said, “I’ve got to go back to the hotel.”
“What’s going on?” Lumaga asked.
“Just trying not to be a dead weight.”
*
Mickey was holed up at the Excelsior Hotel, a short walk from the girls’ hospital, working his phone. He had put out feelers among his circle of Chicago movers and shakers, looking for the best pediatric hematologist-oncologist in the city. The unanimous opinion was that it was Jessica Bingham, the head of the department at the Lurie Children’s Hospital.
When he finally got through to her, Bingham started by telling him that in addition to his call, she had been contacted by both US senators from Illinois, three congressmen, and the governor.
“You must be an important fellow,” she said.
“I’m not feeling all that important. I’m feeling like a scared grandfather.”
“Why don’t you let me know what’s going on?”
He started by telling her that both his granddaughters were in a hospital in the south of Italy, diagnosed with chronic myeloid leukemia.
“I’m sorry, did you say both of them? Two simultaneous cases?”
“That’s correct, Doctor.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that. How old are they?”
The question caught him flat-footed. Should he tell her they were eight and twelve or four and eight? He opted for this: “You may have heard about them. Victoria and Elizabeth disappeared four years ago with their parents.”
“Wait, of course!” Bingham said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t put two and two together.”
“That’s all right. Anyway, they were four and eight when they were abducted. We’ve just gotten them back but they are ill. The doctors at the Morelli Hospital here in Reggio Calabria made the diagnosis.”
“I see. Do you have any of their records for me to review?”
“I’m sure I can get them.”
“In the interim, how can I help you?”
“Well, my druthers would be to bundle them up on my private plane and get them to your hospital, but for a variety of reasons, they can’t leave Italy. So, I’m looking for a couple of things from you. I’d like your opinion about the treatment and prognosis for this kind of leukemia. And I’d like your recommendation on the best CML doctors in Italy.”
“Please understand, Mr. Andreason, that without seeing your granddaughters and reviewing their labs, I can only speak in generalities. For children, particularly young children, this is a rare cancer. Only one child their age out of two million will get CML each year. To see two simultaneous cases among siblings would be astronomically rare and would point, in my mind, to a specific environmental exposure, such as an unknown toxin. To your knowledge, have they been exposed to something?”
“I’d say that’s unclear at this point,” Mickey said.
“All right. Well, in general, kids with CML have more aggressive disease than adults. Patients with CML have an abnormal gene called BCR-ABL that makes a tyrosine kinase protein by the same name. Sorry for being technical.”
“It’s all
