She reached over and hoisted the top folder. 'Can you read and change diapers at the same time?'
'Absolutely not.'
'Then let me,' she said, motioning for the baby. 'You won't like it. It's messy.'
'You read the files, I'll handle Mr. Miles.'
'You're a poet.'
She motioned again for the child. Boldt unfastened the carrier and passed his son to her, along with the bag. 'Cloth diapers,' she noticed. 'Classy.'
'Environmentally sound. That's Liz-ever the proper mother and citizen. 'Read,' she chided. She didn't want to hear about Liz.
When she returned, wondering whether she could ever live with doing that several times a day, his face was buried in one of the files. The two others were spread open in front of him. Fast reader. Fast learner. Lou Boldt. 'How sure are you about this?' he asked. Accepting Miles, he thanked her and attempted to return him to the carrier. Fully awake, the boy struggled to be free, tying up Boldt's hands and attention. 'Cindy Chapman the woman who sought out The Shelter-is missing a kidney.' She touched the files. 'All three of these kids died from hemorrhaging associated with a,' and she quoted,' 'surgically absent' organ. Two kidneys: Walker and Sherman. Blumenthal was missing a lung. I think we may have a doctor selling stolen organs on the black market.'
'A black market for organs?'
She fingered the photocopies in front of her. 'Is it so impossible a thought? I have a half-dozen articles here: Wall Street Journal, New York Times, The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, fama, New England Journal of Medicine. In Third World countries, harvesting is an everyday occurrence. That's what it's called: organ harvesting. Nice ring to it, huh? Organized, well run. Quite the business. Fifteen thousand dollars a kidney-that's the going rate. Fifteen thousand. it's so obvious that something like this would grow out of the lack of donor organs. Transplant technology has outraced supply. It's all in here,' she said, again tapping her copies of the articles. 'There are not enough far- sighted people out there who think to become donors prior to their deaths. Livers, kidneys, lungs, hearts, ovaries, testicles, eyes, bone marrow, you name it. There's a shortage in nearly every category. And what happens when there's a shortage? It's simple economics. Third World countries are hit the worst because they lack the technology for life-support: the dialysis machines, the respirators. Egypt, India, Argentina, Brazil-kidneys practically trade on the open market. If you're an Egyptian farmer who's had a bad crop, you go into the city and sell one of your kidneys. You come home a few weeks later with ten years' worth of income. And when those organs are in short supply? Maybe the doctors there turn to their colleagues overseas.'
'Fifteen grand a kidney?'
'Lungs about the same. Livers and hearts go for ten to twenty times that.'
'But not here. Not in this country.'
'Not in my backyard? Come on! What would you pay to stay alive? What happens when you find yourself number one hundred and fifty on an organ donor list where they're averaging three transplants a month and your doctor has given you six months to live? You start making inquiries. You beg, borrow, or steal the money necessary, and you buy what no one will donate. You establish a market. Where there's demand, someone will supply. It never fails. If you're a doctor, can you imagine how frustrating it must be to see your patients die because so few people will take the time to fill out a couple of forms?'
'You're right about it giving us a way to investigate it.' 'Us? You said 'us.'' 'What you do is identify their method of selection.'
'Meaning?'
'If it is organized-if it is a business just as You've suggested-then this surgeon must have some way of identifying, of selecting his donors.'
'Meaning?' she asked, wanting to hear him think this through aloud. She could feel his enthusiasm. She almost had him. 'Listen, either they're stealing them, in which case Chapman and these others are innocent victims, or they're buying them, contracting them from people either desperate for money or sympathetic to their cause or both. Like your Egyptian farmer, right? Unfortunately, we don't know which. We need to establish that first. We need to know their game plan. How do they identify their donors? That comes first.'
'These organs are perishable goods,' she reminded. 'There are time factors involved.'
'Do they kidnap the donor, steal some kid off the streets? That's a hell of a risk to take.'
'They're runaways. Who's going to notice?'
'But why take that kind of risk if you can cut a deal instead? What if the donor comes into the plan willingly? That makes a lot more sense.'
'Cindy Chapman's a victim, Lou,' Daphne said obstinately. 'We don't know that. What if she offered to sell her kidney? What if it was voluntary? Runaway teenagers are not exactly long on cash.'
'I don't believe that.
Why use electroshock if they're part of your conspiracy? She sure as hell didn't volunteer for that.'
'Don't get all high and mighty, damn it. Your point is well-taken, okay? I agree with you. The electroshock doesn't fit. Okay?'
'You agree with me, but you won't help me.'
'I will help you.
All I can.'
'But you won't take it to the lieutenant?'
'I can't get that involved. Not yet, anyway.' He looked down, wiped some drool from the baby's mouth. 'Extenuating circumstances.' He added quickly, 'But I will help.'
'if Cindy Chapman dies, then will you take it to Shoswitz for me? Is that what you need, a fresh victim? She's in bad shape, you know.' 'You can really piss me off when you try.'
'Good. I'm trying real hard.'
'I noticed. Have you run Chapman's clothes through the lab?' he asked.
She had been withholding this and another file from him, hoping to time their delivery correctly and. sink the hook. Leave it to him to ask, she thought. 'Courtesy of the Professor,' she explained, referring to the head of the department's forensic sciences unit. She handed the first of the two files to Boldt. 'He rushed this for me.' It was the state lab's preliminary hairs and fibers report. 'I used your name,' she added reluctantly. She pulled both files to the table top, handing him only the one.
He opened it and read. The top of the page listed the identification numbers followed by how they had been received, in this case hand-delivered by Sgt. Daphne Matthews, SPD. The next section was divided into two columns: EVIDENCE DESCRIPTION and CONCLUSION. Boldt scanned the conclusions. He suggested, 'Lamoia could handle this.'
She answered quickly, 'As good as his instincts are, John is about ten years short on experience and a lifetime short on manners. He just doesn't have the qualifications you do.'
He waved a finger at her. 'You're playing with me again. 'I 'Don't you wish,' she teased. 'Not in your wildest dreams., It provoked a grin. 'What do you know about my dreams?' he teased right back. 'Animal hairs found on her jeans,' he said. 'We dismiss them. Too common. Blood type O-positive.' He rummaged through the other files before him. She filled in, 'These other three were also type O-positive.' She indicated the stack next to her. 'And when you read these medical stories, you'll understand why. Type O is the biggest blood group, the biggest market.'
He glanced up, understanding. 'They're all four the same blood type. They select their donors by blood type! That's our lead!'
'The Professor forwarded the animal hairs to the U-Dub,' she said, meaning the University of Washington, 'to attempt to identify the particular breeds,' 'You're getting off track!
It's the blood group match that's important. Let's stick with that for a minute!'
'The animal hairs are important too.'
'I can't get too excited over some animal hairs. We all have pets, and if we don't, our friends do. Most of us come in contact with pet hairs on a daily basis.'
'Most of us,' she agreed, handing him the last file, 'but not Cindy Chapman.'
He started to say something but caught himself and opened the file containing a copy of Cindy Chapman's hospital admission forns. Scanning the contents quickly, he said, 'You have been busy.'
'Allergies,' she hinted. She watched his eyes track down the form. 'Allergic to house pets,' he read aloud. 'Severe reactions. Shallow breathing, elevated pulse rate.' It was how she felt at the moment. 'There's no way she
