Robin Cook - Death Benefit

“How does that thing work, then?”

“Look it up online. Like I did.”

It made George uncomfortable that Pia was being so short with this guy. As his family was blue-collar, George felt a kinship with people like maintenance workers.

Disappointed at not finding any contamination in the biosafety unit, Pia was beginning to feel a big letdown. Yet there was one other place she wanted to check: Rothman’s office. Besides the biosafety unit and the organ bath unit, that was the only other place where both Rothman and Yamamoto spent any time. The problem was Marsha and her guard-dog mentality. Even with Rothman gone, she suspected Marsha would be Marsha.

As Pia and George returned to the lab proper, Pia was running through her mind possible ways to handle Marsha. Luckily the problem solved itself. Marsha was no longer sitting at her desk. Pia guessed and hoped she’d taken a late lunch like Spaulding.

With Marsha no longer standing guard, Pia and George hustled into Rothman’s inner office. Inside, there had obviously been some packing going on because scattered around were open cardboard boxes half full of books and papers. Pia ran the probe around the desk, the shelving behind the desk, the couch, and the coffee table where Rothman’s guests, usually journalists, would sit and hope that they would be the one to breach Rothman’s famous guard. They were inevitably disappointed. Next they tried Rothman’s private bathroom, which his celebrity status had afforded him; no other lab had a bathroom like this. But the Geiger counter stayed mostly silent except for the background crackle, just like in the biosafety unit.

Pia almost forgot about it but there was one more room-not so much a room as a storage area, where Rothman used to keep supplies scientific and secretarial. The place was stacked with toilet paper and paper towels, cases of beakers and test tubes, reams of paper, and old files. And here also was Rothman’s beloved Nespresso machine. Well, maybe, thought Pia. Just maybe.

There were a few wayward clicks from the Geiger counter next to the coffee and cappuccino maker that made Pia’s pulse pick up speed. Next to the coffeemaker was a dish towel, folded in half and carefully spread out in a small space between the coffeemaker and the coffee fixings themselves. The towel was supporting four white porcelain coffee cups: two espresso size and two regular size. They were sitting upside down. There were a few more clicks as Pia ran the probe over the bottom of the two regular coffee cups. Then she held the counter in her left hand and turned the cups over. She put the probe into one cup, then another. There was definite activity. It wasn’t off the chart but there was more activity in the cups than in the rest of the lab.

“They got Litvinenko with his tea,” Pia said excitedly. “Maybe they used the coffee here. It would explain how they both got hit at the same time and no one else was affected.”

“Doesn’t sound like much radiation. You think it’s significant?”

“It’s not much, but it is registering alpha particles. The cups were probably washed but there’s still something left. Anyway it’s definitely significant. Let’s get out of here.”

Pia took one of the coffee cups and held it gingerly by the handle. She took a padded envelope, slipped the cup inside, and put it in the reusable shopping bag in which she’d brought the Geiger counter.

George and Pia reversed their steps and emerged into the main part of the lab. Unfortunately they were in for a surprise. Marsha had apparently not gone for a late lunch, and Spaulding had returned from his. Both of them, with indignant expressions, blocked their way. Spaulding in particular had his hands on his hips and glared at Pia. “How dare you!” he said haughtily. “I told you not to come back here. And what are you doing with that?” He pointed at the Geiger counter.

Pia motioned for George to follow her. Her intention was not to engage them in conversation. She started to skirt Spaulding, but he grabbed her arm. Protectively, George moved to get in between them.

“It’s all right, George,” Pia said in a calm voice. “Arthur, let go of my arm or I’ll file a complaint with the medical center authorities for sexual harassment.”

Spaulding let go of Pia’s arm. “Whose Geiger counter is that? Does it belong to this lab?” He was sputtering.

“Don’t worry, Arthur, we signed it out from the appropriate department.”

“But what are you using it for in my lab? I demand you tell me.”

“It’s a bullshit detector, Arthur. Oh, look.” Pia held the sensor up to Arthur’s face and it crackled with its background noise. “It appears to be working just fine after all.”

Pia pushed past Spaulding and shot Marsha an indifferent look before leaving the office.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER NEW YORK CITY MARCH 25, 2011, 2:48 P.M.

George was relieved to get away from Spaulding and the lab unscathed and hoped their trespass wouldn’t be communicated to Bourse. He hustled to catch up with Pia and found her waiting for an elevator.

“Third strike you’re out with that guy, and you’re at oh-and-two. Now you really should stay away from him.”

“That’s okay,” said Pia, “I have no reason to go back to the lab. We picked up some clicks from the coffee cups, but it was hardly what I was hoping for. I don’t know if that’s going to be conclusive enough. We need more evidence.”

“I was worried you were going to challenge Spaulding about the freezer log.”

“I thought of it. He’s such an ass. He has no authority to bar me from anywhere. I have no idea if what we found in the storage facility has any relevance whatsoever. If someone used a sample of salmonella from the freezer to infect Rothman and Yamamoto, there’s no way we’re really going to know.”

“So do you really think Spaulding had something to do with Rothman’s death?”

“If he did, he was a very small part of something larger. He’s not smart enough to think that up all by himself.”

Pia thought about what that might imply, about who might possibly be involved if there was a broad conspiracy. If Spaulding had been recruited, anyone could be a threat to her, a thought that made her shudder. She felt extraordinarily vulnerable, as much as or more than anytime during her childhood. As difficult as it was, she just had to keep her nerve and find some more evidence.

“George, can I stay in your room tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course you can,” George said. He was pleased she was asking. He only wished the circumstances were different.

When they reached the street, George expected Pia to head back to the dorm. Instead she accompanied him toward the hospital. It was raining and the wind was blowing sideways. People were moving along with their heads down, collars turned up against the cold.

“So you’re not satisfied with the readings from the coffee cups?” George said. “You don’t think it’s enough to go to the media with?”

“I really don’t think so. The few clicks we heard might not be that uncommon. I really don’t know. The cups obviously were rinsed out, I think, but not scrubbed clean. I want to check the infectious disease ward. The killer may have been able to clean up after himself at the lab, but they wouldn’t have been able to get onto the ward. Unless they have people on a cleaning crew.”

Which was entirely possible, thought Pia.

“So that’s where we’re going?” George asked. He checked his watch. He still had time before the lecture he had to attend.

“Yes.”

They reached the ward and quickly saw the futility of the mission. There were new patients in the rooms that had been occupied by Rothman and Yamamoto. An infectious disease ward had to be kept spotless because of the nature of the illnesses and infections treated there. The hospital was always aggressive with its general precautions, here even more so.