Tess Gerritsen - Harvest

"At 10 p.m. on the night of your transplant," said Abby, "Bayside Hospital got a call that a donor had been found in Burlington, Vermont. Three hours later, the heart was delivered to our OR. The harvest was supposedly done at Wilcox Memorial Hospital, by a surgeon named Timothy Nicholls. Your transplant was performed, and there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. In so many ways, it was like every other transplant done at Bayside." She paused. "With one major difference. No one knows where your donor heart came from."

"You said it came from Burlington."

"I said it supposedly did. But Dr. Nicholls has vanished. He may be hiding. Or he may be dead. And Wilcox Memorial denies any knowledge of a harvest on that night."

Nina had retreated into silence. She seemed to be shrinking away into the woollen coat.

"You weren't the first one," said Abby.

The white face stared back with a numb expression. "There were others?"

"At least four. I've seen the records from the past two years. It always happened the same way. Bayside would get a call from Burlington that there's a donor. The heart is delivered to our OR sometime after midnight. The transplant's done, and it's all routine. But something's wrong with this picture. We're talking about four hearts, four dead people. A friend and I have searched the Burlington obituaries for those dates. None of the donors appear."

"Then where are the hearts coming from?"

Abby paused. Meeting Nina's disbelieving gaze she said, "I don't knOW."

The limousine had looped north and was once again skirting the Charles River. They were heading back towards Beacon Hill.

"I have no proof," said Abby. "I can't get through to New England Organ Bank, or anyone else. They all know I'm under investigation. They think of me as the crazy lady. That's why I came to you. That night we met in the ICU, I thought: There's a woman Il want as a friend." She paused. "I need your help, Mrs Voss."

For a long time, Nina said nothing. She was not looking at Abby, but was staring straight ahead, her face white as bleached bone. At last she seemed to come to a decision. She released a deep breath and said, "I'm going to drop you off now. Would this corner be all right?"

"Mrs Voss, your husband bought that heart. If he did it, so can other people. We don't know who the donors are! We don't know how they're getting them-'

"Here," Nina said to the driver.

The limousine pulled over to the kerb.

"Please get out," said Nina.

Abby didn't move. She sat for a moment, not speaking. The rain tapped monotonously on the roof.

"Please," whispered Nina.

"I thought I could trust you. I thought…" Slowly Abby shook her head. "Goodbye, Mrs Voss."

A hand touched her arm. Abby glanced back, into the other woman's haunted eyes.

"I love my husband," said Nina. "And he loves me."

"Does that make it right?" Nina didn't answer.

Abby climbed out and shut the door. The limousine drove away. As she watched the car glide into the dusk, she thought: I'll never see her again.

Then, shoulders slumped, she turned and walked away through the rain.

"Home now, MrsVoss?" The chauffeur's voice, flat and tinny through the speaker phone, startled Nina from her trance.

"Yes," she said. "Take me home."

She wrapped herself tighter in her cocoon of black wool and stared at the rain streaking across her window. She thought of what she would say to Victor. And what she would not, could not, say. This is what has become of our love, she thought. Secrets upon secrets. And he is keeping the most terrible secret of all.

She lowered her head and began to cry, for Victor, and for what had happened to their marriage. She wept for herself as well, because she knew what had to be done, and she was afraid.

The rain streamed like tears down the window. And the limousine carried her home, to Victor.

Shu-Shu needed a bath. The older boys had been saying this for days, had even threatened to toss Shu-Shu into the sea if Aleksei did not give her a good cleaning. She stinks, they said, and no wonder, with all your snot on her. Aleksei did not think Shu-Shu stank. He liked the way she smelled. She had not been washed, ever, and each scent she wore was like a different memory. The smell of gravy, which he'd spilled on the tail, reminded him of last night's supper, when Nadiya had served him double portions of everything. (And smiled at him, too!) The odour of cigarettes was Uncle Misha's smell, gruff but warm. The sour beet smell was from last Easter morning, when they had laughed and eaten boiled eggs and he had spilled soup on Shu-Shu's head. And if he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, he could sometimes detect another scent, fainter, but still there after all the years. It was not something he could classify as sour or sweet. Rather, he recognized it by the feelings it stirred in him. By the smell it brought to his heart. It was the smell of his babyhood. The smell of being caressed and sung to and loved.

Hugging Shu-Shu, Aleksei burrowed deeper under his blanket. I'll never let them give you a bath, he thought.

Anyway, there weren't so many of them left to torment him. Five days ago, another boat had appeared through the fog, and had drifted alongside them. While all the boys had scrambled to the rail to watch, Nadiya and Gregor had walked back and forth, calling out name after name. Nikolai Alekseyenko.t Pavel Prebrazhensky.t There were whoops of triumph, fists punched in the air as each name was called. Yes.t I have been chosen.t Later, the ones not chosen, the ones left behind, remained huddled at the rail, watching in silence as the motor launch carried the chosen boys to the other ship.

"Where do they go?" Aleksei asked.

"To families in the west," Nadiya answered. "Now come away from the rail. It's getting cold up here."

The boys didn't move. After a while Nadiya didn't seem to care if they stayed up on deck or not, and she left to go below. "Families in the west must be stupid," saidYakov.

Aleksei turned to look at him. Yakov was staring fiercely out to sea, his chin jutted out like someone hungry for a fight. "You think everyone's stupid," said Aleksei. "They are. Everyone on this boat is." "That means you too."

Yakov hadn't answered. He'd simply clutched the rail with his one hand, his gaze directed at the other ship as it glided back into the fog. Then Yakov had walked away.

Over the next few days, Aleksei scarcely saw him.

Tonight, as usual Yakov had disappeared right after supper. He was probably in his stupid Wonderland, Aleksei thought. Hiding out in that crate with all the mouse turds.

Aleksei pulled the blanket over his head. And that was how he fell asleep, curled up in his bunk with dirty Shu-Shu cradled against his face.

A hand shook him. A voice called softly in the night: "Aleksei. Aleksei."

"Mommy," he said.

"Aleksei, it's time to wake up. I have a surprise for you."

Slowly he drifted up through layers of sleep, surfacing into darkness. The hand was still shaking him. He recognized Nadiya's scent.

"It's time to go," she whispered.

"Where am I going?"

"You must get ready to meet your new mother."

"Is she here?"

"I'll take you to her, Aleksei. Out of all the boys, you've been chosen. You're very lucky. Now come. But be quiet."

Aleksei sat up. He was not quite awake yet, not quite certain if he was dreaming. Nadiya reached up and helped him off the bunk. "Shu-Shu," he said.

Nadiya put the dog in his arms. "Of course you can bring your Shu-Shu." She took his hand. She had never held his hand before. The sudden rush of happiness shook him fully awake. He was holding her hand and they were walking together, to meet his mother. It was dark and he was scared of the dark, but Nadiya would see to it that nothing happened to him. He remembered, somehow he remembered: This is how it feels to hold your mother's hand.