Robin Cook - Crisis

"Mr. Harold Langley has spoken to me about this issue at length," Walter said.

Thanks for telling me straight off, Jack thought but did not say. Instead, he asked, "Did he also mention there's a scheduling problem? We had planned on the exhumation happening today."

"Mr. Gallaudet has a conflict. I told him to call Mr. Langley this morning and explain the situation."

"I got the message. Why I came over here in person is to see if some small extra consideration for your efforts and for Mr. Gallaudet's could get the exhumation back on today's schedule. I'm afraid I must leave town this evening…" Jack trailed off with his vague offer of a bribe, hoping that covetousness was as much a part of Walter's foibles as gluttony seemed to be.

"What kind of extra consideration?" Walter asked, to Jack's gratification. The man's eyes flicked warily toward the woman, suggesting she was not to be party to his shenanigans.

"I was thinking of double the usual fee in cash."

"There's no problem from this end," Walter said. "But you'll have to talk with Percy."

"How about another backhoe?"

Walter chewed on the suggestion for a moment, then declined. "Sorry! Percy has a long association with Park Meadow. He knows and respects our rules and regulations."

"I understand," Jack said agreeably while guessing Percy's long association most likely had more to do with kickbacks than with rules and regulations. But Jack was not going to belabor the issue unless he struck out with Percy. "Word is that Mr. Gallaudet is doing work on-site as we speak."

"He's up by the big maple tree with Enrique and Cesar, preparing for a noontime burial."

"Who are Enrique and Cesar?"

"They are our caretakers."

"Can I drive up there?"

"By all means."

As Jack drove up the hill, the rain lessened and then conveniently stopped. He was relieved, since he was driving without a passenger-side window, thanks to Franco.

Jack turned off the windshield wipers. As he rose, he got a progressively better view of the surrounding area. To the west near the horizon was a band of clear sky promising better weather in the near future.

Jack found Percy and the others near the crest of the hill. Percy was in the glass-enclosed cab of his backhoe, scooping out a grave, while the two caretakers looked on, leaning on long-handled shovels. Percy had the backhoe's scoop down in the deep trench, and the vehicle's diesel engine was straining to draw it near and then up and out. The fresh soil was piled in a cone on a large, waterproof tarpaulin. A white pickup truck with the cemetery's name stenciled on the door was pulled to the side.

Jack parked his car and walked over to the backhoe. He tried to get Percy's attention by shouting his name, but the roar of the diesel drowned him out. It wasn't until he rapped on the glass of the cab that Percy became aware he was being accosted. Percy immediately eased up on the controls, and the diesel's roar became a more bearable purr. Percy opened the cab's door.

"What's up?" he yelled as if the backhoe's engine was still making considerable racket.

"I need to talk to you about a job," Jack yelled back.

Percy bounced out of the cab. He was a short, squirrelly man who moved in sudden, quick jerks and had a perpetually questioning expression on his face, with fixed raised eyebrows and a furrowed forehead. His hair was short but spiked, and both forearms were heavily tattooed.

"What kind of job?" Percy asked.

Jack went through an even more elaborate introduction and explanation than he had used with Walter Strasser, in hope of evoking whatever pathos Percy might have possessed in order to reschedule Patience Stanhope's resurrection for that day. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

"Sorry, man," Percy said. "After this job, I got a buddy with a backed-up sewer and newborn twins."

"I heard you were busy," Jack said. "But as I told Mr. Strasser, I'm willing to pay double the fee in cash to get it done today."

"And what did Mr. Strasser say?"

"He said there was no problem from his end."

Percy's eyebrows hiked up a smidgen as he mulled over Jack's offer. "So you are willing to pay twice the cemetery fee and twice my fee?"

"Only if it gets done today."

"I still have to dig out my buddy," Percy said. "It would have to be after that."

"So what time would you be able to do it?"

Percy pursed his lips and nodded his head as he pondered. He checked his watch. "For sure, it would be after two."

"But it will get done?" Jack questioned. He had to be certain.

"It'll get done," Percy promised. "I just don't know what I'm going to run into with my buddy's sewer. If that goes fast, I could be back here around two. If there's a problem, then it's anybody's guess."

"But you'll still do it even if it is late in the afternoon."

"Absolutely," Percy said. "For twice my usual fee."

Jack stuck out his hand. Percy gave it a quick shake. While Jack returned to his beat-up car, Percy climbed back into his backhoe's cab. Before Jack started the engine, he called Harold Langley.

"Here's the story," Jack said in a voice that implied there was no room for discussion. "We're back on for digging up Patience sometime after two this afternoon."

"You don't have a more precise time?"

"It's going to be after Mr. Gallaudet finishes what he has scheduled. That's all I can tell you at the moment."

"I only need a half-hour's notice," Harold said. "I'll meet you graveside."

"Fine," Jack said. He struggled to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Considering the fee he would be paying the Langley-Peerson Funeral Home, he felt Harold should be the one out running around and strong-arming Walter Strasser and Percy Gallaudet.

With the sound of Percy's backhoe grinding away, Jack tried to think of what else he had to do. He checked his watch. It was close to ten thirty. The way things were going, Jack's intuition told him that he'd be lucky to get Patience Stanhope back to the Langley-Peerson Home in the mid- to late afternoon, which meant that Dr. Latasha Wylie might be available. He wasn't sure her offer to help was entirely sincere, but he thought he'd give her the benefit of the doubt. With help the case would go faster, and he'd have someone to bounce ideas off of and to offer opinions. He also wanted the bone saw she offered to bring. Although he didn't think that the brain would be important in this particular case, Jack hated to do anything half-assed. More important, he thought there might be a chance he would want to use a microscope or a dissecting scope, and Latasha's presence would make that a viable possibility. Most important was her boss's offer of help with toxicology, which Latasha would be able to make happen. Now that Jack had the idea of an overdose or a wrong medication given at the hospital, he definitely wanted a toxicology screen, and he'd need it done immediately for it to be included in the report.

Such thoughts made Jack concede a distinct possibility that he had been unconsciously avoiding, namely, that there was a good chance he might not make the last shuttle flight from Boston to New York, meaning he'd be forced to fly in the morning. Since he knew the first flights were at the crack of dawn, there was no worry about making the one thirty church service, even with a stop at the apartment for his tuxedo. The concern was telling Laurie.

Acknowledging that he was not up to such a conversation and rationalizing that he didn't know for sure he wouldn't make the flight that evening, Jack opted not to try to phone at that time. He rationalized further that it would be far better to speak to her when he had definitive information.

Leaning to the side to facilitate getting his wallet from his back pocket, Jack got out Latasha Wylie's card and dialed her cell number. Considering the time, he wasn't surprised he got her voicemail. Undoubtedly, she was in the autopsy room. The message he left was simple. The exhumation was delayed, so the autopsy would be late in the afternoon, and he'd love to have help if she was inclined. He left his cell phone number.