Michael Connelly - Blood Work

She said it with too much sarcasm and that annoyed McCaleb but rather than object, he just nodded.

“And that he got the names of these people in his group from a list of blood donors in the BOPRA computer?”

“Right.”

“But you don’t know how he got it.”

“We don’t know for sure. But we do know that BOPRA’s security system is highly vulnerable to compromise.”

From his pocket McCaleb took out the list that Graciela had printed at Holy Cross. He unfolded it and handed it to Fox.

“I was able to get that today and I don’t know the first thing about hacking into computers.”

Fox took the page and waved it at Graciela.

“But you had her to help.”

“We don’t know who this person is or who they had to help them. We have to assume that if this person has the connections and ability to hire a contract killer, then he or she could get into the BOPRA computer. The point is, it could be done.”

McCaleb pointed to the list.

“Right there is all that’s needed. Everybody on that list is in the group. He would pick one of the donors. He would pick somebody young, do some research. Kenyon was young and fit. A tennis player, equestrian. Cordell was young and strong. Anybody who watched him over some time would know he was fit. A surfer, skier, mountain biker. They both were perfect.”

“Then why kill them-as some sort of practice?” Fox asked.

“No, not practice. It was the real thing but each time things went wrong. With Kenyon the shooter used a fragmenting bullet that pulped his brain and he was dead before they could even get him to the hospital. The killer refined his method. He switched to a full metal jacket load that was fired across the front of the brain. A fatal injury, yes, but not instantaneous. A man who drove up called it in on a cellular phone. Cordell was alive. But the address got screwed up and the paramedics went to the wrong place. Meantime, time goes by, the victim dies at the scene.”

“And again the organs were never harvested,” Fox said, understanding now.

“I hate that word,” Graciela said, her first words in a long time.

“What?” Fox asked.

“Harvested. I hate that. These organs aren’t harvested. They’re given. By people who cared about other people. They aren’t crops on a farm.”

Fox nodded and looked silently at Graciela, seemingly taking her measure all over again.

“It didn’t work with Cordell but it was not because of the method,” McCaleb continued. “So the shooter just went back to his list of potential donors. He-”

“The list from the BOPRA computer.”

“Right. He goes back to the list and picks Gloria Torres. The process starts again. He watches, knows her routine, also knows she is healthy and will do.”

McCaleb looked at Graciela as he said this, afraid the harshness of it would bring another response. She remained quiet. Fox spoke.

“And so now you want to follow this trail of harvested organs and you think the killer-or the person who hired the killer-will have one of them. Do you realize what this sounds like?”

“I know how it sounds,” McCaleb said quickly before she could build on her doubts. “But there is no other explanation. We need your help with BOPRA.”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it. What are the odds that it could be just a coincidence that the same man-a contract killer, most likely-just happens to gun down three different people from the exact same one-in-two-hundred blood group? You couldn’t figure those odds with a computer. Because it can’t be coincidence. It’s the blood work. The blood work is the connection. The blood work is the motive.”

Fox walked away from them and to the window. McCaleb followed and stood next to her. The room looked down on Beverly Boulevard. He saw the string of businesses across the street, the mystery bookshop and the deli with the Get Well Soon! sign on the roof. He looked at Fox and it looked as though she was staring at her own reflection in the window.

“I have patients waiting,” she said.

“We need your help.”

“What exactly can I do?”

“I’m not sure. But I think you stand a better chance of getting information out of BOPRA than us.”

“Why don’t you just go to the police? They have the best chance. Why are you involving me?”

“I can’t go to them. Not yet. I go to them and I’m out of it, off the case. Think about what I just told you. I’m a suspect.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I know that. But they won’t. Besides, that doesn’t matter. This is personal. I owe it to Glory Torres and I owe it to Graciela. I’m not going to sit on the sidelines on this one.”

A small bit of silence slipped by.

“Doctor?”

Graciela had come up behind them. They turned to her.

“You have to help. If you don’t, then all of this-everything you do here-means nothing. If you can’t protect the integrity of the system you work in, then you have no system.”

The two women stared at each other for a long moment and then Fox smiled sadly and nodded.

“Go to my office and wait for me,” she said. “I have to see Mr. Koslow and one other patient. It will take me a half hour at the most. After that I’ll come to the office and make the call.”

THE COORDINATOR’S OFFICE.”

“Glenn Leopold, please, this is Bonnie Fox calling.”

They were in Fox’s office with the door closed. Fox had the phone speaker on so McCaleb and Graciela could listen. They had waited for her a half hour before she had come in. Her demeanor was different. She was still going to help but McCaleb noticed that she was more agitated than she had appeared when they had gathered in the empty patient room in the north tower. They had gone over a plan McCaleb came up with while waiting, Fox had taken a couple of notes to refer to and then placed the call.

“Bonnie?”

“Hi, Glenn, how are you?”

“I’m fine. What can I do you for? I’ve got about ten minutes before a meeting.”

“This shouldn’t take long. I’ve got a slight problem here, Glenn, and I think you might be able to help me.”

“Tell me.”

“I performed a transplant here February ninth-it was BOPRA file number ninety-eight thirty-six-and a complication has come up. What I’d like to do is speak with the surgeons who performed transplants with the donor’s other organs.”

There was a brief silence before Leopold’s voice came up on the speaker again.

“Uh, let’s see… I mean, this is kind of unusual. What sort of complication are we talking about, Bonnie?”

“Well, I know you have your meeting. To make it as brief as possible, the recipient’s blood group was type AB with CMV negative. The organ we received through BOPRA matched that-according to the protocol. But now-what are we, nine weeks or so post-op-our recipient has developed CMV virus and we are showing rejection in the blood work from the latest biopsy. I am trying to isolate how this has happened.”

More silence.

“Well, I think it would have come up before now if it came in with the heart.”

“That’s true but we weren’t looking for it before. We assumed based on the protocol that there was no CMV. Don’t get me wrong, Glenn, I am not saying it came in with the heart. But I have to find out where it came from and I want to cover everything. Best place to start is with the heart.”

“Are you trying to isolate this, as you say, at the request of attorneys? Because if that’s what you are doing, then I think I need to get my-”

“No, no, Glenn, this is just me. I need to know if the virus came in with the organ or there was-is-a problem right here.”

“Well, what blood did you use?”