Robin Cook - Marker

"What the hell are glandes?" Lou asked.

"It's plural for glans, or head of the penis."

"Ouch," Lou said, making a grimace of pain.

"I think these two boys made the fatal mistake of peeing in tandem on the third rail while standing either on the steel edge of the platform or on the rails themselves. There was such a good ground, the electricity arced up their urine streams and simultaneously electrocuted them."

"My good God!" Lou said, straightening up. "Remind me never to do that."

Lou stayed for the posts on the two boys, which went quickly. As Laurie had anticipated, there was visible evidence that the massive trauma the boys received occurred after their hearts had ceased to beat. While Laurie worked, she told Lou about the first case they had done, Patricia Pruit, and that as a consequence, her series of mysterious, inexplicable, unexpected deaths at the Manhattan General had risen to eight.

"Good grief," Lou responded. "Jack told me yesterday you had seven, and that he was coming around to your idea about a serial killer, but that the front office wasn't buying as of yet. What's Calvin's reaction now? Is the OCME willing to take a public stand?"

"Calvin doesn't know about the one this morning," Laurie said. "I don't know what his reaction will be, but I'm not optimistic. I'm afraid it's going to take some momentous event to get him to see the light, since no help has come from toxicology. When it concerns the Manhattan General, he has blinders on. He still thinks of it as the old, venerated academic center where he trained. The last thing he'd want to do is tarnish its reputation."

"If healthy people keep dying over there, its reputation is going to suffer, one way or the other. But let me know if he comes around to your way of thinking. Like I told Jack, with everything else that's happening at the moment, my hands are tied, at least officially. I'm up to my eyeballs with this Chapman case. If I don't come up with a suspect, I might be out selling pencils."

"Actually, I'm working with Dr. Roger Rousseau to generate some legitimate suspects, and he left me a voice message last night, saying he'd made some progress."

"I hate to hear you are 'working' with that guy, for obvious reasons. But if you and he can come up with some names, I can do something, even if it's not official."

"I think we already have one," Laurie said. She finished sewing up the last of the two boys and handed the instruments to Marvin. "Let's go ahead and put up the headless John Doe before the tourist." The tourist was the fourth case they planned on posting. He was a college student who had presumably died from acute alcohol toxicity. The level in his blood had already been shown to be off the charts. He'd been found in Central Park by an early-morning jogger.

While Marvin went out to get Sal to help him with the corpses of the two boys, Laurie continued to talk to Lou about her series. She explained her idea about the potential killer apparently moving from St. Francis to the Manhattan General, and that Roger was going to look into transferees, among other people, and might even have talked to some of them, including the anesthesiologist Najah.

"Wait a second!" He held up his hand. "Hold it right there. Are you telling me this boyfriend of yours is planning on approaching Najah and some of these other so-called suspects himself?"

"I believe so, yes," Laurie responded. She was caught off guard. She hadn't expected such a negative reaction from Lou.

"This is nuts," Lou said. "You know how I feel about amateur detective shenanigans. It's one thing to come up with some names as part of an armchair game, but it's something else entirely when it comes to actually approaching anybody."

"Why? You'd have to narrow it down to find out which ones could truly be suspects. Otherwise, it's pure conjecture."

"Jesus H. Christ! Laurie, I hate to hear you talking like this. Let's suppose for a second there really is a serial killer behind your so-called series. If there is and if he's not absolutely bonkers, then he could be extremely dangerous. The slightest provocation could push him over the edge."

Marvin and Sal came back into the autopsy room. While they moved the teenagers' corpses onto the waiting gurneys, Laurie and Lou stood silently. They were both self-conscious about Lou's sudden vehemence. When the door closed behind the techs pushing their gurneys, Lou cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to come on that strong. It's just that amateur sleuthing scares the bejesus out of me. The last thing I want you doing is risking your life like you did playing detective back during that Paul Cerino cocaine affair. Dealing with psychopaths is not for novices."

"I think I get your point," Laurie said.

"On a lighter note," Lou said, eager to change the subject, "I've been dying to ask about your dinner date with Jack last night. How'd it go? Are you guys going to bury the hatchet or what?"

Laurie didn't answer right away, and when she did, all she said was that the jury was still out. Lou was hardly satisfied, but his intuition told him to let it go.

Marvin and Sal returned with a single gurney, Marvin pulling, Sal pushing. After Marvin placed an X-ray he had under his arm on a neighboring surface, the two techs expertly transferred the headless and handless male corpse.

"I see what you mean," Laurie said after taking one look at the body. "It is remarkably clean." In sharp contrast to the teenagers' mangled bodies, there was no blood, even at the severed neck and wrists, which were cut off so sharply as to look like illustrations in an anatomy book. Sal took the gurney back out into the hall while Marvin put up the X-ray.

The two bullets stood out as pure white blotches in the gray-to-black field. One was a flattened irregular shape and the other normal. Laurie pointed to the misshapen slug in the middle of the torso. "My guess is that this one hit the spine." She then pointed to the defect in one of the vertebrae. "I'd say it ended up in the liver. The other one is in the mediastinum, in the center of the chest, and I wouldn't be surprised if we find it penetrated the aortic arch. That was the fatal shot."

"Looks like a nine-millimeter," Lou said.

"We'll see," Laurie said.

She went back to the body to start the external exam. While standing on the corpse's right with Marvin on the opposite side, Laurie asked the tech to roll the body toward him. She wanted to view the entrance wounds as well as photograph them. But when Marvin did as she asked, she caught sight of a small, intricate tattoo of an octopus in the small of the corpse's back.

Laurie staggered and sucked in a lungful of air. She reached out and grasped the table's edge to keep herself erect. Her eyes were fixated on the tattoo.

"Dr. Montgomery, are you okay?" Marvin asked.

Laurie didn't move. Although she had initially staggered, now she seemed frozen.

"Laurie, what's up?" Lou asked. He bent forward to try to see through her plastic face mask.

Laurie shook her head to break her momentary trance. She took a step back from the table. "I need a break," she said in a high, breathless voice. "This autopsy is going to have to wait." She turned on her heel, and headed for the door.

Both Marvin and Lou looked after her. Lou called her name, but she didn't answer. When the doors closed behind her, Lou looked at Marvin. "What's going on?"

"Beats me," Marvin said. He eased the corpse back to a supine position. He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "This has never happened before. Maybe she's sick."

"I think I'd better check," Lou said, and he started for the door.

Expecting Laurie to be in the corridor, Lou was surprised when he didn't see anyone. From where he was standing he could see all the way down to the security office. There didn't seem to be anyone in there, either. Confused as to what was going on, he walked down the length of the bank of small, refrigerated compartments where the bodies were stored prior to autopsy. When he reached the end, where there was a large walk-in cooler to his left, he was able to see to his right down into the supply room where the moon suits were stored. Although she was partly out of view, he was able to catch a glimpse of Laurie climbing out of her gear. When he got down there, Laurie was plugging her battery pack into the charger.