John Godey - The Snake

"Quite possible, indeed," he said aloud. He was still smiling when he addressed the nurse, but his voice had an edge of urgency. "Please find Dr. Shapiro for me."

"You want to talk to Dr. Shapiro on the phone?"

"Ask him to come to Emergency, please. Stat, please."

The encounter with the man had left the snake irritable, so that, when a small garter snake crossed its path, it took a striking position and hissed. In a different mood it would have recognized that the garter snake was no threat, and ignored it. But now it bit. It remained in striking position, head high, mouth open, and watched the garter snake writhe and twist in agony.

It was not tempted to eat the garter snake. Unlike many other species, which would eat other snakes, it preferred a diet of warm-blooded animals.

The snake went around the dying garter snake and into its adopted territory. It climbed the tree, spread itself loosely on a net of high branches, and went to sleep.

Dr. Mukerjee apologized to Dr. Shapiro for disturbing him, and then described the symptoms of the dead man lying on the table.

Dr. Shapiro looked startled. "We had one like that last night. Early this morning, rather." He walked to the table and frowned down at the body.

"It is thoroughly outlandish, of course," Dr. Mukerjee said, smiling, "but the clinical symptoms are remarkably consistent."

"Consistent with what?"

"I direct your attention to these perforations," Mukerjee said. "This pair here, and this second pair…" His long brown finger touched the white skin. "And this single one here, a seeming anomaly which I will presently explain. You will also notice, please, the series of tiny indentations below each puncture, some of which have begun to fade-"

"Yes, yes," Shapiro said. "Do you know what those punctures are, Dr. Mukerjee?"

"I believe they are fang marks."

"Of what sort of animal?" Shapiro spoke sharply. He was very quick and direct himself, and he suspected Mukerjee of milking the suspense.

"Of a poisonous snake, doctor," Mukerjee said.

Shapiro made an ambiguous gesture, then said, "I've never seen snakebite.

I presume you have?"

"Yes"

"What about the single perforation?" It was not an immediately pertinent question, and Shapiro was aware of it. He was temporizing, to allow his mind to catch up with the exotic diagnosis.

"I believe the snake struck twice successfully, and a third time inaccurately, so that only one of its fangs penetrated. The tiny small indentations are the impression of the animal's back teeth, which have no attack function."

"Okay," Shapiro said with a strained smile. "Somewhere in Manhattan there is a rattlesnake at large."

"Oh, no," Mukerjee said. "Rattlesnakes secrete a hemotoxic venom. In that case the flesh in the area around the punctures would be heavily swollen, discoloured, and quite painful. From the condition of these-the cleanliness, if you will-and, of course, the patient's symptoms and probable cause of death, this would be a neurotoxin venom. If I am to venture a guess as to the identity of the animal, I would say Naja Naja, doctor."

You're something of a pedant, Dr. Mukerjee, Shapiro thought irritably.

He said, "What is Naja Naja?"

"I have seen a number of the victims of its bites at home in India. It is the cobra." Dr. Mukerjee smiled. "Our national snake, as it were."

"A cobra? We're a long way from India, aren't we, doctor?"

"Outlandish, as I stated at the outset." Mukerjee's finger tapped the corpse's thigh. "The inner thigh is of course a rich vascular area. It is even possible that one of the fangs might have injected directly into a vein. Awfully bad luck. He could have died twenty minutes after being bitten."

"Outlandish is right," Shapiro said. "You're certain of your diagnosis, Dr. Mukerjee?"

"If I were in India, I would say yes, flat out. Here, I will simply say that the indications strongly suggest the bite of a snake distilling a powerful neurotoxin poison."

"Yes, well…" Shapiro looked at Mukerjee sharply. "Caution is certainly indicated in such an unusual diagnosis, and it does you credit.

This is not, as you say, India."

"Most assuredly it is not," Mukerjee said. He paused. "Did you not mention seeing a somewhat similar case last night?"

"Paralysis of the chest muscles. Semicornatose, so he couldn't tell us anything. He died on us."

"Ah," Mukerjee said. "Fang marks, too?"

"No, there weren't any…" Shapiro's voice faltered as he remembered the bloodstains on the patient's trousers. Damn that Papaleo! Mukerjee was looking at him politely, waiting for an answer. Well, he wasn't about to bad-mouth one of his interns to another physician. What he would say to Papaleo was something else again. "Not to my knowledge. We're waiting on the M.E.'s report. If that one and this-" He tilted his head toward the corpse. "Meanwhile, professional caution to one side, you're really convinced, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't stake my entire reputation on it, dont you know, but…"

Mukerjee shrugged.

"Yes, yes," Shapiro said impatiently. "The question is this-shall I tell the police about it?"

"I should do so," Mukerjee said.

Dr. Shapiro returned to his room and phoned the police, who said they would send someone around to see him. He phoned the Medical Examiner's office and requested a rush report on Torres, Ramon, and a second cadaver, Bamberger, Roderick, soon to arrive at the morgue; suspected injection of neurotoxic venom by snakebite. He tried to get hold of Dr. Papaleo but was told that he was not in the house, it was his night off.

It would be, Shapiro thought. He picked his copy of Beeson and McDermott out of his bookshelves and began to read up on snakebites and their treatment. Before he had gotten very far he was summoned to the main reception room of the hospital, where a stocky, hard-faced man wearing a flowered shirt and peg-bottom chino pants introduced himself as Detective Robert Dark.

Shapiro said, "Good evening."

"About this alleged snake?"

"Yes. We haven't established as an absolute fact that it is a snake, but from indications-"

"That was the squeal, doc, that somebody got bitten by a snake. You aren't sure?"

"That was my squeal, well, phone call, but I said we suspected snakebite."

"You're a doctor," Dark said. "You oughta know."

Shapiro felt himself growing annoyed. Dark's tone was peevish, even challenging. Tough guy. Or maybe, to be charitable, his precinct house wasn't air-conditioned. He said, "Detective Dark, two men have died of respiratory arrest that suggests paralysis due to injection of a neurotoxic substance. One occurred early this morning, the second less than an hour ago. On the body of the second one we found perforations that might have been inflicted by a snake's fangs."

"What about the first one? Did he have the perforations?"

Everybody asks the right questions, Shapiro thought drily. He said, "Because of certain factors, we haven't determined that yet." Certain factors: a first-year intern's failure to take off a pair of pants.

Dark shrugged. "These perforations. That means like holes. You think of overdose?"

"Overdose is contraindicated. The diagnosis of snakebite was made by an Indian doctor who is familiar with cobra bite."

"A cobra snake?" Dark almost smiled. "I can see why you're not standing on that diagnosis, doc."

"We're standing on it, officer, unless we're contradicted by the autopsy report. I phoned the M.E. and asked them to expedite a report. The soonest they can get around to it is early tomorrow morning." He smiled sourly. "They say they're very busy."

"Everybody's very busy," Dark said. "So what do you want me to do, doc?"

"Hell," Shapiro said, "that's your business. How do I know? Check out the various zoos, pet shops…