Kathy Reichs - Flash and Bones

“You have dental records?”

“They’re coming.”

“Any reason to doubt Toczek’s story?”

“Williams and Randall didn’t think so. They grilled him so hard I thought the poor bastard would puke on his shoes.”

“I suspect we’ll have the pleasure of their company in the very near future.”

I was right. Mrs. Flowers announced their arrival at eleven-fifteen.

I was placing the last of Gamble’s cranial fragments into a boiler basket for final removal of flesh. Hawkins was shooting X-rays of his teeth. Larabee was stitching the Y on his chest.

Williams and Randall cooled their heels in reception while the boss and I showered and changed from surgical scrubs. The four of us then gathered in Larabee’s office.

Our visitors wore identical frowns. Annoyed at having to wait? Unhappy with developments in the investigation? With life in general? Because of their arrogance, I couldn’t have cared less.

Larabee’s face was also unnaturally stiff. Lack of sleep? Or had the autopsy revealed something disturbing?

As usual, Williams lasered straight to the point. “What did you find?”

Larabee stiffened at the man’s brusqueness. “Death due to exsanguination resulting from massive cranial trauma and decapitation.”

“Did the body show any defensive injuries?”

If the question surprised Larabee, he didn’t let on.

“I observed bruising in the right wrist area and a slight abrasion on the back of the right hand. Both injuries appeared to have occurred shortly before death. I cannot conclusively attribute them to any specific cause.”

“Anything else?”

“The stomach and intestinal linings were severely inflamed. I noted internal bleeding, widespread irritation of the mucous membranes, and early signs of vascular collapse and multiorgan failure. The stool that I collected contained blood.”

“So Gamble was sick.”

“He was probably suffering from excessive thirst, a sore throat, perhaps difficulty swallowing. He may have had nausea, abdominal cramping, vomiting, diarrhea, or a combination of these symptoms. It’s possible he was experiencing general weakness, perhaps drowsiness and disorientation.”

“What’s your diagnosis?” Williams asked.

“The configuration could mean many things. I’ve taken samples. Until I have tox results, I can’t be sure.”

Larabee paused a moment before continuing.

“What I find noteworthy is that the pathological fingerprint presenting in Wayne Gamble is identical to that which presented in the landfill John Doe.”

What the flip? The landfill John Doe had been poisoned with ricin. Was Larabee suggesting the same thing had happened to Gamble?

The special agents locked eyes for what seemed a very long time. Finally Williams nodded.

Randall withdrew a paper from the pocket of his really dark suit. Half rising, he tossed it onto the desk.

As Larabee read, my mind flew in a zillion directions. I pictured the empty water bottles, the tissues, and the Pepto in Gamble’s car. The man had called me and I’d blown him off. Once more, I had to hammer back the guilt.

“So.” Larabee looked up and gave a slow roll of his shoulders. “What now?”

“GAMBLE’S SYMPTOMS FIT WITH ABRIN POISONING, AM I CORRECT?”

Abrin? I was expecting ricin.

“Yes,” Larabee said.

“What can you tell me about it.” Williams laced his fingers and dropped his hands onto his genitals.

“Abrin is also known as agglutinin or toxalbumin. It’s a highly toxic lectin found in the seeds of Abrus precatorius, the rosary pea.”

“How does it work?”

“Like ricin, abrin attacks cells from the inside, inhibiting protein synthesis and causing the cells to die. As the toxin penetrates the body, more and more tissues are destroyed. This leads to organ failure and eventual death.”

“How quickly?”

Larabee shrugged one shoulder. “Hours or days. It depends on the dose and the route of exposure.”

“Route of exposure?”

“One could touch a surface on which abrin particles or droplets have landed, or particles or droplets could land on the skin or in the eyes. One could inhale abrin if it’s in the form of a mist or powder. One could ingest it if it’s in food or water.”

“That’s it?”

“I suppose pellets, or abrin dissolved in a liquid, could be injected into a person’s body.”

“How common is accidental exposure?”

“Not common, though it happens.”

“Give me a scenario.”

“Rosary pea seeds are used to make jewelry and percussion instruments, mostly in India or Indonesia. I think the products are illegal in this country. Anyway, there have been cases in which broken seeds have exposed the wearer.”

“So, in all likelihood, it would take a deliberate act to obtain abrin, either from rosary pea seeds or from some other source, and use it to poison someone?”

“In all likelihood. Now, I want to know—”

“If ingested, how much is required to kill a human being?”

“Very little.”

Williams curled his fingers in a “give me more” gesture.

“One seed would probably do it.” Larabee tapped the paper on his blotter. “Now. My turn. How was this sample obtained?”

Williams answered with carefully chosen phrasing. “Early this morning, Special Agent Randall and I entered an unlocked vehicle licensed to Wayne Gamble and collected a coffee mug clearly visible through an open window.”

“Your lab has an amazingly fast turnaround time.” I couldn’t help myself.

“This case has top priority.”

“Why is that?”

“The FBI has obtained information that”—Williams paused for another vetting—“bumped our request to the front of the queue.”

“This is your interpretation of normal professional exchange?” Disdain chilled my words.

Larabee had had it. Before Williams could respond, he jumped in. “Dick with this office, you’ll wish you were working a coal mine in Guizhou province.”

Williams and Randall exchanged another of their Men in Black glances. Then Williams graced us with a crumb of an explanation.

“Ted Raines works at the CDC but supplements his income with part-time employment at Emory University. The project on which he is a lab technician is funded by the U.S. Army Zumwalt Countermeasures to Biological and Chemical Warfare program. The project’s research focuses on the fate and mobility of environmentally dispersed phytotoxins.”

“Such as ricin and abrin,” I said.

“Yes.”

“So Raines has access to these substances.”

“Theoretically.”

For a full minute we all let that percolate. Down the hall, I heard my office phone ring.

I broke the silence. “The landfill John Doe showed signs of ricin poisoning. Wayne Gamble shows signs of abrin poisoning. Cindi Gamble and Cale Lovette disappeared in 1998. Ted Raines has now vanished. You believe these facts are interrelated?”

“That is correct.”

“How?”

“The FBI would very much like to know.”

“Why did the FBI order my John Doe torched?” Larabee spat the letters as though they were a bad taste on his tongue.

“That is hardly a fair assessment.”

“Why was the Lovette-Gamble file confiscated?” I asked.

“I cannot confirm bureau involvement in that.”

“You had that one all loaded up.” Larabee was growing more steamed with each of Williams’s evasive replies. “Tell me, then. What is the FBI doing to resolve this whole mess?”

“The bureau is working with local law enforcement to determine Mr. Raines’s whereabouts.”