Robin Cook - Foreign Body

Inside the lobby they hesitated. “Are you hungry?” Neil asked.

“Not at all,” Jennifer admitted. “I feel like I ODed on caffeine.”

“What would you like to do? Or would you like me to make a suggestion, since you’re so wired?”

“The latter,” Jennifer responded without hesitation. She didn’t feel capable of thinking about practical issues.

“When I checked in last night, I was told they have a full spa with weights, stationary bikes, the works. Do you have some gym clothes?”

“I do.”

“Perfect. Maybe a little workout is what you need. After we do that, maybe you’ll be hungry for something, and if so, we can have it out by the pool. Then, later this afternoon, if you are up to it, we could go over and meet with someone in the consular section at the American embassy. They can give you their take on the episode in the bazaar and what you should do.”

“I don’t know if I want to go the embassy, but the idea of a workout and going out to the pool was my original plan. I’m definitely up for it.”

“Miss Hernandez!” a voice called out. Jennifer turned in its direction. She could see one of the concierges waving a slip of paper. She excused herself from Neil and stepped over to his desk.

“You are back early,” Sumit said. “I hope you enjoyed your sightseeing.”

“It wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” Jennifer said, reluctant to tell him exactly what had happened.

“I’m very sorry,” Sumit said. “Is there something we could have done differently?”

“I think it was my problem,” Jennifer admitted, and then changed the subject. “Do you have something for me?”

“Yes, we do. We got this urgent message for you. You are to call Kashmira Varini, and here is the message and the number.” Jennifer took the number. She was vexed to be bothered. On her way back to Neil, she opened the message. It said, “We have arranged to do something very special for your grandmother. Please call Kashmira Varini.” Jennifer stopped and reread the message. She was mystified. The first thing that went through her mind was that perhaps they had seen the light and were planning on doing an autopsy. Continuing on, she showed the message to Neil.

“This is the lady who’s been my bête noire,” Jennifer said.

“Give her a call!” Neil responded, handing the paper back.

“You think so? I just cannot believe that she might be doing something appropriate.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

The two of them walked back to the concierge desk. Jennifer asked if there was a phone in the lobby that she could use to make a local call. Without a second’s hesitation, Sumit grabbed one of the several phones he had, lifted it up on top of the counter, and gave it a push toward Jennifer. As if that wasn’t enough, he lifted the receiver, handed it to her, and then punched an outside line with his index finger. All this was done with a gracious smile.

Jennifer tapped in the number and stared up at Neil while the call went through. She truly did not know what to expect.

“Ah, yes,” Kashmira said when Jennifer identified herself. “Thank you for getting back to me. I have excellent news. Our CEO, Rajish Bhurgava, has arranged something extraordinary for your grandmother. Have you ever heard of the burning ghats of Varanasi?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Jennifer responded.

“The city of Varanasi, or Banaras, as the English called it, or Kashi, as the ancients did, is by far India’s holiest Hindu city, with a religious legacy that goes back more than three thousand years.”

Jennifer shrugged at Neil, indicating she still had no idea what the hospital had in mind.

“The city is sanctified by Shiva and the Ganges and is by far the most sacred place for rites of passage.”

“Perhaps you could tell me how this all relates to my grandmother,” Jennifer said impatiently, recognizing it had nothing to do with an autopsy.

“Of course,” Kashmira said enthusiastically. “Mr. Bhurgava has arranged something unheard of for your grandmother. Although the burning ghats of Varanasi are reserved for Hindus, he has obtained permission for your grandmother to experience her rite of passage in Varanasi. All I need is for you to come to the hospital and sign a release.”

“I don’t mean to offend anyone,” Jennifer said, “but whether Granny is cremated in Varanasi or New Delhi doesn’t make a lot of difference to me.”

“Then you don’t understand. Those people cremated in Varanasi gain particularly good karma and a markedly good rebirth in the next life. We just need your permission to proceed.”

“Mrs. Varini,” Jennifer said slowly, “tomorrow morning we will be coming to the hospital. I will be with my medical examiner friends, and we will come to some kind of agreement.”

“I believe you are ill-advised not to take this special opportunity. There will be no cost. We are doing this as a favor to you and your grandmother.”

“As I said, I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I appreciate efforts on my behalf, but I would have preferred an autopsy. The answer is no.”

“Then I must inform you that the Queen Victoria Hospital has gone to the courts, and we imminently expect, around noon tomorrow, a writ of authority from a magistrate to remove, send to Varanasi, and cremate your grandmother, Mr. Benfatti, and Mr. Lucas. I am sorry that you have pushed us to this extent, but your grandmother’s body, as well as those of the others, is a threat to the institutions’ well-being.”

Jennifer’s head rebounded slightly with the force of the disconnect. She handed the phone back to Sumit and thanked him. To Neil she said, “She hung up on me. They are going to get legal permission to remove Granny tomorrow and have her cremated.”

“Then it’s a good thing your friends are coming in tonight.”

“You can say that again. If I were here on my own, I have no clue what I’d do.”

“Then it’s a good thing...” Neil said, teasing Jennifer by actually repeating his comment the second time as she’d rhetorically asked him to do.

“That’s quite enough!” she said with a suppressed laugh, giving his arm a shake with both hands.

“Why don’t we head up to our rooms and change into some exercise clothes.”

“That’s your best suggestion so far,” Jennifer said, and they both headed for the elevators.

October 18, 2007

Thursday, 2:17 p.m.

New Delhi, India

Inspector Naresh Prasad entered the health ministry building and noted the difference between it and the one that housed the New Delhi police department. Whereas peeling paint and a certain amount of trash were the norm in his building, the health ministry was comparatively clean. Even the security equipment was new, and the people manning it seemed somewhat motivated. As usual, he had to leave his service revolver at the entrance.

Exiting on the second floor, Naresh walked down the long, echoing hall to where he knew the relatively new medical tourism office was. He entered without knocking. The contrast between his office and Ramesh Srivastava’s was even greater than that between their respective buildings. Ramesh’s offices were freshly painted and had new furniture. The fact that Ramesh was part of a significantly higher level of civil bureaucracy was apparent in most everything, including the equipment on the secretaries’ desks.

As he fully expected, Naresh had to wait for a certain amount of time. It was part of the mechanism bureaucrats used to exert their superiority over colleagues, even if they were available. But Naresh didn’t mind. He expected it. Besides, there was a waiting area with a new couch, a rug, and magazines, even if the reading material was outdated.