Scarcity (Jack Randall #3) (14 page)

“You have names and addresses? Phone numbers?”

“Yes. The names will be aliases, but the addresses will most likely be the same. They really have no reason to change them. Like I said, they aren’t really in any danger from the police. The phone numbers change daily, but I had a contact at Mextel who would give me the updated numbers. Most of them have criminal histories. You should be able to find them in a computer somewhere, I would think.”

“Are there any names within the government tied to this?”

“. . . a couple.”

Angel spent the next half hour listing names, addresses, and phone numbers for the camera. The written transcript had grown to over forty pages today. It was about their usual and Angel was tired. Soon the panel had determined they had heard enough for that day and they left his view on the screen. Angel rose and silently followed the Marshals up the steps and into the main floor of the house. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes left on the table by one of them and hurriedly lit up before flopping into one of the old recliners. The two agents regarded him with contempt.

“You’re gonna burn long and hot, Angel.”

Angel waved the remark away with his cigarette.

“Yeah . . . tell me something I don’t know.”

•      •      •

“This is all of it?”

The negotiator’s name was Luis, and he stood in the family’s living room, examining the documents the father had provided. He paced while he read and they watched from the couch while he did so. The wife sat on the edge, hanging on the man’s every word, while the father sat back with a drink in one hand. He was not pleased with the prying questions being asked by his newest employee.

Luis stopped and dropped the papers on the pile already stacked on the coffee table. He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation before stopping in front of the couple.

“This is not enough. They’ll demand several times this. We must be able to negotiate from a point of strength. If we offer this, they’ll think we’re playing games and we’ll get nowhere. I need a figure we can work with.”

“That’s all I can get right now!”

“Right now? Right now? I don’t think you heard me before. This’ll most likely take months. We’ll start talking with them soon, and it will be once or twice a week if we’re lucky. You have time to get more money. If they think we’re not negotiating in true faith, you’ll get her fingers in the mailbox! Do you understand?”

The father shook his head in disgust. “I don’t like this. How do we know they’ll even give her back once we pay them?”

“They’ll give her back. If they don’t, no one will ever pay them again, and they know it. This is nothing but a business deal for them. You are a businessman. You must look at it from that point of view. We both have something that the other wants. There is only the matter of price to settle. But you must be willing to work with them, or they’ll make an example of her and that is what we don’t want.”

The father drained his drink and fingered the empty glass. His wife gripped his hand and he relented.

“I . . . I will find more money.”

“Good. They’ll be calling soon. We must be ready.”

“And if they demand money up front?”

“We give them nothing. First we’ll demand proof of life. We’ll do nothing until we get it. We give nothing unless we get something in return. They’ll expect this, and it will show that we are professionals, also.”

“Professionals? They’re fucking animals!”

“This is true. But they’re very smart animals. We must be careful.”

“Where do you think she is?” the wife asked.

Luis softened his tone for her. The woman looked ready to break down crying at any moment.

“She’s somewhere in this city, to be sure. They most likely have her in a house where they can keep her confined and quiet. She’ll be moved periodically to other places, but no one but her captors will see her. She’ll be fed and clothed and kept healthy. Most of them who come back were treated well. You must understand that she’s worth a lot of money to them. It’s in their best interest to take care of her. Other than being quite scared, I doubt that she’s been harmed.”

The wife just nodded as she tried to wrap her mind around the situation. The father was still pissed and couldn’t let it go.

“Those useless police. If she’s in the city like you say, they should be out looking for her.”

“If we try to locate her, we put her life in danger. Anytime the kidnappers have been cornered by the police, it has not worked out well for the victim. The police go in shooting and the victim . . . they tend to get caught in the crossfire. Something we don’t want.”

“So how long will this . . . negotiation last?”

“With luck, maybe two or three months.”

“And if we have no luck?”

“I can’t say.”

“Why so long? Can we not just pay these bastards and get it over with?”

“If we pay too fast they’ll see it as a sign of weakness and just demand more. We don’t want that either. This is a game to them, but we both want the same thing. You have to trust me to see it through.”

The father contemplated his empty glass further and Luis watched him closely. Finally he saw the man’s muscles relax in surrender.

“Very well, we will do as you say.”

•      •      •

Luis drove away from the family’s gated home and entered the crowded streets of Mexico City. Once he had determined he had no tails, he found his way to the freeway circling the city. Only then did he open the glove box between the seats and select a cell phone from the many present. He dialed the number from memory.

“Yes?”

“I’ve met with the family. They’re not ready yet. I want them to wait two days before they call so I can work on the father some more. The money is there, he’s just reluctant to show me it.”

“Good. He’s worth more than the financial reports say, I’m sure. Do you have a figure in mind?”

“Between eight hundred thousand and one million.”

The detective was ecstatic but tried not to show it. His question still revealed his greed.

“My cut will increase?”

“Your cut will remain as agreed! Do not try to alter the agreement or I’ll find a new employee, you understand?”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now do as I said, and tell them to have the damn picture ready.”

“It’s already been done. They moved her to the second location, as we discussed.”

“All right, do nothing else till you hear from me. Wait for my call.”

“
Si.
”

Illegal kidney transplant case
exposes human organs black market
Oct 29, 2011 in Health
 

—TEN—

R
ita Lamar was wide awake. She had finally relented to both her husband’s and the doctor’s wishes and gone home for a night to get a shower and some needed sleep, but after tossing and turning for several hours, she had stopped fighting it and gotten up. She fixed herself a small meal and was now wandering the house with a drink in her hand. Her robe hung loosely around her, and she could tell she had lost several pounds since the accident. She now ventured down the hall, forcing herself to avoid her daughter’s room. Her husband had closed the door for the night before going to the hospital, so it would not draw her eyes as she passed, and she soon found herself on the stairwell.

It proved to be just as bad. Her only hobby was photography and the walls of the stairwell were adorned with hundreds of pictures of her family—her daughter predominant among them. Birthdays, sports, class pictures, family reunions, all of them together on the campaign trail with her father, they chronicled the life of a successful and loving family. Her daughter’s prom pictures were the latest, and she saw her smiling face next to the young man in his rented suit. One of the few boys her father had approved of, she had somehow found a flaw in him a few months later, and was soon dating another. There had never been a shortage of boys.

At the bottom of the stairs she turned toward the kitchen, but after a pause continued on to the garage door. After turning the lights on and gazing out at the empty spot where the little Mustang used to be, she flicked the switch and returned to the house. The streetlights painted the walls with dark shadows and she gazed out the picture windows to see the deserted streets. Still several hours until sunrise, she expected to see nothing. Sipping the drink, she wandered down the hall toward the library. A bit of motion caught her eye as she passed her husband’s study and she entered to investigate, only to see the neighbor’s cat sitting outside on the windowsill.

“Hello, Calvin.”

She touched a finger to the glass and was rewarded by the cat nuzzling the window in return. He soon lost interest and scampered off in search of whatever cats do.

Turning from the window she was presented with her husband’s desk, messy as usual as he had no aides at home to keep it tidy for him. Her husband was not a morning person, although he rose before six each day for a full day of work. He was fonder of burning the midnight oil and had been known to forget the time on occasion and call an aide or lobbyist at two in the morning.

She noticed his briefcase sitting unlocked on the credenza next to some papers. She picked one up.

It was a transcript of an interrogation. She scanned it quickly and was about to put it down when the words “organ trafficking” caught her eye. She settled in to read further. The drink was soon set down and forgotten as she dug into the briefcase for more.

Two hours later she turned on the senator’s copy machine.

•      •      •

Dr. Dayo left his office after a few hours of paperwork. His stomach had informed him an hour ago that it was empty, but he had overruled it until he had finished the last patient chart. He only got stopped twice on his journey, once for one of his nurses who had been out on maternity leave, and again for a quick consult with a colleague. The line in the cafeteria was short, and he eyeballed the sandwiches before picking one to go with his salad. He needed to lose a few pounds, or so his wife had informed him. He scanned the crowded room for a table, hoping to spot some of the residents. He liked the questions he got from them in the informal atmosphere.

Off to one side, he noticed two men in suits sitting alone in the sea of scrubs. Despite the crowd, their large table was devoid of any company, and when he saw who they were he wasn’t surprised. The two lawmen just didn’t belong, and as curious as his people were, they knew they wouldn’t get any answers from sitting with them.

The younger one made eye contact and waved him over, so he found a seat and unloaded his tray.

“Busy day, Doc?” Jack asked.

“No more than usual.”

“How’s our guest doing?” Lenny inquired.

Dr. Dayo played with his salad a little before replying. “About the same. His heart is failing, but it’s doing so slowly. Nothing from the donor registry yet. We’re waiting.”

“What are his chances of getting one?”

The surgeon shrugged. “No way to know really. The organ procurement business is a black hole. We have a board here that decides if the patient qualifies as a recipient or not, but once that determination is made, it goes out to several organizations that find the organs and match them up to people on the list. At that point, it’s really out of our control.”

“Just how does the whole thing work anyway?”

“How does one get a new heart? Well, two years ago it was fairly simple, but now it’s kind of complicated.”

“The simple version will suffice, Doc.”

“Obviously the first thing you have to do is get sick or injured. Most of the people on the list are suffering from an advancing disease that’s leading to the failure of an organ. A smaller group is there because of some form of injury that’s damaged the organ beyond its capacity to function. Whatever the reason, it’s been determined that they need the transplant to continue living.”

Dayo paused to chase down a stubborn crouton. The two cops waited patiently until he finally speared it.

“It basically follows a simple path. Patient A gets sick and goes to see his doctor. The doctor runs a few tests, and either discovers the problem himself, or refers patient A to a specialist who does. This leads to more blood work and tests until a diagnosis is made. The severity of the problem is determined, and the need for a transplant is established.”

“Who makes that call?”

“By this time a lot of these patients are hospitalized. Some aren’t, but that doesn’t change things a whole lot. Each hospital has a board that meets when needed to determine a patient’s eligibility. The criteria are pretty strict. The patient has to be healthy enough, aside from his organ failure, to survive the surgery. They have to have sufficient financial means to afford the follow-up care and drugs required to retain the organ. They need a healthy support system, preferably family, in place. We look for destructive behaviors also. They can’t have a history of drug or alcohol abuse. They need to have lived a somewhat healthy lifestyle. We look for smoking, obesity, eating habits, education level, marital history, job security, everything. The organ from a donor is considered a great gift, and it’s not going to go to someone who won’t or can’t take care of it.”