The Body Thief (2 page)

“Don’t be silly,” she protested. “I wouldn’t
expect you to remember.”

“I have access to every staff record in the
building. I have no excuse if I forget,” he replied with a smile.
“Do you have any plans?”

“Ah, there we have it! A massive bleed!”
Phillip announced, bending over the brain of his cadaver. “That was
easy!”

Sam smiled and shook her head and then
answered Richard’s question. “I’m having lunch with my
brother.”

“Her
superstar
brother,” Phillip
added with a cheeky wink.

“I’m glad to see he’s spending some of that
hard-earned cash,” Richard replied. “With his new position at the
hospital, he must be raking it in.”

Sam grinned. “Jealous?”

Richard shook his head. “Not at all. He
deserves every cent. He has to work with the living
and
the
dead. At least my job is limited to those no longer with us, and
thankfully, complaints are rare. His job requires a whole lot more
finesse. Having to deal with grieving relatives and convince them
to donate body parts of their loved ones…” He shuddered. “Way
beyond my skill set, I’m afraid. I admire him.”

“So do I,” Sam agreed, “and he’s having a
real impact. The sudden increase in the number of bodies coming
here with donated organs is impressive.”

Richard looked uncomfortable for a second
and then his gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”

Samantha indicated the body Phillip was
working on. “Phillip’s guy donated most of his organs. It’s
fortunate none of the ones removed were involved in the cause of
his death, because they’re not here and it would have been
impossible to determine the way he died. I wonder who in this
office authorized it?”

Tugging off her gloves, she reached across
for the man’s file and scanned the pages until she found what she
was looking for. “Ah, here it is. The call from the Sydney Harbour
Hospital Intensive Care Unit came in on Saturday night from my
brother and…” She continued to scan the hospital notes and then
looked up at her boss. “You were the one who gave consent.”

Richard nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I
remember now. I was on call over the weekend. I discussed the
patient with Alistair. He was of the opinion the man had died of an
aneurysm on the brain. His family was adamant he’d wanted to donate
his organs. Apparently, one of his children had died at a young age
from a heart defect. The child could have been saved had she
received a donor heart in time.” He shrugged. “The story touched
me. I couldn’t see any harm in harvesting what was more than likely
not
involved in his cause of death. His family was beyond
supportive. No need letting healthy organs go to waste, right?”

“You won’t get an argument from me,”
Samantha replied. “My mother’s been waiting for a transplant for
years. I’m all for harvesting whatever can be used.”

Phillip made a sound of disapproval. Sam
turned to face him. “I take it you’re not in agreement?”

“No way! I guess it’s all right for people
who don’t know what goes on in a place like this, but for me…” He
shuddered. “Besides, I’m a Catholic and I want to head off to the
afterlife intact, the same way I came into it. Is that too much to
ask? Lucky for me, my wife, Maree, feels the same way.”

Sam stared at him, a little taken aback.
She’d known him for years and had never suspected he felt that way.
The fact that he was Catholic was hardly an excuse. The Vatican’s
official position was in favor of organ donation. Sam couldn’t help
but think of her mother. Every day without a new kidney brought her
that much closer to death. Sam couldn’t fathom why anyone would
choose not to be an organ donor.

“Think of the number of people you could
help,” she replied, trying hard to maintain a calm and objective
manner. “You could save a person’s life, bring sight to the
blind—achieve any number of worthy outcomes. Why wouldn’t you want
to be part of that?”

Phillip shrugged, but his expression told
her he remained adamant. “I guess, but why does it have to be me?
There are millions and millions of people in the world. If even a
quarter of them donated organs and tissue on their death, we
wouldn’t have a problem. There’d be more than enough body parts to
go around and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“But there aren’t enough people donating!
That’s the problem,” Sam said, tugging on a fresh pair of latex
gloves and resuming the autopsy. “Governments and hospitals do what
they can, but there’s no guarantee it will make a difference. Look
at you! You’re living in a city that’s recently been inundated with
advertising, countless media events about the positive side to
organ donation, and more—and you’re still unconvinced organ
donation’s a good thing.”

“You’re right,” Phillip said. “Maybe if I
got paid for it ahead of time, I’d reconsider. You can’t
underestimate the appeal of the dollar. It would be nice to pay off
my mortgage.”

Sam gasped in outrage. “Phillip Bond! I
don’t believe you just—”

Too late, she caught the twinkle in his
hazel eyes. “Dammit, Phillip! That’s not fair,” she responded
without heat. “You should have warned me you were joking before I
got all hot and bothered. You’re lucky my hands are covered in
blood and body matter or I might just reach over there and grab you
around the throat.”

He laughed. “You’d have to catch me, first.
Besides, who’d laugh at your lame jokes if I wasn’t around?”

Snorting at their nonsense, Richard shook
his head. “You two deserve each other. I’ll leave you to it.” He
turned away, heading in the direction of the exit. “Happy birthday,
Sam, and have a good day!” he called out as he disappeared through
the doorway.

Samantha glanced back at Phillip. “You’re
right. Absolutely no one. But just for the record, you’re not the
only person in here who finds my jokes funny.”

He laughed and Sam laughed with him. It
wasn’t her place to judge him or his beliefs. He was entitled to
his opinion on organ donation and other issues too. His ideas
didn’t have to mesh with hers for them to be friends. If her mother
wasn’t in such desperate need of a transplant, Sam might not feel
quite so strongly about it. She owed him an apology.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“For giving you a hard time. Your opinion is
just as valid as mine. You’re entitled to leave this world with
everything you came in with.”

“Just as you’re entitled to leave without
all your body parts.”

“Agreed,” Sam said and stuck out her
hand.

From across the table, Phillip leaned over
and shook it. “Agreed.”

Sam looked down at their gloved hands, both
covered in blood and gore. It should have been distasteful, but it
wasn’t. It was all just part of the job. A job she loved.

Dear Diary,

Day after day, week after week, I see
healthy human organs and tissue going to waste. Why people set
limits on their generosity, I’ll never understand. If they’re
prepared to donate body parts, why stop at just one or two? There
are so many organs and tissue in a body that can be put to good
use. So many lives could be saved if they gave more! So many
patients could be healed! So many people could be given back their
quality of life!

It doesn’t seem right that the donors get to
pick and choose: ‘You can take this one and that one, but not that
one or that one. I’m taking those ones with me to the grave.’

It frustrates me to no end. It’s no wonder
I’ve taken matters into my own hands…

* * *

Sam pressed the button on the city bus to
alert the driver to stop. The bell dinged over the muted
conversations and the noise coming from the heavy lunchtime traffic
outside. She’d planned to drive into the city to meet her brother,
but the time had gotten away from her. Finding a parking space
would be a nightmare and she hated to be late, so she’d opted for
the nearest public transport.

Tugging her coat tighter around her, she
stepped off the bus and breathed in the brisk winter air. Though
the heat from the crowds and passing cars took away the bite, there
was still a distinct chill in the breeze that gently lifted her
hair. She glanced at her watch and picked up her pace. She still
had two blocks to go. Her brother had taken time off from his busy
schedule to meet her for lunch and she didn’t want to keep him
waiting.

With a sigh of relief, she spied her
favorite restaurant half a block ahead. While it wasn’t one of the
swanky ones on the waterfront, the food was great and the service
was friendly—and they knew her well enough that generally, she
could secure a table without a reservation. She climbed the few
steps that led into the restaurant and saw Alistair sitting at the
bar. He turned, caught sight of her and came forward.

“Hi,” she said and stood on tiptoes to give
him a kiss.

“Hi, yourself,” he replied and gave her a
brief hug. “Happy birthday, little sis.”

“Thank you. I’m always pleased to see
another one come around.”

Alistair laughed. “You must be one of the
very few women who do.”

“Well, in my line of work, you come to
realize how finite life really is. The alternative to having
birthdays is pretty grim.”

Alistair smiled in agreement. Flinging an
arm around her shoulders, he steered her back toward the bar. She
looked up at him and raised a brow.

“I spoke to May-Ling when I arrived,” he
said, correctly interpreting her unspoken question. “She’s promised
us the very next table. I told her it was your birthday and that
we’re both on our lunch breaks. She was upset that she couldn’t
seat us immediately, especially on your special day.”

“I guess we should have booked ahead.”

“I’m sure it won’t take long. You’re one of
her favorite customers.”

Sam smiled. It was probably true. She spent
many an evening collecting takeout from the Thai restaurant at the
southern end of the city. Although it wasn’t directly on her route
home, she often made the effort to detour that way and order some
of May-Ling’s scrumptious fare. The spring rolls and money bags
were like nothing she’d found elsewhere and the yellow curry
chicken—it was beyond divine.

“What are you drinking?” Alistair asked,
tugging out his wallet.

“Seeing as you’re paying, let’s order a
bottle of my favorite champagne.”

Alistair’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you want
a bottle of Moet? I take it you’re off for the rest of the
day.”

“Perhaps I’m just feeling adventurous. It’s
my birthday, after all. Are you going to join me?”

“Sorry, I’m rostered on until midnight. You
won’t be getting drunk with me today.”

“Who said anything about getting drunk?
Besides, I have to return to work, too.”

“Really? When you asked for a bottle of the
expensive stuff, I assumed you were going to make the most of it.”
He smiled and gave her a wink and she was reminded how lucky she
was to have such a wonderful older brother.

“Just joking. A glass of Merlot will be
fine.” He nodded approval and turned to give the bartender their
order.

Samantha sat back on the stool and surveyed
Alistair. The custom-made, charcoal-gray suit fitted him to
perfection. His black hair, the same shade as hers, was thick and
wavy. The small patches of gray at his temples only enhanced his
physical appeal and gave him an air of experience and
sophistication that was matched by his tasteful yellow-and-navy
striped designer tie. Even at forty-four, he was a man people
noticed. It was little wonder he’d been chosen by the Sydney
Harbour Hospital to head their organ donation campaign

The glass of red wine and a Diet Coke
appeared in the bartender’s hands. He set the drinks before them.
Murmuring her thanks, Sam took a sip of the wine, savoring the
rich, mellow taste. She turned back to her brother. Alistair took a
sip from his Diet Coke and then sat the glass back on the bar. Sam
couldn’t help but chuckle. “Watching your weight?”

“It doesn’t hurt to show some restraint,
especially at my age.” He slapped his flat stomach. “Since I took
on the role of head of the Organ Donation for Transplantation Unit,
I don’t get time to work out like I used to.”

She shook her head, but refrained from
commenting. Alistair had never been overweight. “How’s work?” she
asked instead.

He shrugged. “Busy, you know how it is,
especially at this time of year.”

“Yes, winter can be such a bitch and
unfortunately, it hits the most vulnerable hardest: babies and the
elderly. You’d see it even more than me. Bronchitis and chronic
chest infections deteriorate into pneumonia… And then there are the
accidental deaths. Elderly people who don’t turn up the thermostat
and consequently freeze; or they leave a heater on and their house
burns down. I’ve lost count of the number of autopsies I’ve done on
fire victims over the years.”

“Yes, it’s tough and this winter’s been
longer and colder than most. Frosts nearly every day this week. The
deaths are tragic, but there is a silver lining. It means more
potential organ donors.” He winked at her, but Sam’s thoughts were
distracted. She was reminded of her earlier conversation with
Phillip.

“I wonder if that accounts for the recent
trend,” she said slowly.

“What trend?”

“The increase in donor deaths.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been a noticeable rise in the
number of bodies coming through the morgue with donated organs
removed. Phillip and I were talking about it earlier today. Your
comment made me think the increase might be due to nothing more
than the unseasonably cold weather.”

“Phillip’s one of the pathologists you work
with, right?”

“Yes. We’ve worked together for years. I
knew him out at Westmead. He surprised me today by—”