Death Benefit (36 page)

“Let’s make it quick,” George said. “I’ve only managed to wrangle a couple more hours. I have to be back in the Radiology Department for an important lecture at four o’clock.”

 

 

P
ia and George were able to borrow a Geiger counter from a resident in the department of nuclear medicine with ease. It was an out-of-commission machine awaiting recycling that was actually better at detecting alpha particles than the newer models. With the detector in hand, they hustled over to Rothman’s lab to check for any leftover radiation.

Once at the lab’s outer door they hesitated. “The only person I’d rather not run into is Spaulding,” Pia said. “He’s the only one who might cause us trouble. I never got the impression that any of the other technicians liked me much, but I can’t imagine they would physically stop us.”

“Want me to duck in and ask if he’s around?” George questioned.

“Good idea,” Pia responded.

It took George less than a minute. When he reappeared he said that the secretary told him Arthur Spaulding was taking a late lunch.

“Lucky us,” Pia said. “Let’s do it.”

The pair entered the lab with Pia in the lead. Marsha Langman looked up. Pia said she was just coming by to get some personal items. Marsha shrugged and went back to her work, whatever that was.

Pia made a beeline for the biosafety unit. They quickly donned protective clothing. They were in a hurry and didn’t want to be interrupted. Pia wanted to start in the unit because it was there that Rothman and Yamamoto had spent the entire morning on the fateful day, as well as the day before.

The Geiger counter was a small yellow box about the size of a large flashlight, with a handle on top. Pia held the main instrument in her left hand and ran the sensor, much like a microphone, over the bench surfaces. The machine made a slight crackling sound from background radiation every few seconds. To Pia’s chagrin, they found nothing, even under the hood itself.

As they removed their protective clothing they didn’t talk. Emerging back into the lab, they detoured to Pia’s small office for Marsha’s benefit. Pia had said she was there for some personal items so it was a command performance. As per usual, O’Meary was still there, half up in Pia’s ceiling space. He poked his head down when he heard the students enter.

“Miss Grazdani, you back? My God. What happened to your face?”

Pia said nothing.

“Good news. I found the short after all this time. It was between here and the doctor’s office. We’ll be out of here today. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

Pia ignored him.

“Is that one of those Geiger counters?”

“We did some radioisotope labeling in here,” Pia said. “We’re just checking the place is clean. Which it is.”

“How does that thing work, then?”

“Look it up online. Like I did.”

It made George uncomfortable that Pia was being so short with this guy. As his family was blue-collar, George felt a kinship with people like maintenance workers.

Disappointed at not finding any contamination in the biosafety unit, Pia was beginning to feel a big letdown. Yet there was one other place she wanted to check: Rothman’s office. Besides the biosafety unit and the organ bath unit, that was the only other place where both Rothman and Yamamoto spent any time. The problem was Marsha and her guard-dog mentality. Even with Rothman gone, she suspected Marsha would be Marsha.

As Pia and George returned to the lab proper, Pia was running through her mind possible ways to handle Marsha. Luckily the problem solved itself. Marsha was no longer sitting at her desk. Pia guessed and hoped she’d taken a late lunch like Spaulding.

With Marsha no longer standing guard, Pia and George hustled into Rothman’s inner office. Inside, there had obviously been some packing going on because scattered around were open cardboard boxes half full of books and papers. Pia ran the probe around the desk, the shelving behind the desk, the couch, and the coffee table where Rothman’s guests, usually journalists, would sit and hope that they would be the one to breach Rothman’s famous guard. They were inevitably disappointed. Next they tried Rothman’s private bathroom, which his celebrity status had afforded him; no other lab had a bathroom like this. But the Geiger counter stayed mostly silent except for the background crackle, just like in the biosafety unit.

Pia almost forgot about it but there was one more room—not so much a room as a storage area, where Rothman used to keep supplies scientific and secretarial. The place was stacked with toilet paper and paper towels, cases of beakers and test tubes, reams of paper, and old files. And here also was Rothman’s beloved Nespresso machine. Well, maybe, thought Pia. Just maybe.

There were a few wayward clicks from the Geiger counter next to the coffee and cappuccino maker that made Pia’s pulse pick up speed. Next to the coffeemaker was a dish towel, folded in half and carefully spread out in a small space between the coffeemaker and the coffee fixings themselves. The towel was supporting four white porcelain coffee cups: two espresso size and two regular size. They were sitting upside down. There were a few more clicks as Pia ran the probe over the bottom of the two regular coffee cups. Then she held the counter in her left hand and turned the cups over. She put the probe into one cup, then another. There was definite activity. It wasn’t off the chart but there was more activity in the cups than in the rest of the lab.

“They got Litvinenko with his tea,” Pia said excitedly. “Maybe they used the coffee here. It would explain how they both got hit at the same time and no one else was affected.”

“Doesn’t sound like much radiation. You think it’s significant?”

“It’s not much, but it is registering alpha particles. The cups were probably washed but there’s still something left. Anyway it’s definitely significant. Let’s get out of here.”

Pia took one of the coffee cups and held it gingerly by the handle. She took a padded envelope, slipped the cup inside, and put it in the reusable shopping bag in which she’d brought the Geiger counter.

George and Pia reversed their steps and emerged into the main part of the lab. Unfortunately they were in for a surprise. Marsha had apparently not gone for a late lunch, and Spaulding had returned from his. Both of them, with indignant expressions, blocked their way. Spaulding in particular had his hands on his hips and glared at Pia. “How dare you!” he said haughtily. “I told you not to come back here. And what are you doing with that?” He pointed at the Geiger counter.

Pia motioned for George to follow her. Her intention was not to engage them in conversation. She started to skirt Spaulding, but he grabbed her arm. Protectively, George moved to get in between them.

“It’s all right, George,” Pia said in a calm voice. “Arthur, let go of my arm or I’ll file a complaint with the medical center authorities for sexual harassment.”

Spaulding let go of Pia’s arm. “Whose Geiger counter is that? Does it belong to this lab?” He was sputtering.

“Don’t worry, Arthur, we signed it out from the appropriate department.”

“But what are you using it for in my lab? I demand you tell me.”

“It’s a bullshit detector, Arthur. Oh, look.” Pia held the sensor up to Arthur’s face and it crackled with its background noise. “It appears to be working just fine after all.”

Pia pushed past Spaulding and shot Marsha an indifferent look before leaving the office.

 

 

G
eorge was relieved to get away from Spaulding and the lab unscathed and hoped their trespass wouldn’t be communicated to Bourse. He hustled to catch up with Pia and found her waiting for an elevator.

“Third strike you’re out with that guy, and you’re at oh-and-two. Now you really should stay away from him.”

“That’s okay,” said Pia, “I have no reason to go back to the lab. We picked up some clicks from the coffee cups, but it was hardly what I was hoping for. I don’t know if that’s going to be conclusive enough. We need more evidence.”

“I was worried you were going to challenge Spaulding about the freezer log.”

“I thought of it. He’s such an ass. He has no authority to bar me from anywhere. I have no idea if what we found in the storage facility has any relevance whatsoever. If someone used a sample of salmonella from the freezer to infect Rothman and Yamamoto, there’s no way we’re really going to know.”

“So do you really think Spaulding had something to do with Rothman’s death?”

“If he did, he was a very small part of something larger. He’s not smart enough to think that up all by himself.”

Pia thought about what that might imply, about who might possibly be involved if there was a broad conspiracy. If Spaulding had been recruited, anyone could be a threat to her, a thought that made her shudder. She felt extraordinarily vulnerable, as much as or more than anytime during her childhood. As difficult as it was, she just had to keep her nerve and find some more evidence.

“George, can I stay in your room tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course you can,” George said. He was pleased she was asking. He only wished the circumstances were different.

When they reached the street, George expected Pia to head back to the dorm. Instead she accompanied him toward the hospital. It was raining and the wind was blowing sideways. People were moving along with their heads down, collars turned up against the cold.

“So you’re not satisfied with the readings from the coffee cups?” George said. “You don’t think it’s enough to go to the media with?”

“I really don’t think so. The few clicks we heard might not be that uncommon. I really don’t know. The cups obviously were rinsed out, I think, but not scrubbed clean. I want to check the infectious disease ward. The killer may have been able to clean up after himself at the lab, but they wouldn’t have been able to get onto the ward. Unless they have people on a cleaning crew.”

Which was entirely possible, thought Pia.

“So that’s where we’re going?” George asked. He checked his watch. He still had time before the lecture he had to attend.

“Yes.”

They reached the ward and quickly saw the futility of the mission. There were new patients in the rooms that had been occupied by Rothman and Yamamoto. An infectious disease ward had to be kept spotless because of the nature of the illnesses and infections treated there. The hospital was always aggressive with its general precautions, here even more so.

After a couple of minutes of scouting around, Pia looked at her watch.

“We’re wasting our time here. Let’s go back to the morgue.”

They took the elevator down to the basement this time, taking the approved route. In daytime, there was slightly more activity than they had found on their visit the night before, when the place was presided over by the mortuary diener from central casting. The place itself had gained no luster. Without windows it could be day or night, still bleak and decrepit. There were several quite normal-looking men in their fifties whose job it was to handle the comings and goings of the corpses. They were helpful, seemingly appreciating a visit from live people. Pia and George asked them if they remembered handling Rothman’s and Yamamoto’s bodies. They did, because there had been quite a bit of fuss, including a warning about the possibility of typhoid and instructions about general precautions.

“We disinfected the body bags on the outside after the bodies were put inside,” the first man explained. “Of course we used full precautions the whole time.”

Pia and George could see no ID tags on the men and thought it prudent not to offer their own names.

“So which gurneys did you use? And were they treated afterward?”

“Sure they were treated,” the man said. “And they’re still where they were treated.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

The attendant took the two students to another old autopsy room. This one had a special ventilation system because it was used for “dirty,” or decomposing, cases. Pia proceeded to run the radiation detector around the gurneys, but she found nothing.

“What are you looking for, exactly?” the diener asked.

“One of the patients had had radioactive isotope therapy,” Pia said, thinking quickly. “We want to make sure there wasn’t any leakage. Which there hasn’t been, so thank you.”

As Pia and George made their way back to the elevator, George complimented Pia on her quick thinking in reference to the radioactive isotope idea.

“I had to come up with something. Maybe I’ll use the same story when I go to the ME’s office.” Then she added, “Nix that! I couldn’t get away with it with a medical examiner. From the autopsy they would already know neither of the men had cancer.”

Pia pondered again. “I know. I’ll say that Rothman and Yamamoto were using a radioactive alpha emitter in their research, and we want to be sure they didn’t contaminate themselves with it as well as contracting the salmonella. I’ll tell them that it’s a safety issue.”

“Sounds good,” said George.

By now they were inside the hospital lobby.

“I have to have something to eat before I go downtown. The ME’s office closes at five, I think, but I’m going to faint if I don’t eat something. I don’t even know if I ate anything yesterday. I know I haven’t today. How are you with time?”

“I’ve got a few more minutes before my lecture.”

 

 

T
hey went to the hospital cafeteria. It was busy, even at off-hours like this, as illness and its treatment didn’t operate on a convenient nine-to-five schedule. Staff, patients, and visitors alike had to grab something to eat when they could. Pia got something substantial while George grabbed a coffee and a cookie.

“So,” George said, “what about revisiting the idea of going to the police and telling them about the clicks we got with the Geiger counter? I just can’t believe it’s a large conspiracy. Even if it was murder with polonium, I’m sure the explanation is going to be something much more banal. Something we haven’t thought of. I don’t know, perhaps he had gambling debts?”