Foreign Body (22 page)

Naresh whistled into his phone. He was duly impressed. "I hadn't heard those figures.

Are you people aiming to catch IT? The information technology people are going to be envious, as they believe they have become the hereditary kings of foreign exchange."

"Unfortunately, this current problem could seriously impact our goal," Ramesh said, ignoring Naresh's question. "We need help."

"That's what we're here for. What can we do?"

"There's two parts. One part for your unit in general and one part for you in particular.

Concerning your unit, we need an investigation to uncover who is supplying CNN

International with confidential information. The CEO of Queen Victoria and his chief of the medical staff believe it to be a radical academic M.D. who also has admitting privileges. How many there are at the Victoria I don't know, but I want them investigated now. I want to know who this person is."

"That can easily be arranged. I will put my best men on it. What is my part?"

"The girl, Jennifer Hernandez. I want her taken care of. It shouldn't be difficult. She's staying at the Amal."

"Why not call up one of your equals in immigration. Have her picked up and deported.

Problem over!"

"My sense is that she is feisty, stubborn, and resourceful. If immigration picks her up, I'd worry that she'd make a fuss, and if the media associates her case with the death reported by CNN, there could be an even bigger story about a governmental cover-up. That could make everything decidedly worse."

"Good point. What exactly do you mean 'taken care of'? Let's be specific."

"I leave that to your well-earned reputation for creativity. I want her to stop being a potential thorn in our side. However you can accomplish that, I'm content. Actually, it's better if I don't know. Then if I'm asked at a later date, as one who was interested in her behavior, I don't have to lie."

"What if I can assure you she means no harm and her current apparent threat is bogus?"

"That would be satisfactory, of course. Particularly if your team can provide us with the physician mole. I need to attack this problem from both ends."

"Can I assume my compensation will be the usual?"

"Let's say comparable. Check things out. Follow her. Remember, we don't want her to become the news, and we surely don't want her to be any kind of martyr. As for the compensation, it should depend on degree of difficulty. You and I go back a ways. We can trust each other."

"You'll hear from me."

"Good."

Ramesh disconnected the call. Toward the end of the conversation with the industrial policeman, he'd had another idea about the Hernandez problem, a possible solution that would be easier, cheaper, and probably better, as it wouldn't involve the government. All he had to do was get someone he knew angry enough, and it so happened that the individual Ramesh had in mind was easy to get angry when the issue involved money.

Ramesh was surprised he'd not thought of Shashank Malhotra earlier. After all, the man regularly paid him off and had even taken him on a memorable trip to Dubai.

"Hello, my good friend," Shashank enthused several octaves louder than necessary.

"Wonderful to hear from you. How is the family?"

Ramesh could visually imagine Shashank in his palatial office overlooking the fashionable Connaught Place. Shashank was one of India's new-style businessmen who were into a wide variety of pursuits, some legal, some less so. Of late he'd become particularly enamored of healthcare and saw medical tourism as the path to an easy second fortune. Over the last three years he'd invested a substantial sum and was the principal stockholder in a company that, appropriately enough in relation to the current problem, owned the Queen Victoria Hospitals in Delhi, Bangalore, and Chennai, and the Aesculapian Medical Centers in Delhi, Mumbai, and Hyderabad. It was also he who had recently contributed the lion's share of the cost of the recent ad campaign in Europe and North America touting India as a twenty-first-century healthcare destination. Shashank Malhotra was a major player.

After an appropriate amount of niceties had been exchanged, Ramesh got down to business. "The reason for my call is a problem at Queen Victoria Hospital here in Delhi.

Have you been briefed?"

"I heard there was some sort of minor problem," Shashank said warily. He had heard the change in Ramesh's voice and was famously sensitive to the word problem, as it usually meant the necessity of spending money. And he was particularly touchy about problems associated with both the Queen Victoria Hospital group and the Aesculapian Medical Centers, as they were the newest members of his financial empire and had yet to reach profitability.

"It's more than a minor," Ramesh said. "And I think you should know about it. Do you have a minute?"

"Are you kidding? Certainly I want to hear it."

Ramesh told Shashank the story pretty much the same way he'd told it to Inspector Naresh Prasad but minus the optimistic government economic predictions for medical tourism, as Shashank was already well aware of those. As Ramesh progressed, he knew Shashank was appreciating both the importance and the urgency of the situation because of the pointed questions he posed as Ramesh continued.

When Ramesh finished and fell silent, Shashank remained silent as well. Ramesh let him stew, particularly about the part of erasing most of the gain from the ad campaign.

"I think you should have told me all this a little sooner," Shashank growled. He sounded like a completely different person. His voice was low and menacing.

"I think that everything should be fine if this young woman will make up her mind about her grandmother's body, and then she heads home. I'm sure you know someone qualified to make those suggestions, someone whom she might listen to."

"Where is she staying?"

"At the Amal Palace."

Ramesh found himself holding a dead line.

Chapter 17

OCTOBER 17, 2007

WEDNESDAY, 3:45 P.M.

NEW DELHI, INDIA

Veena glanced at her watch. Report had never seemed to take so long. She was supposed to have been off at three-thirty, and it was already a quarter to four.

"That's it, then," Nurse Kumar said to the evening head nurse. "Any questions?"

"I don't believe so," the evening head nurse said. "Thank you."

Everyone stood. Veena made a beeline to the elevator while the others erupted in casual conversation. Samira saw her and had to hurry to catch up.

"Where are you going?" Samira questioned.

Veena didn't answer. Her eyes darted from elevator to elevator to see which one would be arriving first.

"Veena!" Samira voiced with emotion. "Are you still not going to talk with me? I think you are carrying this too far."

Veena ignored Samira and stepped over to the door of the arriving elevator. Samira followed.

"I know it is reasonable for you to be angry with me initially," Samira whispered after moving behind her friend. Several of the other nurses joined them, chattering about the day's events. "But after you'd had time to think about it, I thought you'd understand I did it for you as much as for myself and the others."

The elevator arrived. Everyone boarded. Veena moved to the back of the car, turned, and faced forward. Samira joined her. "This silence is not fair," Samira continued in a whisper. "Don't you even want to know the details about last night?"

"No," Veena replied, also in a whisper. They were the first words she'd spoken directly to Samira since Monday, when Cal had revealed to Veena that he knew about her family's problems. The only other person in the world who knew about it was Samira, so the source was obvious.

"Thank you for talking to me," Samira said, keeping her voice low over the babble of the others. "I know I wasn't supposed to tell about your father, but this seemed different.

Durell told me our emigrating depended on it. I was also promised your problem would be taken care of and you'd be free, and so would your family."

"My family has been shamed," Veena said. "Irreversibly shamed."

Samira didn't say anything. She knew that Veena initially would be absorbed in thinking about her extended family and its reputation instead of rejoicing in her newly gained freedom and that of her sisters from a horrid father. But she expected her to promptly see the light. More than ever, Samira wanted to escape what she thought were the cultural shackles of current-day India. She couldn't wait for Nurses International to help her emigrate.

With the shift changing, the elevator stopped on every floor.

"I'm not going directly back to the bungalow," Veena said, keeping her eyes glued to the floor indicator. "I'm going to stop in and see Shrimati Kashmira Varini."

"What on earth for?" Samira questioned in a whisper.

"The granddaughter of my victim came to see me this afternoon, and I found it very uncomfortable having to speak with her. Cal never suggested I'd have to do anything like that. She scares me. She told me she's not happy about her grandmother's death and she's looking into it. I don't like it."

The elevator came to a bumpy stop at the lobby level and disgorged its full load of passengers. After only a few steps, Veena came to a halt. Samira did the same.

"Maybe it would be best if you didn't do anything until we talk with Cal and Durell,"

Samira said after making certain no one was listening.

"I want to find out where she is staying in case Cal wants to know. I'm sure the case manager knows."

"I imagine she does."

"The granddaughter mentioned your victim as well."

"In what regard?" Samira asked with increasing alarm.

"She wondered if the same person who'd found Mrs. Hernandez also found Mr.

Benfatti."

"Why would she care?"

"I don't know."

"Now you have me concerned," Samira said.

"I'll wait for you here," Samira said, as Veena turned and headed toward the information desk. She merely waved acknowledgment over her shoulder. Rounding the desk, Veena peered beyond Kashmira Varini's open door. She was hoping the case manager would be alone, and she was.

"Excuse me," Veena called out, and bowed as Kashmira looked up. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Kashmira replied, returning the greeting.

Veena advanced to the desk. "I spoke with Mrs. Hernandez's granddaughter, Jennifer, this afternoon."

"Yes, so Nurse Kumar informed me when she called to let me know she was here. Sit down!" Kashmira pointed with her chin toward one of the free chairs in her office.

Although Veena was planning on staying only for a few moments, she sat down.

"I'm interested in your reaction to her. We are finding her difficult to deal with."

"In what regard?" Veena asked, feeling progressively more unsettled toward the American.

"In most every regard. We need her simply to stipulate what she wants us to do with her grandmother's body and be done with it so we can dispose of the body. But she refuses.

I'm afraid she has some paranoid notion this tragedy was either a medical error or intentional. She'd even arranged that several American forensic pathologists are coming for heaven knows what. I've repeatedly made it clear there is to be no autopsy."

Veena had reflexively sucked in a bit of air when she'd heard Kashmira say "intentional"

and hoped it hadn't been apparent. Her sense that Jennifer Hernandez was potential trouble had ratcheted up several notches.

"Are you alright?" Kashmira asked, leaning toward Veena.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's been a long day is all."

"Do you need a drink of water or anything?"

"I'm fine. Why I stopped in was to find out where Jennifer Hernandez is staying, because I was thinking of calling her. I want to be certain I've answered all her questions. When she was here I was very busy, and Nurse Kumar had to interrupt to get me back to my patient."

"She's at the Amal," Kashmira said. "During the time you were talking with her, how did she seem? Was she hostile at all? With me she goes back and forth. I don't know if it is because she is exhausted or angry."

"No, not hostile. In fact, the opposite. She acted sympathetic that her grandmother had been my first patient death since my graduation."

"That seems out of character."

"But she did specifically say she was unhappy about her grandmother's death, whatever that meant, and that she was looking into it to a degree. She used those words but quite matter-offactly."

"If you end up talking with her, please encourage her to decide about her grandmother's body. It would be an enormous help."

After promising to put in a good word if the opportunity presented itself about the cremation/embalming issue, Veena bid Shrimati Varini good night and hustled out into the lobby. She found Samira and guided her outside.

"What did you learn?" Samira asked, as they walked down the driveway.

"We have to talk with Cal about this Hernandez woman. She worries me. Even Kashmira Varini is having trouble with her. She said that she believes Jennifer Hernandez suspects the death of her grandmother was either medical error or somehow purposeful. In other words, not natural."

Samira stopped, suddenly grabbing Veena by the elbow and pulling her up short. "You mean she thinks her grandmother might have been murdered."

"In so many words," Veena said.

"I think we better get back to the bungalow."

"I couldn't agree more."

Despite the pre-rush hour traffic clogging the street, the women were lucky to find a free auto rickshaw. They climbed into the bench backseat, gave the driver the bungalow address, and then held on for dear life.

Chapter 18

OCTOBER 17, 2007

WEDNESDAY, 4:26 P.M.

NEW DELHI, INDIA

You got a sec?" Durell asked from the library door. Cal looked up from the spreadsheets of Nurses International expenses. The burn rate was impressive, but with things going so well at the moment, he was not as concerned as he'd been just two to three days before.

"Of course," Cal said. He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head. He watched Durell saunter in and spread several maps on the library table that Cal used as a desk.