Mortal Fear (30 page)

What?
Miles asks.

There has to be. Wheat was the intended transplant recipient. Something went wrong, so they took Rosalind May the next night. But whos the
donor
? The last murder
of a young girlthat we know aboutwas six weeks before Wheats death. Thats too long for a harvested pineal to remain medically viable. That means another young woman was kidnapped in the interval, or is about to be.
Shes
the donor.

My God, I whisper, starting to believe for the first time.

Drewe looks at me. How long does it take you to find out an EROS woman is dead or missing?

Weeks, usually. I only found out about Karin so fast because she was a celebrity.

What about Rosalind May? She was only taken days ago.

Its complicated, but it comes down to coincidence. She was a blind-draft account holder who hadnt been active for a while but was still paying her fees. When her account went to zero, one of Miless techs started poking around. A week ago, her account went active again. It looks like she was talking to Brahma right up until the second he took her.

My God. Are there more accounts like that?

About fifty.

Drewe goes still. The donor is one of those fifty. Only her account hasnt dropped to zero yet, so nobody but the killer knows shes part of this. Both she and May could be lying on an operating table right now, waiting for

Wait a minute, says Miles, holding up his hands. Were going off the deep end here. If your surgeon is a helike almost all serial killersand he wants to prolong his own life, wouldnt he be kidnapping men?

Sex doesnt matter in organ transplants.

But why is he
raping
them, for Gods sake? After theyre dead, no less? According to your theory, this surgeon would be motivated by a semblance of rationality. Is raping corpses the act of a rational man? On EROS I once saw a quote about necrophilia taken from a psychiatric textbook. In necrophilia, the diagnosis of psychosis is considered justified in all cases. I laughed about that for two days. Talk about understatement. Im no missionary, but bonking corpses is definitely off the reservation.

I cant explain that part of it, Drewe confesses. But I
stand by my theory. And Ill tell you something else. One glance at those pictures you flashed tells me these murders werent committed for purely sexual reasons.

Why?

Every one of those women looked different from the others. Different hair, complexion, bone structure, and enough difference in cosmetics show different personalities. Men are visually motivated. The only connection between those girls was that they were young. And Karin Wheat and Rosalind May werent.

Miles flattens his hands on his papers. Okay, lets look at your surgeon for a minute. If he intended to try this transplant, wouldnt he need the victims blood type, tissue type, things like that?

I assume so, Drewe says, but I dont know. Im an obstetrician. I know virtually nothing about transplantation. There are very good antirejection agents now.

How would he do it? Hes got to remove a gland from the center of the brain, then put the new one right back in that spot? Or could it go somewhere else?

I would say reattachment in situ is impossible. Damaged central nervous system tissue will not growthats axiomatic. The pineal is attached to a stalk through which all kinds of chemicals flow. Once you sever that stalk, its over. Maybe he could park it in a kidney or something.

A kidney? I ask.

In the early mouse transplants, the surgeons placed the new pineal inside the thymus, which is behind the sternum. They did that because both glands were connected to the same nerve center in the brain. And the transplanted gland functioned. But in the later mouse transplants, the new pineals were put right into the brain after the old glands were removed. How, I dont know. And I dont see how you could do that with humans.

How long would an operation like this take? Miles asks.

Drewe opens her hands. Removing a pituitary tumor takes two or three hours. But thats simply an excision of tumor tissue. This would take much longer.

But you know for a fact that it worked on mice?

Yes. But you see the difference, dont you? The
doctors working on mice were studying only the aging process. Who knows how much brain function they destroyed in the process of transplanting the pineals?

A horrifying thought hits me. Whos to say Brahma didnt take the pineals from those first victims and transplant them into living recipients? Theres no reason to think we know about all his victims. He could be taking women from other on-line services. He could be taking homeless women off the street.

Shit, mutters Miles.

And if he is, he might not care any more than those mouse doctors about what mental functions he destroyed.

Oh God, Drewe whispers.
God.

Maybe Rosalind May is alive, Miles says, getting to his feet. How many people would it take to do what youre talking about? Bare minimum. Double up any functions that allow it.

Mmm... five. Two surgeons, two nurses, and an anesthetist.

That sounds high, I tell her. Think about battlefield surgery. The Civil War. Doctors have performed operations with almost nonexistent resources when they had no alternative.

Okay, ditch one nurse. But this isnt some macho deal where they do without sedative and cut with a kitchen knife and someone calls it a miracle because they got muddy doing it. Youre talking about a transplant. A
glandular transplant at the core of the brain
. It has
never
been done. If anything, it would take more hands than usual. Plus a state-of-the-art operating room. Youd need an operating microscope, a C-arm fluoroscope, all kinds of stuff. It might take surgeons working in shifts. Some neurosurgical operations take more than twelve hours.

So even if he is a surgeon, Miles says, he needs serious help. Trained people. Were talking a lot of money here. The ultimate object might even be money.

I start to argue, but he holds up his hand. I agree that Drewes estimate of five is high. Were talking about someone who has access to state-of-the-art voice-recognition technology. Miles quickly explains to Drewe the theory behind Strobekkers zero typographical
error rate. So whos to say he doesnt have access to computer-assisted robotic surgery, or whatever else he needs? Ive seen some prototype medical equipment thats unbelievable. I mean, we dont know
who
were dealing with. It could be the chief of neurosurgery at a major medical school.

No way, Drewe objects.

Wheres the best neurosurgery department in the world? I ask.

Columbia, she replies without hesitation.

Where else is good?

Not the places youd think. The University of Washington, Michigan, the Barrow Institute in Arizona. But Columbia turns out the majority of academic neurosurgeons in the U.S.

Im getting something from this, Miles says.

What? Columbia?

I dont know. It might come to me in a second. Might take ten years. This is where the brain is truly inferior to the computer. Ive lost a file in my own head, and I cant retrieve it no matter how hard I try.

Memories of Lenzs verbal primer on the psychology of serial killers flash through my mind. You really think the motive could just be money?

Just
money? Miles barks. Man, you must be even richer than I thought. My only question is
how
Brahma could ever make money off the procedure. Even if he succeeded at the transplant, hed be guilty of murder.

True, says Drewe. But if it worked, legitimate surgeons might begin working on the procedure.

How?

Same as any transplant. Pineals could be harvested from recently deceased persons. Your Brahma cant access legitimate donor networks because his research is illegal. Thats why he has to kidnap or kill to get donors. But if pineal transplants were proven to counter the aging process, the demand for the procedure would be unimaginable.

But
personally
hed never make a dime, I point out.

Hed be famous, though, says Miles. And with the
current legal climate, he might just get off and do a multi-million-dollar book deal.

Money and fame, murmurs Drewe. The twin gods of our society. Pretty strong motivation for the right person.

I just dont buy it, I insist.

Well, obviously theres the metaphysical side, says Miles. I mean, whoever pulled this off would be accomplishing what no one in history ever has. If you forget morality, his quest is heroic. Even noble.

Noble!

Hell, yes! Melvillian in scope. Captain Ahab with a scalpel. Mary Shelley unbound. One of his aliases
is
Prometheus, remember? Ill tell you something else. The three of us are under thirty-five. But one day were going to look down at parchment skin, shriveled breasts, limp dicks, and swollen joints that creak like ratchets when we try to move. And on that day I think well understand the fountain-of-youth motive much better than we do now.

Drewe wrinkles her nose. I think youre crude but also right. That tells us that the killer must be at least... what?

Forty-five, says Miles.

Thats the upper range limit for a serial killer, I tell them. And youre using it as a lower limit. At least thats what I got from my research.

If we go with Drewes theory, says Miles, I dont think Brahma
is
a serial killer, except by after-the-fact definition. Hes a doctor, period. A scientist. Lumping him in with Jeffrey Dahmer and John Wayne Gacy is like grouping Denton Cooley with Doc Adams from
Gunsmoke
.

Forty-five sounds good, Drewe agrees. Surgery is an acquired skill. Even gifted cutters need to be tempered.

In that instant my mind skips off track, giving me a new perspective. Were missing the forest! I declare, startling both of them. If Drewe could find out all this about the pineal gland, surely the FBI has as well?

She looks put out at my devaluation of her detective work. What do your papers say? she asks Miles.

As of last night, they werent giving more weight to
doctors than to any other group. That may have changed after Wheats head was autopsied.

I doubt it, I tell them. Do you know why?

My oracles are silent.

Weve created a single suspect brilliant enough to actually pull off this transplant thing. But thats flawed logic. It isnt necessary that he be capable of it, or that it even be possible. You see? All thats necessary is that he know about the pineal research and that he
believe
hes capable of doing a transplant. Thats what lets in the psychotic taxidermists and dentists and all the rest.

But his computer skill proves hes brilliant, argues Miles.

Brilliant with computers, says Drewe. Not necessarily medicine.

Lets say a surgeon is the brains behind this, I cut in. He trolls EROS himself, but he needs a hacker to get at our master client list, plus medical information from health insurance computers, God knows what else. Then he hires muscle to do the actual killings

That explains the rapes! cries Drewe. Its not the surgeon, its his hired thugs. Some sleazeballs are raping the women, and the surgeon doesnt care so long as he gets his pineal glands. Hes probably glad his thugs are confusing the crime scenes!

Miles is nodding. Division of labor. A surgeon could easily afford a cracker and some hired muscle.

Gross income for a neurosurgeon is nearly half a million, Drewe says. And thats an
average
.

Im definitely in the wrong business, Miles mutters.

But that theory works only if Brahmas a flake, I point out. If we postulate a man with a real chance of success, he needs a team of medical specialists to help with the operation.

And theyd realize what he was up to, says Drewe. Eventually. I dont think money would be enough motivation for medical people to take part in murder.

Miles laughs bitterly. Money is always enough motivation for some people. You two have so much of it now youve forgotten what its like to really need it.

Whether its a nut or a serious surgeon, I say
irritably, its clear why you and I are suspects. You could easily be the paid hacker. Youd be guilty of murder even though you were never at a single crime scene.

He nods soberly.

I shove back my chair, climb onto its wooden back, and perch there with my feet on the seat. Id say weve come up with some significant reasoning here. The question is, do we tell the FBI?

Fuck no, Miles says savagely. Theyve got me cast for the remake of
Midnight Express
.

I look to Drewe, but she is gazing at the kitchen curtains drawn shut against prying eyes. They know most of this already, she says softly. They must. If they dont, I dont have much faith in them.

What do you think? I ask Miles. Do they?

He averts his eyes. The groundwork is there.

They dont suspect theres an unknown victim, I press him.

He shakes his head.

Weve got to tell them about the fifty blind-draft women, Drewe says flatly. Thats nonnegotiable. One of them is dead or missing right now.