Read The Body Thief Online

Authors: Chris Taylor

Tags: #romance, #romantic suspense, #crime fiction, #contemporary romance, #romance series, #australian romance, #thrillers and suspense

The Body Thief (4 page)

She was shaking her head back and forth,
even before he finished. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m more than
content where I am. The dead need help, too. I like to listen to
their stories, help their families find peace. Someone has to care
enough to do it. Besides, haven’t you heard? Too much sun isn’t
good for the complexion. I’m thirty-four. I don’t need to hasten
the ageing process.” She grinned and was relieved when he grinned
back. “Call Mom soon, okay?” she added gently. “She worries when
she doesn’t hear from you regularly.”

“I saw her on the weekend, remember?”

“Yes, but none of us know how much longer
she’ll be here. You’re her first born child and only son. She needs
to hear from you more often,” she repeated.

He leaned over and gave her another peck on
the cheek. “Okay. Just for you. Because today’s your birthday and I
love you and I love our mom. Is that good enough?”

She nodded, unable to speak over the lump
that had lodged itself in her throat.

“I really have to go, Sammie. Nancy and I
are attending a black-tie function at the Hilton tonight. Another
joint effort between the government and the hospital. I’m expected
to meet and greet and smile for the cameras and all the while do my
best to increase awareness about organ donations. So, though I
might not call Mom as often as I should, I’m doing my bit. You’re
not the only one who wants to see her well.”

“Of course not. You care about her as much
as any of us. We all know that.”

“When is she due in again for
treatment?”

“Jessie sat with her this morning. She’ll be
back in the Dialysis Unit again from nine the day after
tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Good. I’ll do my best to drop in
and see her.”

She smiled her gratitude. “Thank you.”

“I’ll fix up the bill on my way out. Happy
birthday, Sammie. I’ll talk to you soon.” And with that, he was
gone.

CHAPTER
THREE

 

The sound of Detective Sergeant Rohan
Coleridge’s siren was as deafening as the pounding of his heart.
Another rush of adrenaline surged through him at the thought of
what lay ahead. A call had come over the radio about a two-car
pile-up that also involved a fuel tanker. He didn’t want to imagine
what might happen if the tanker was leaking and they didn’t get
there in time.

He glanced across at his partner. Detective
Bryce Sutcliffe looked equally grim. The scratchy reports they’d
obtained from dispatch had filled them both with dread. At least
one car had passengers trapped in their vehicle. Emergency response
teams from all over the city were, right now, accelerating toward
the accident. As luck would have it, Rohan and Bryce had been
interviewing a witness to an unrelated matter only a few blocks
away. Closest to the site of the accident, they now expected to be
the first responders on the scene.

Another wave of adrenaline flooded Rohan’s
veins. Mentally, he began to think about what might need to be
done. A leaking fuel tanker was a time bomb. The first thing was to
ensure the safety of any passengers who were still alive and pray
to God it wasn’t too late.

“There it is!” Bryce called out, tension in
his voice.

With a squeal of tires, Rohan swung the
squad car onto the sidewalk and braked hard. Shoving it into Park,
he leaped from the vehicle with Bryce on his heels.

“You take the white Toyota. I’ll check the
Nissan,” Rohan shouted and took off at a run.

Racing toward one of the sedans, Rohan was
relieved to see the tanker driver had made it out of his truck and
was now stumbling across the grassy verge that adjoined the
pavement. With his heart in his throat, Rohan skidded to a halt
beside the passenger door of the Nissan.

Peering through the window, he made out the
shape of two people in the front of the car. The sound of a baby
screaming reached his ears. He wrenched open the front door and
came up short. The front of the Nissan had folded in on the
occupants. Steel and plastic lay twisted and broken, leaving the
inside front compartment of the vehicle almost unrecognizable.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he shouted to the
adults in the front of the car. Both the driver and passenger were
covered in blood. Neither of them responded. Rohan checked the
passenger for a pulse and found none. Reaching across the mess of
metal wreckage, he searched the driver for signs of life. Again,
nothing.

Pulling back, he stood upright and the sharp
smell of gasoline scorched his nostrils. His heartbeat kicked into
overdrive. Any minute the tanker could blow. He looked across at
Bryce and saw that he was dragging someone out of the Toyota.

“How many?” he shouted, his panic increasing
with every passing second.

“Only the driver. He’s pretty badly hurt,
but I’ve managed to pull him free. How about you?”

Rohan shook his head at the same time he
tried to wrench open the back door. It was stuck. “It’s already too
late for the occupants in the front, but there’s a child in the
back.”

The baby’s screams increased in intensity,
along with the wail of more sirens. Rohan looked up and spied two
fire engines bearing down on them. It seemed like there were blue
and red strobe emergency lights everywhere. He pulled hard on the
door handle again and finally felt it give. With a shout of
triumph, he tore the panel open and bent down to rescue the
child.

The baby was strapped into a car seat that
was wedged hard up against the front seat. No matter what Rohan
did, he couldn’t seem to free the straps. The baby’s screaming
pierced his eardrums and yet he continued to work at a frantic
pace. The smell of gas grew stronger and he knew it was only a
matter of time. As if reading his panicked thoughts, Rohan heard
one of the fire captains shouting at the crowd.

“Clear the area! Everybody get back! This
tanker could blow at any minute.”

Working even more feverishly, Rohan cursed
when the straps continued to hold. The only way to free the child
was to cut through them.

“I need a knife!” he shouted. “For Christ’s
sake, someone bring me a knife!”

Bryce materialized at his elbow with a blade
in his hand. Rohan didn’t question where he’d gotten it from. He
was just relieved to have it.

“Rohan, we have to get out of here! That
tanker’s going to go!”

The urgency in Bryce’s voice and the panic
in his eyes told Rohan all he needed to know. This wasn’t some
training exercise where any minute the drill sergeant would blow
his whistle and call it off. This was the real thing and peoples’
lives were on the line. His, included.

Sawing through the thick straps that held
the baby in place, Rohan’s heart thumped so hard it felt like he
was about to die. The baby screamed, his face a bright red, but
Rohan continued to work away.

“Rohan! For fuck’s sake! You have to get out
of the way!”

Ignoring Bryce, he cut through the last
strap and almost collapsed with relief. With no time to linger, he
snatched up the baby and hauled the child out of the car. Running
faster than he ever had in his life, he headed for safety, away
from the tanker.

It seemed like only seconds later that he
was deafened by an enormous explosion. The ground shook from the
force of it. He stumbled and almost fell. Covering the baby’s head
with his jacket, he shielded the child from harm.

“Get down, Rohan! It could blow again!”

Rohan nodded at Bryce to show him he
understood and half-crawled, half-ran toward the row of ambulances
parked well clear of the danger zone. It seemed like a lifetime
passed before he finally reached the safety of the emergency
vehicles, the baby still in his arms. Paramedics ran toward him,
reaching for the child. He handed the screaming bundle over with a
grateful sigh.

“It’s all right, Detective. We have him. You
can let go now.”

Rohan prised his fingers open and stepped
away. Residual shock set in and he began to tremble uncontrollably.
Another paramedic came toward him and he could see the concern on
her face. A moment later, everything went fuzzy and he fell face
down on the ground.

* * *

Alistair stared at the computer screen in
front of him and scanned through his emails. Many were from
pharmaceutical companies and other medical supply businesses,
flogging their products. He looked at them briefly before
consigning them to the trash.

As he’d promised Sam at her birthday lunch,
he’d sat with their mother earlier in the day while she underwent
one of her thrice-weekly dialysis sessions and had done his best to
distract her from what was happening. Though it had only been a few
days, he’d been shocked at her appearance. Thin and sallow, she
looked like someone close to death. Sadness and panic filled his
gut. He didn’t want to believe they wouldn’t find a donor kidney,
but time was fast running out.

He cursed under his breath and a surge of
frustration flooded through him. What he’d told Sam was true. It
aggravated him beyond measure that he was the head of the Organ
Donation for Transplantation Unit in the largest hospital in
Australia and couldn’t find a single kidney for his dying
mother.

Pushing the depressing thoughts aside, he
continued to scroll through his emails. One in particular caught
his eye. It had been sent from a company purporting to be in the
business of supplying human organ and tissue to international
agencies, who then supplied the donated body parts to medical
facilities who undertook the transplants. Perhaps they could help
locate a kidney for his mother… Alistair frowned and scrolled down
further, reading as he went.

According to the email, Biologistics was a
company based in the US and had received approval for its business
from the American Food and Drug Administration. The FDA was
responsible for overseeing the legitimacy of such companies and
they’d apparently given Biologistics five stars. Doctor Charles
Shillington, the CEO of Biologistics, had contacted Alistair with a
view to making him a proposal:
Would he be interested in helping
them to supply the market?
The email implied that if his answer
was in the affirmative, he’d be extremely well compensated.

Compensated? An interesting idea. Up until
now, he’d been the one doing the compensating. It had been tough,
in addition to paying all the bills for his children, but he’d
considered the added expense an acceptable sacrifice for the worthy
work he’d been doing. To receive financial gain would make it even
more satisfying.

Alistair’s heart began to pound. Trafficking
in human tissue was illegal in most countries, including Australia
and the US. What the hell was Shillington getting at? Was the email
even legitimate? And if so, how, and why had they chosen to contact
him
?

Typing the name “Biologistics” into Google,
Alistair waited for the search results and was surprised to
discover the company had a website. Until he found it, he’d been
sure the email was a hoax. Clicking on the link, he read through
the details on the homepage.

Like the email claimed, the company was not
only legitimate and FDA approved, it had been established ten years
earlier and there were pages of testimonials from doctors lauding
the service provided by the company. A page dedicated to its CEO,
Charles Shillington, indicated the doctor had established the
company in order to fill a need. He wanted to help facilitate the
business of organ and tissue harvesting by sourcing good quality
body parts and making them available to those in need
.

And those who could afford them,
Alistair thought dryly.

Knowing he’d probably regret it, but curious
to know more, Alistair shot off a reply. Within minutes, he
received another email.

Doctor Wolfe,

I’m so pleased to receive your email. I
appreciate you have several questions about our business and
exactly what we do. To answer your first question, we found your
contact details on the Sydney Harbour Hospital website. For some
time, we’ve been looking for more people to join our team. And not
just any people. We need the right kind of people. People who
understand our goals and who are willing to work with us to help us
achieve them.

In the US alone, more than two million
products derived from human tissue change hands between suppliers
and medical facilities each year. We are in an industry that
promotes treatments and products that literally allow the blind to
see and the lame to walk. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of
that?

We are a legitimate, FDA-approved company
and while you quite rightly point out that it’s illegal to buy or
sell human tissue, it is permissible in the US to pay service fees
to cover the costs of finding, storing, and processing human
tissue. I understand the same rules might not apply in your country
and it is important that you weigh up any potential risk against
the benefits. Pleased be assured, the benefits are many.

Apart from the immense satisfaction members
of our team receive knowing they are a part of something almost
miraculous, Biologistics rewards its suppliers very generously. We
are prepared to pay a handsome sum for good and useable human
tissue. All you have to do is let us know that you would like to be
part of this exciting venture.

The email had been signed: Charles
Shillington, CEO, Biologistics. Alistair reread the email twice
more and was filled with a growing sense of excitement. He did his
best to keep it in check, but he couldn’t deny the possibility of
contributing to a tissue donation scheme on such a magnificent
scale was mind-blowing. The fact that he could make a little money
from it was an added bonus. If luck prevailed, it might even cover
some of his kids’ annual school fees. With fingers that weren’t
quite steady, he shot off another reply.

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