Jack was keyed up. After near conclusive identification of his floater as Carlo Franconi, Jack had gotten little sleep. He’d been on and off the phone with Janice, finally imploring her to get copies of all of Franconi’s records from the Manhattan General Hospital. Her preliminary investigation had determined that Franconi had been hospitalized there.

Jack had also had Janice get the phone numbers of the European human organ distribution organizations from Bart Arnold’s desk. Because of the six-hour-time difference, Jack had started calling after three A.M. He was most interested in the organization called Euro Transplant Foundation in the Netherlands. When they had no record of a Carlo Franconi as a recent liver recipient, Jack called all the national organizations whose numbers he had. They included organizations in France, England, Italy, Sweden, Hungary, and Spain. No one had heard of Carlo Franconi. On top of that, most of the people he had spoken with said that it would be rare for a foreign national to get such a transplant because most of the countries had waiting lists comprised of their own citizens.

After only a few hours of sleep, Jack’s curiosity had awakened him. Unable to get back to sleep, he’d decided to get into the morgue early to go over the material that Janice had collected.

“My word, you are eager,” Janice commented as Jack came into her office.

“This is the kind of case that makes forensics fun,” Jack said. “How’d you do at the MGH?”

“I got a lot of material,” Janice said. “Mr. Franconi had multiple admissions over the years, mostly for hepatitis and cirrhosis.”

“Ah, the plot thickens,” Jack said. “When was the last admission?”

“About two months ago,” Janice said. “But no transplant. There is mention of it, but if he had one, he didn’t have it at the MGH.” She handed Jack a large folder.

Jack hefted the package and smiled. “Guess I got a lot of reading to do.”

“It looked pretty repetitive to me,” Janice said.

“What about his doctor?” Jack asked. “Has he had one in particular or has he been playing the field?”

“One for the most part,” Janice said. “Dr. Daniel Levitz on Fifth Avenue between Sixty-fourth and Sixty-fifth Street. His office number is written on the outside of your parcel.”

“You are efficient,” Jack said.

“I try to do my best,” Janice said. “Have any luck with those European organ distribution organizations?”

“A complete strikeout,” Jack said. “Have Bart give me a call as soon as he comes in. We have to go back and retry all the transplant centers in this country now that we have a name.”

“If Bart’s not in by the time I leave, I’ll put a note on his desk,” Janice said.

Jack whistled as he walked through communications on his way to the ID room. He could taste the coffee already while dreaming of the euphoria that the first cup of the day always gave him. But when he arrived he could see he was too early. Vinnie Amendola was just in the process of making it.