From Laurie’s side of the conversation and from knowing Laurie’s boss, Dr. Harold Bingham, Lou sensed he’d be in for a wait. He took his copy of the New York Post from his briefcase and flipped through it until he saw the story: IVY SPACE GERM DOCS DIE. He quickly reread the first few paragraphs. He had wanted to show the article to Laurie, which was one of the reasons he’d stopped by.

“Sorry, Lou,” Laurie said, hanging up the phone. “That was Bingham.”

“I assumed as much. No problem. Did you see this article?” He held up the paper.

“Yes, but not that one specifically. There was the same story in the Times.”

“Crazy and scary at the same time. It says that two researchers at Columbia contaminated themselves in a lab with some virus grown in the space station or something. The bodies were supposedly brought here to OCME. Is this all true?”

“Most of it. But the contamination agent wasn’t a virus. It was a bacteria called salmonella typhi that causes typhoid fever. Jack did both autopsies yesterday. Very sad. I understand they were stem cell researchers who were making huge strides growing human organs.”

“That’s what I understand,” Lou said. “Anything unique about the autopsies? There were some wild theories about the deaths in the article. Apparently one of the guys was a big-deal researcher who was not particularly liked by his colleagues.”

“Jack didn’t mention anything other than that he was impressed with the pathology. He’d never seen an entire gut in both patients in such bad shape. Typhoid fever isn’t usually so generalized. Anyway that was the case I was just talking to Bingham about. He expects there will be some political fallout. If there’s a press conference scheduled, he wanted to give me a heads-up that he might want me to host it. He knows Jack hates doing it and isn’t the most diplomatic.”

Lou laughed because Jack was one of the most undiplomatic men he knew. “You guys make a good pair because you complement each other.” Changing the subject, he said, “What about a bite of lunch today? Do you have time for a quick one?”

“I’m sorry, Lou, they’re dropping like flies out there.”

Lou laughed again. He was glad the public couldn’t hear the black humor that was often engaged in within the OCME walls.

“I hear you.”

Lou levered his stocky frame out of Laurie’s chair, put his trench coat back on, and made his farewells.

Chapter 42.

42.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
NEW YORK CITY
MARCH 25, 2011, 1:18 P.M.