“My word,” Laurie exclaimed. “You are right. This is not suicide.”

“And that is not all,” Jack said. “The path of the bullet is steeply downward such that it ended up in the subcutaneous tissues of the neck.”

“How can you guys read so much into this?” Vinnie asked.

“It’s easy,” Laurie said. “When someone shoots themselves, they almost always place the barrel against the skin. What happens then is the explosive gases go into the wound along with the bullet. The resultant entrance wound becomes raggedly stellate as the skin blows away from the skull and tears.”

“And you see this stippling?” Jack said, pointing with the handle of a scalpel to the ring of black spots around the wound. “That’s all gunpowder residue. In a suicide, all that goes into the wound.” Then, turning back to Laurie, he asked, “How far away do you think the barrel was when the gun was fired?”

Laurie shrugged. “Maybe fifteen to twenty inches.”

“That’s exactly my thought,” Jack agreed. “And I think our victim was lying down when it happened.”

“You’d better let the boss know as soon as possible,” Laurie advised. “This is the kind of case that invariably has political fallout.”

“That’s my plan,” Jack said. “It’s amazing, isn’t it, how many cases we see where the manner of death is different after the autopsy than what it was thought to be before.”

“It’s what makes our job so important,” Laurie said.

“Hey!” Jack voiced. “Did you get to see Calvin yet?”

“Oh, yeah!” Laurie said remembering her mission. “That’s why I popped down here. I’m on my way to Travisa to get our Indian visas. Calvin has given us the green light for a week.”

“Damn,” Jack said, but then he laughed before Laurie could get miffed.

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

OCTOBER 17, 2007
WEDNESDAY, 7:40 P.M.
NEW DELHI, INDIA

Raj Khatwani cracked the door from the stairwell and peered out into the wedge of the third-floor corridor of the Aesculapian Medical Center hospital that was visible. There was no one in his line of sight, but he could hear a medication cart approaching with its characteristic rattling of glass against glass. He let the door close. Through its fire-resistant thickness, he heard the cart roll past.

Leaning back against the concrete-block wall, he tried to control his breathing. With the tension he was experiencing, it was difficult. Sweat dotted the upper part of his forehead. All he could think of was his new respect for Veena and Samira. Now that he was in the middle of putting his first patient to sleep, he realized it was a lot more stressful than he had anticipated, especially after Samira had told him it was a breeze. Some breeze, he thought grudgingly.