Leaving the locker room at a fast walk, she planned her next few hours, which she sensed would also help take her mind off her grandmother’s passing. First she would need to go back into the OR suite to seek out Dr. Peyton and explain the situation. She would then rush to her apartment, get her passport, and call in the number. Then she would head over to the medical school and explain everything to the dean of students.

After passing through the main OR doors, Jennifer stopped at the main desk. While she waited to ask one of the busy head nurses if Dr. Peyton and his students were still in the anesthesia room where she’d left them, she found herself pondering a perplexing issue: How was it that she learned of her grandmother’s death from CNN, of all places, some hour and a half before she heard it from the hospital? Since she couldn’t think of a single possible explanation, she decided that once she got to India, she was going to try to ask the hospital authorities. It was her general understanding that next of kin were supposed to be notified before names were given out to the media, although it occurred to her that this might be the case only in the United States and not in India. But that thought led to another: Why was CNN even interested in putting her grandmother’s name on the air? It wasn’t as if she were a celebrity. Was it just as a lead into the issue of medical tourism? And who was this known, reliable source who claimed that her grandmother’s death was merely the tip of the iceberg?

Chapter 4

OCTOBER 15, 2007
MONDAY, 11:40 P.M.
DELHI, INDIA
(SIMULTANEOUS WITH JENNIFER’S QUESTIONING HER GRANDMOTHER’S
DEATH BEING ANNOUNCED ON CNN)

Kashmira Varini was a slim, sallow, no-nonsense woman who rarely smiled and whose skin tone was always in sharp contrast to the saris that she inevitably wore. Even late in the evening, having been called back to the hospital on an emergency basis to deal with the death of Mrs. Hernandez, she’d made the effort to dress in a freshly pressed, richly colored red-and-gold outfit. Although almost lifeless in appearance and not particularly sympathetic, she was good at what she did by conveying to patients a strong, reassuring proficiency, efficiency, and commitment, especially with the help of her superb command of English English. Although patients coming from afar for surgery were invariably scared and therefore nervous, she put them at ease the moment they got to the hospital.

“Could you hear enough from my side of the conversation to guess what Ms. Hernandez said?” Kashmira questioned. She was sitting in the hospital CEO’s office at a library table. He was seated across from her. In contrast to her elegant ethnic costume, Rajish Bhurgava, the rounded, mildly overweight CEO, was attired cowboy-style with ill-fitting jeans and a plaid flannel shirt that snapped rather than buttoned. He had his legs crossed and his cowboy boots precariously balanced on the corner of the table.