7

11:23 A.M., MONDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2008
NEW YORK CITY
(6:23 P.M., CAIRO, EGYPT)

Make sure you disinfect the outside of all the culture tubes and the histology specimen bottles,” Jack said to Vinnie at the conclusion of the meningitis case. “I’m serious. I don’t want to find out later that it didn’t happen and you saying you forgot, understand?”

“I got it,” Vinnie complained. “You already told me the same thing two minutes ago. What do you think I am, stupid?”

Vinnie caught Jack’s expression through the plastic face mask of his hood and quickly added: “Don’t answer that.”

Jack hadn’t planned on using a hood with a HEPA filter, but he could tell that Vinnie was uncomfortable without one, and his pride wouldn’t let him use one unless Jack did. So at the last minute Jack relented for Vinnie’s sake. As a rule, Jack didn’t like using a hood and the moon suit because they were cumbersome and hard to work in. But as the case proceeded, he was glad he’d changed his mind. The virulence of this particular strain of menin gococcus was impressive by dint of the damage it had done to the meninges and the brain itself.

Since they’d done the case in the decomposed room and there were no other mortuary techs around, Jack helped Vinnie get the body into a body bag and onto a gurney. After reminding Vinnie to inform the receiving funeral home that it was an infectious case, Jack removed the moon suit and hood, stripped off and disposed of the Tyvek coverall, and headed up to his office.

His first call was to the deceased teen’s private school. Although it was an OCME rule that the public relations office handled all official communication, Jack often took it upon himself to buck protocol. He wanted to be absolutely sure certain things got done, and alerting the school in this instance was one of them. With the evidence of the bacteria’s destructive power fresh in his mind, Jack spoke frankly to the headmaster, who assured him that the institution was taking the tragedy to heart. The city epidemiologist had already been there, and extensive decontamination and quarantine had begun. He was appreciative of Jack’s concern and effort, and said as much.

Jack’s next call was to Robert Farrell, one of Keara’s friends. After more than half a dozen rings, the man finally answered, apologizing for the delay. But his tone changed when Jack identified himself as a medical examiner.

“I understand you were one of a group out drinking last night along with Keara Abelard and brought her into Saint Luke’s emergency room.”

“We could tell she was really sick,” Farrell responded.

“Are you aware of the outcome?”

“The outcome of our bringing her to the ER?”

“I’m talking about her outcome.”

“I heard she died after we left.”

Jack’s cynicism antenna went up. “Did that surprise you?”

“Sure. She was young.”

“Young people don’t usually die.”

“That’s why I’m surprised.”