Part 20 (1/2)

And he started to close the door.

But Steven was too quick for him. He inserted his foot between the door and the jamb so it was impossible for Dr. Fong to close it.

Then he said, Weve come a long way. We just want to come inside for a little while and have a word with you.

No, Dr. Fong said again. He still looked terrified. I think you must have the wrong house. I dont know you”

Uh, Christopher said, moving to stand behind Steven. Actually, I think you know Nikki Howard”or should I say Em Watts”pretty well. Or arent you one of the surgeons who worked on her brain transplant at the Stark Inst.i.tute for Neurology and Neurosurgery a few months ago? See, I read her medical file, and I know all about it. So, unless you want me to release that file to the press, youd better let us in.

Dr. Fong, looking like someone was holding a knife to his throat”which, I guess in a way, we were”thought about it a minute, then finally took a step back and let us in. We filed into a foyer that was decorated in New England chic, dark polished wood and portraits of duck-hunting dogs. Cosabella sniffed around politely but curiously.

This isnt a game, you know, Dr. Fong said resentfully when we were all inside and hed shut the door behind us. Theyll kill you if they find out you know. Theyve killed before. How do you think I got into this mess?

Hearing those words coming from such a mild-looking doctor, standing in a red plaid bathrobe in the dark stillness of his old-fas.h.i.+oned hallway, chilled me in a way the cold outside never could have.

If it chilled me, it had an even more startling effect on Lulu, who really had no idea what shed been getting herself into, climbing into Brandon Starks limo back on Centre Street in Manhattan. She grew very still”and very somber. Hearing you might be killed definitely destroyed whatever kind of party mood you might have been in. I could attest to that.

Why dont we sit down so you can tell us about it? Steven suggested, in the same calm voice hed used before. Apparently, he was used to dealing with hysterical brain surgeons.

Dr. Fong did as he asked, but it was obvious it was only because he was cornered, not because he wanted to. He padded in his slippers into the living room, a square room decorated, again, with New England scarcity, where apparently a fire had been burning earlier in the evening. It had gone out, but the smell of burning wood lingered pleasantly in the air. He turned on a single lamp on a table by the window, but only after hed made sure to close every set of curtains in the room, glancing out each window in a paranoid manner to make sure there were no other cars on the road but ours.

Youre sure you werent followed? he demanded.

Christopher and I exchanged glances. I had actually been paying attention to this, psycho as this made me seem.

Yes, I said. And no, we werent.

You couldnt have picked a less obtrusive vehicle? Dr. Fong demanded. You think a stretch limo wont be noticed around here?

We didnt have a choice, I said, taken aback.

Dr. Fong looked around”at Lulu, still in her chauffeur cap and poofy-skirted party dress, perched on the edge of a Chippendale chair; Steven standing tense and at attention by the foyer door, as if expecting Stark to burst in at any moment; and Christopher and I standing by the dead hearth, Cosabella sitting at our feet, staring at Dr. Fong, who looked totally confused in his pajamas and robe, with his black hair sticking up a little in the middle. It was clear from his expression he wasnt very impressed by what he saw.

Is there, I asked, because the thought had just occurred to me, a Mrs. Fong?

Dr. Fong looked scornful. No, he said. No, my mother doesnt live with me.

Id meant did he have a wife, but I guess that answered my question, anyway.

Why, Christopher demanded, cutting straight to the chase, is an ex-boyfriend of Nikki Howards getting e-mails from someone using a computer in this house?

Dr. Fong suddenly buried his face in his hands. Then he turned and marched over to a small secretary, opened it, took out a cut crystal decanter of whisky, and, with shaking fingers, poured himself a gla.s.s.

Then he downed the entire contents of the gla.s.s in one go. And poured himself another.

This one he carried over to the couch, onto which he sank down next to Cosabella, whod helped herself to the comfiest seat in the house. When he turned to face us, I was shocked to see hed gone white as the sails on the picture of the s.h.i.+p hanging on the wall above his head.

Who else knows about this? he asked.

No one, I said, glancing over at Steven. I mean, except everyone in this room. And the person who traced the e-mail to here.

Will he tell anyone? Dr. Fong asked, raising the gla.s.s to his lips with trembling fingers.

No, I said. I crossed the room to sink into an armchair across from the couch where Dr. Fong was sitting. Dr. Fong. What is going on?

Dr. Fong didnt say anything for a moment. He just stared into the amber depths of his drink. When he finally did speak, it was to ask, Do you know what the Hippocratic oath is?

Lulu looked blank. Steven still looked like he wanted someone to come bursting in through the door so he could karate chop them or something.

Christopher said finally, Yeah. Its something all doctors have to swear before they can begin practicing medicine.

First, I said, do no harm.

Thats right, Dr. Fong said. At the Stark Inst.i.tute, thats what we tell ourselves were doing. No harm. Were transplanting brains from horribly deformed bodies that otherwise wouldnt survive into healthy bodies belonging to brain-dead donors so that our patients have another chance at life. Thats what happened to you. He looked up at me. Ive been working at the Stark Inst.i.tute for ten years, and Ive never for a moment questioned the morality of what we do there. Until the day of your accident.

His gaze flitted around the room, looking from Steven to Christopher to me.

What happened that day? I asked, my voice rough. I coughed to clear it.

I was only a.s.sisting, Dr. Fong said, his gaze looking far away. Dr. Holcombe was in charge of your case. Nikki Howard was far too important to be handled by anyone but him. Normally, I run the teaching wing of the inst.i.tute”

Teaching wing? I interrupted.

Yes, of course, Dr. Fong said. The demand for transplants is so high that theres a waiting list. But its several years long, and some patients cant”or dont want to”wait. So, for a fee, surgeons from around the world can come to the inst.i.tute and well train them to perform the surgery themselves. We allow them to practice on donor bodies”

Donor bodies? I was horrified. Christopher threw me an annoyed look for interrupting again, but I couldnt help it. Donor bodies?

Oh, we have quite a lot of them, Dr. Fong explained. All sorts of individuals whove been declared legally brain dead and whove donated their bodies to science. Sadly, theres no shortage of individuals in vegetative states thanks to accidents and, quite often, drug and alcohol overdoses. What we dont have, of course, are viable brains to put in them, and thats what patients like you provide”

I held up a hand, too sickened to hear more. Never mind, I said. Go on.

Well, Dr. Fong said. As I was saying, obviously Dr. Holcombe and Dr. Higgins were the main surgeons on your case. But there was somethinG.o.dd about your surgery. I was told by Dr. Holcombe that Nikki Howard had had a family history of genetic brain defects and that was what killed her.

I saw Lulu look more confused than ever. When no one else, however, reacted to Dr. Fongs reference to the fact that I was dead, when there I was, clearly alive, she didnt say anything.

After he was done st.i.tching you up, I did something Id never do, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, Dr. Fong went on. I went to examine the exhumed matter. Ive always been interested in brain anomalies, and I wanted to see what Nikki Howards was.

Somewhere upstairs, I heard a door open and close, and then some thumping sounds. Someone was walking around above our heads. Dr. Fong, however, didnt appear to notice.

But Nikki Howard hadnt any brain anomaly. Hers was perfect. There was no defect. The aneurysm Dr. Holcombe claimed she had suffered? The whole reason for her death and this emergency transplant in the first place? It hadnt happened. She was completely healthy.

I looked over at Christopher. He had said there were no accidents. Does anyone really know what happened to Nikki that day? hed asked. She went down and never got back up again. Stark says it was an aneurysmbut how do we know?

And now we had our answer. It hadnt been an accident. He looked back at me, smugly satisfied that hed been right.

Thenwhat did they do to her? I asked him. To make her pa.s.s out like that?