this is a business. Somebody's taking orders."
"Great. I'm a takeaway."
"Pretty much. The conversation you heard, they talked about getting names from somebody called Sansom. I think whoever he is, he's helping them find the donors. But somebody else is finding the clients and arranging the accidents, and they're doing it for a lot of money."
"Sleazy Bob?"
"Maybe. I don't know."
"Wouldn't he be better off skimming the casino? That'd be a lot easier."
"That would bring in, what? A few thousand? That's pocket money compared to this. Remember the fuss a couple of years ago when they made organ donations opt-out rather than opt-in?"
I shake my head.
"Really? It was all over the news."
"Nope."
"You're useless."
"So what was all the fuss about?"
"Too many patients, not enough donors. The way it used to work, as I'm sure you know --" Amy arches an eyebrow -- "is that hospitals wouldn't be able to use people's organs if they weren't registered donors. Problem was, hardly anybody registered. So they changed it."
"To opt-out?"
"Yeah. If you're on your last legs and you haven't registered to say that you don't want to be a donor, they're slicing and dicing before you're even cold."
"You've lost me. If they've changed the rules, why do you think that's what Sleazy Bob's doing?"
"Changing the rules wouldn't make that much difference. As long as you've got more old people than young people you're going to have loads of people needing organs and not getting them. If I'm right, and I'm sure I am -- I know I am -- then finding a way around that is going to involve serious, serious money. The sort of money that makes IVF look cheap."
Amy's up and pacing around. "You've seen the money the IVF guys make," she says. I have. Of all the casino customers, they're the ones with the most cash. Insufferable arses the lot of them, of course, but without them my tips would be a lot lighter. "This is the same, times a hundred. Desperate old people with loads of money chasing something only a few young people can provide, so the price goes into orbit. The difference is, with IVF people will sell what they've got, because they'll still be around to spend the money. You can't really do that with a heart, or a liver, or stuff like that. So anyone who can provide those things can name their price."
Amy's in full flight now. "You're old, and you're rich, and you're dying because some important bit or other has worn out. Meanwhile, somebody's walking around with just the thing you need. What are you going to do? Do you hang around, praying and crossing your fingers, hoping that the right person has a really nasty accident before it's too late and that it's your number the hospital calls? Or do you use some of your money to speed things up?"
"It's like a website. Pay extra for guaranteed delivery by whenever."
"Yep," Amy says. "Pretty much the same thing, but instead of 1-Click it's 1-Kill."
By the fourth cup of coffee the caffeine is finally working its magic. For the next ten minutes I try to find a flaw in Amy's argument, but she's ahead of me every time. If there's another explanation, neither of us can even imagine what it might be.
"Okay," I say. "We know why it's happening. What we don't know is who's doing it. We know Sleazy Bob's involved, and we know somebody called Sansom is giving them names. But there are at least two other people, the ones Dave and I overheard at the golf course."
"Can you remember anything else about them? An accent, maybe? Anything that'd help us work out who they are?"
"No, I don't think so. But one of them was definitely the brains, the one in charge, because the other two seemed to be intimidated by him. The other guy sounded like he was muscle, or maybe the guy who organises the muscle. Maybe the bug will help us work out who they are."
"Maybe. But I don't think we should just sit on our hands and wait either. We need to try and find out who Sansom is."
"Dave's on it. I'll ask him when I see him
"Great. I'm a takeaway."
"Pretty much. The conversation you heard, they talked about getting names from somebody called Sansom. I think whoever he is, he's helping them find the donors. But somebody else is finding the clients and arranging the accidents, and they're doing it for a lot of money."
"Sleazy Bob?"
"Maybe. I don't know."
"Wouldn't he be better off skimming the casino? That'd be a lot easier."
"That would bring in, what? A few thousand? That's pocket money compared to this. Remember the fuss a couple of years ago when they made organ donations opt-out rather than opt-in?"
I shake my head.
"Really? It was all over the news."
"Nope."
"You're useless."
"So what was all the fuss about?"
"Too many patients, not enough donors. The way it used to work, as I'm sure you know --" Amy arches an eyebrow -- "is that hospitals wouldn't be able to use people's organs if they weren't registered donors. Problem was, hardly anybody registered. So they changed it."
"To opt-out?"
"Yeah. If you're on your last legs and you haven't registered to say that you don't want to be a donor, they're slicing and dicing before you're even cold."
"You've lost me. If they've changed the rules, why do you think that's what Sleazy Bob's doing?"
"Changing the rules wouldn't make that much difference. As long as you've got more old people than young people you're going to have loads of people needing organs and not getting them. If I'm right, and I'm sure I am -- I know I am -- then finding a way around that is going to involve serious, serious money. The sort of money that makes IVF look cheap."
Amy's up and pacing around. "You've seen the money the IVF guys make," she says. I have. Of all the casino customers, they're the ones with the most cash. Insufferable arses the lot of them, of course, but without them my tips would be a lot lighter. "This is the same, times a hundred. Desperate old people with loads of money chasing something only a few young people can provide, so the price goes into orbit. The difference is, with IVF people will sell what they've got, because they'll still be around to spend the money. You can't really do that with a heart, or a liver, or stuff like that. So anyone who can provide those things can name their price."
Amy's in full flight now. "You're old, and you're rich, and you're dying because some important bit or other has worn out. Meanwhile, somebody's walking around with just the thing you need. What are you going to do? Do you hang around, praying and crossing your fingers, hoping that the right person has a really nasty accident before it's too late and that it's your number the hospital calls? Or do you use some of your money to speed things up?"
"It's like a website. Pay extra for guaranteed delivery by whenever."
"Yep," Amy says. "Pretty much the same thing, but instead of 1-Click it's 1-Kill."
By the fourth cup of coffee the caffeine is finally working its magic. For the next ten minutes I try to find a flaw in Amy's argument, but she's ahead of me every time. If there's another explanation, neither of us can even imagine what it might be.
"Okay," I say. "We know why it's happening. What we don't know is who's doing it. We know Sleazy Bob's involved, and we know somebody called Sansom is giving them names. But there are at least two other people, the ones Dave and I overheard at the golf course."
"Can you remember anything else about them? An accent, maybe? Anything that'd help us work out who they are?"
"No, I don't think so. But one of them was definitely the brains, the one in charge, because the other two seemed to be intimidated by him. The other guy sounded like he was muscle, or maybe the guy who organises the muscle. Maybe the bug will help us work out who they are."
"Maybe. But I don't think we should just sit on our hands and wait either. We need to try and find out who Sansom is."
"Dave's on it. I'll ask him when I see him
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