The Body Thief by Chris Taylor Page B

him to
cremate healthy, useable organs or put them in the ground. Skin
from deceased persons could totally transform the lives of victims
suffering from severe burns and protect them from life-threatening
bacterial infections and it had done wonders for breast
reconstructive surgery. As far as he was concerned, there were only
positive gains to be had from increasing the supply of human
tissue.
    Moving to the feet of the patient, he ran
his scalpel across the woman’s ankles. With an efficiency that came
from experience, he stripped away the tendons and ligaments. He did
the same to her wrists and carefully stored the tissues in the
special containers that were used for that purpose. He could only
hope the woman didn’t end up at the funeral home where his sister’s
friend worked.
    Thinking of Sam and Hannah and the fact that
they’d gone to the police gave him a moment’s pause. Ever since
Samantha had told him, it had been playing on his mind. He was more
than concerned that at least two individuals had noticed his
handiwork.
    He should have known better than to
illegally harvest tissues from a patient tagged for an autopsy, but
after Sam’s birthday, when she’d first mentioned the increase in
donor bodies, he’d talked to Richard and the man had assured him
again the only pathologist to handle Alistair’s bodies would be
him.
    That obviously hadn’t happened, or Sam
wouldn’t have seen what she did. He remembered the patient she
spoke of. He’d been at work when he’d been paged by the ICU. In
accordance with the State law and hospital protocol, he’d called
Richard and had obtained his authority to harvest prior to the post
mortem. At that time, Richard assured Alistair he’d conduct the PM
himself. To make things worse, Alistair now had an embalmer from a
funeral home taking note of the number of donor bodies coming her
way. To have Hannah Langdon question the anomalies was just another
thorn in his side.
    The best thing to do would be to stop the
illegal harvesting, at least until the interest in it had died
down. Hell, thanks to his sister and her friend, even now he might
have an over enthusiastic police sergeant about to knock on his
door asking questions. He had no way of knowing how serious the
officer had taken the girls’ concerns, but even so, it would be
wise to keep a low profile for a little while.
    He could always start up again in summer,
but it would mean breaching his contract and that could be the end
of the money until things picked up again. Furthermore, there was
no guarantee Biologistics would rehire him. In fact, more likely
the opposite. Charles Shillington probably wouldn’t want anything
to do with him if he couldn’t come up with the contracted
goods.
    With a sigh, Alistair sutured the woman’s
wounds closed and then covered her with a sheet. He was still in a
quandary about what to do. Switching off the respirator, he waited
a little while and then called a porter to transport the body to
the hospital morgue. She’d be collected by whatever funeral home or
crematorium the family had arranged, and with a bit of luck, that
would be the end of it.
    He wished he believed deep in his gut that
it would be that simple. When had life become so complicated…?
    * * *
    Rohan swung the unmarked squad car alongside
the curb and killed the engine. A large, bold sign fixed to the
fence bordering the nearest property announced to the world that it
was Forsyth’s Funeral Home. He glanced across at his partner who
sat beside him.
    “Have you ever been inside a funeral home,
Bryce?”
    “Nope, but it can’t be any worse than the
morgue and I’ve pulled that short straw on more than one
occasion.”
    Rohan chuckled. “There are close to fifty
funeral homes in the vicinity of the Sydney Harbour Hospital. For
this stage of the investigation, I’ve chosen the five that are
closest. I want to determine whether any other funeral homes have
noticed an increase in donor bodies or other