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Brain by Robin Cook. Chapter 8, 9

“How could that be determined?”

“Her tongue had been bitten multiple times. It’s not certain, just presumptive…”

Philips was impressed. He knew that such fine points were usually only picked up by forensic pathologists.

“Here’s the brain section,” said Reynolds. “Massive hemorrhage. There is something interesting though. A section of the cortex of the temporal lobe showed isolated nerve-cell death. Very little glial reaction. No diagnosis was advanced.”

“How about the occipital area?” asked Philips. “I saw some subtle X-ray abnormalities there.”

“One slide taken,” said Reynolds, “and that was normal.”

“Just one. Damn, I wish there had been more.”

“You might be in luck;. It indicates here the brain was fixed. Just a minute.”

Reynolds walked over to a card catalogue and pulled out the M drawer. Philips felt some mild encouragement.

“Well, it was fixed and saved but we don’t have it. Neurosurgery wanted it so I guess it’s up in the neurosurgical lab.”

After stopping to watch Denise flawlessly and efficiently perform a single-vessel angiogram, Philips headed over to surgery. Dodging patient traffic in the holding area, he walked up to the OR desk.

“I’m looking for Mannerheim,” said Philips to the blond nurse. “Any idea when he’ll be out of surgery?”

“We know exactly.”

“And what time will that be?”

“Twenty minutes ago.” The, other two nurses laughed. Apparently things were going smoothly in the OR for them to be in such good moods. “His residents are closing. Mannerheim’s in the lounge.”

Philips found Mannerheim holding court. The two visiting Japanese doctors were standing on either side of him smiling and bowing at irregular intervals. There were five other surgeons in the group, all drinking coffee. Mannerheim was holding a cigarette in the same hand as his cup. He’d given up smoking a year ago, which meant he didn’t buy any cigarettes, but borrowed them from everybody else.

“So you know what I told this smart-ass lawyer?” said Mannerheim, gesturing dramatically with his free hand. “Of course I play God. Who do you think my patients want screwing around inside their brains, a garbage man?”

The group roared with approval, and then began to disperse. Martin approached Mannerheim and looked down on him.

“Well, well, our helpful radiologist.”

“We try to please,” said Philips pleasantly.

“Well, I can tell you I did not appreciate your little joke on the phone yesterday.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a joke,” said Philips, “I’m sorry that my comment seemed out of place. I didn’t know Marino was dead and I’d noticed some very subtle abnormalities on her film.”

“You’re supposed to look at the X rays before the patient dies,” said Mannerheim nastily.

“Look, what I’m interested in discussing is that Marino’s brain was removed from her corpse.”

Mannerheim’s eyes bulged and his full face turned a dull red. Taking Philips by the arm he led him away from the two Japanese doctors.

“Let me tell you something,” he snarled, “I happen to know that you moved and X-rayed Marino’s body last night without authorization. And I can tell you this, I don’t like anybody fucking around with my patients. Especially my complications.”

“Listen,” said Martin, shaking his arm free from Mannerheim’s grasp. “My only interest is some strange X-ray abnormalities that could result in a major research breakthrough. I have no interest in your complications.”

“You’d better not. If there was something irregular done to Lisa Marino’s body, it would be on your head. You’re the only one known to have taken the body from the morgue. Keep that in mind.” Mannerheim waved a threatening finger in Philips’ face.

A sudden fear of professional vulnerability made Martin hesitate. As much as he hated to admit it, Mannerheim had a point. If it became known that Marino’s brain had been removed, the burden would be on him to prove that he didn’t do it, Denise, with whom he was having an affair, was his only witness.

“All right, let’s forget Marino,” he said. “I found another patient with the same X-ray picture. An Ellen McCarthy. Unfortunately she’d been killed in an auto accident. But she was posted here at the Med Center and the brain was fixed and turned over to Neurosurgery. I would like to get ahold of that brain.”

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Categories: Cook, Robin
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