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Chromosome 6 by Robin Cook. Chapter 10, 11

convenient and rapid DNA marker for differentiating two individuals. It

compares the DQ region of the histocompatibility complex on chromosome

six.’

‘What about the portal vein?’ Laurie asked. ‘Were there sutures in it as

well?’

‘Unfortunately, the portal vein was pretty much gone,’ Jack said. ‘Along

with a lot of the intestines.’

‘Well,’ Laurie said. ‘This should all make identification rather easy.’

‘My thought exactly,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve already got Bart Arnold hot on

the trail. He’s been in contact with the national organ procurement

organization UNOS. He’s also in the process of calling all the centers

actively doing liver transplants, especially here in the city.’

‘That’s a small list,’ Laurie said. ‘Good job, Jack.’

Jack’s face reddened slightly, and Laurie was touched. She thought he

was immune to such compliments.

‘What about the bullets?’ Laurie asked. ‘Same gun?’

‘We’ve packed them off to the police lab for ballistics,’ Jack said. ‘It

was hard to say if they came from the same gun or not because of their

distortion. One of them made direct contact with the tenth rib and was

flattened. Even the second one wasn’t in good shape. I think it grazed

the vertebral column.’

‘What calibre?’ Laurie asked.

‘Couldn’t tell from mere observation,’ Jack said.

‘What did Vinnie say?’ Laurie asked. ‘He’s become pretty good at

guessing.’

‘Vinnie’s worthless today,’ Jack said. ‘He’s been in the worst mood I’ve

ever seen him in. I asked him what he thought, but he wouldn’t say. He

told me it was my job, and that he wasn’t paid enough to be giving his

opinions all the time.’

‘You know, I had a case similar to this back during that awful Cerino

affair,’ Laurie said. She stared off and for a moment, her eyes glazed

over. ‘The victim was a secretary of the doctor who was involved with

the conspiracy. Of course, she’d not had a liver transplant, but the

head and the hands were gone, and I did make the identification because

of her surgical history.’

‘Someday you’ll have to tell me that whole grisly story,’ Jack said.

‘You keep dropping tantalizing bits and pieces.’

Laurie sighed. ‘I wish I could just forget the whole thing. It still

gives me nightmares.’

Raymond glanced at his watch as he opened the Fifth Avenue door to Dr.

Daniel Levitz’s office. It was two forty-five. Raymond had called the

doctor three times starting just after eleven a.m., without success. On

each occasion, the receptionist had promised Dr. Levitz would phone

back, but he hadn’t. In his agitated state, Raymond found the

discourtesy aggravating. Since Dr. Levitz’s office was just around the

corner from Raymond’s apartment, Raymond thought it was better to walk

over than sit by the phone.

‘Dr. Raymond Lyons,’ Raymond said with authority to the receptionist.

‘I’m here to see Dr. Levitz.’

‘Yes, Dr. Lyons,’ the receptionist said. She had the same cultivated,

matronly look as Dr. Anderson’s receptionist. ‘I don’t have you down on

my appointment sheet. Is the doctor expecting you?’

‘Not exactly,’ Raymond said.

‘Well, I’ll let the doctor know you are here,’ the receptionist said

noncommitally.

Raymond took a seat in the crowded waiting room. He picked up one of the

usual doctor waiting-room magazines and flipped the pages without

focusing on the images. His agitation was becoming tinged with

irritation, and he began to wonder if it had been a bad decision to come

to Dr. Levitz’s office.

The job of checking on the first of the other two transplant patients

had been easy. With one phone call Raymond had spoken with the

recruiting doctor in Dallas, Texas. The doctor had assured Raymond that

his kidney-transplant patient, a prominent local businessman, was doing

superbly and was in no way a possible candidate for an autopsy. Before

hanging up the doctor had promised Raymond to inform him if the

situation were ever to change.

But with Dr. Levitz’s failure to return Raymond’s phone call, Raymond

had not been able to check on the last case. It was frustrating and

anxiety-producing.

Raymond’s eyes roamed the room. It was as sumptuously appointed as Dr.

Anderson’s, with original oils, deep burgundy-colored walls, and

oriental carpets. The patients patiently waiting were all obviously

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