Cure

Epilogue

April 1, 2010

Thursday, 10:49 a.m.

New York City

Detective Captain Lou Soldano surprised himself by finding a legal parking place on Laurie and Jack’s street just two doors away from their house. Both had taken an indefinite leave of absence from OCME after the trauma of John Junior’s short but emotionally traumatic kidnapping. Although Lou had not seen them face-to-face since that fateful Friday, he had spoken with them on the phone on several occasions, the last time being the previous evening when Lou had set up the current meeting for today. Until now, he had felt they needed their privacy.

After climbing the five steps to the stoop and ringing the bell, Lou checked his watch. It was now ten minutes before the onset of the raids, which were going to occur simultaneously at their three separate locations. The knowledge that they were about to take place gave Lou a great sense of satisfaction as well as excitement. At the same time, he felt a bit badly about not participating, but since there was no way he could be at all three locations at once, he’d decided to be at none and celebrate their occurrence with Laurie, since she was most responsible for the raids taking place. It had been a combination of her intuition, doggedness, and investigative forensic intelligence that had made her see a homicide where others saw a natural death. She had been the one to connect the homicide to organized crime — specifically, the working relationship existing between the Mafia and the Japanese Yakuza.

The door opened, and Jack and Lou greeted each other warmly. “You don’t have to schedule a formal visit,” Jack admonished as they climbed the stairs. “You can always just drop in.”

“Under the circumstances, I thought it best to call,” Lou explained. “Kidnappings are rather unique emotional events, to say the least. How is everybody doing?”

“Everybody is doing fine, except for me,” Jack joked. “JJ seemed entirely normal as soon as he woke up from his anesthetic, and has been normal ever since, provided you believe the behavior of a normal one-and-a-half-year-old is normal.”

“I vaguely remember,” Lou said. Both his kids were out of college.

“The only problem is that Laurie continues to blame herself for the kidnapping episode, no matter what anyone says. And now she’s having this internal battle about whether she wants to be a full-time mom or a mom who also happens to be a world-class medical examiner. Please talk to her. I can’t, because I’m happy either way. I want her to do what she wants to do.”

They passed the kitchen and walked into the family room. Laurie got up from the couch and gave Lou a sustained hug, thanking him profusely for suggesting that they use Grover and Colt of CRT.

“It made all the difference in the world,” Laurie said, tears coming to her eyes and embarrassing Lou in the process.

“I just thought they could get JJ back faster,” Lou mumbled, trying to downplay his role in the affair.

“Faster!” Laurie blurted. “They got him back the very next day. It was like a miracle. If they’d not helped us, I’m convinced JJ would still be in the hands of the kidnappers.”

“No doubt,” Lou said. “Did Grover and Colt confirm to you why JJ was snatched?”

“No, we only spoke to them once, and that was on Monday. They called briefly, just to check in on JJ. We haven’t spoken to them since, because they told us they were off on a case in Venezuela that very evening.”

“Just as they had guessed, the kidnapping was done as a late, desperate effort to deter you from working on the Satoshi Machita case. Any ransom demand was going to be mere icing on the cake. They were afraid of you, Laurie, not OCME in general, just you.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Laurie said.

“And it doesn’t speak very well for the rest of us at OCME,” Jack said, trying to inject an element of humor. Jack bent down and picked up JJ, who felt ignored by the grown-ups and was letting everyone know.

“It might seem hard to believe to you, Laurie,” Lou said, “but not to those in the NYPD, the FBI, CIA, and Secret Service. Your recent work with the Satoshi Machita case combined with JJ’s kidnapping resulted in the formation of the most efficient task force I’ve ever been part of. Since Sunday, this task force has accomplished months’ worth of highly successful investigation, such that...”

Lou paused to look at his watch. It was three minutes before eleven.

“Such that what?” Laurie questioned.

“This is super-secret,” Lou said, lowering his voice for effect, “but in two minutes at three locations, representatives of the four agencies I just mentioned will be raiding three private companies: iPS USA, headed by Benjamin Corey; Dominick’s Financial Services, headed by Vincent Dominick; and Pacific Rim Wealth Management, headed by Saboru Fukuda. All computers, storage devices, and documents will be confiscated, and all the principals will be arrested, including CEOs, CFOs, COOs. This is going to be a big deal. I can feel it in my bones. It’s going to have a big effect on Mob cooperation with the Japanese Yakuza, if it doesn’t sever it completely. It’ll seriously reduce the ballooning crystal meth problem here in the Big Apple. Thank you, Laurie. You are an asset to the city, so when you consider whether you want to be just a mom or a mom with a career, please keep in mind that you will be sorely missed if you choose the former.”

Laurie glared at Jack, feigning anger. “Have you been talking about me?”

“I always talk about you,” Jack confessed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But I assure you I had zero input into Lou’s assessment.”

FBI Special Agent Gene Stackhouse had been selected as the overall leader of the task force comprising representatives of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Central Intelligence Agency, the Secret Service, and the New York City Police Department. He, like the other agents except for the group from the NYPD, was dressed in a dark blue uniform with black lettering indicating his agency. Most carried weapons, either Glocks or M15 rifles. The NYPD agents, all SWAT team members, were dressed in the usual black and carried a wider variety of firepower. Everyone wore helmets and bulletproof vests. Everyone had been fully briefed and were impatient for the word “go!”

Special Agent Stackhouse was particularly wired and ready to explode into the highly choreographed activity he’d planned the moment the second hand of his chronograph reached twelve. The start time was to be exactly eleven o’clock a.m. at all three sites to eliminate any chance of one company calling another to hide evidence.

“Masks on!” he yelled, as the second hand of his watch passed three. A small microphone clipped to his shoulder epaulet flap conveyed his voice to all nine unmarked vans: three at each location, with six people in each van, for a total of fifty-four law-enforcement officers.

Gene Stackhouse was in the passenger seat of the first van at his location, which was on the left side of Fifth Avenue just north of 57th Street. The two other vans were directly behind. When the second hand swept past the number eleven, he counted: “ten, nine, eight...” He unsnapped his holstered Glock pistol. “Four, three, two, one. Go!” All four doors of the three vans sprang open, shocking the various pedestrians on Fifth Avenue. The team dashed across the wide sidewalk, threw open the doors of the building where iPS USA was quartered, and swarmed the security desk. The guards were ordered not to communicate with any of the building’s tenants, particularly iPS USA.

“What’s going on?” one of the building security guards demanded, trying to sound authoritative. He’d been impressed and terrified at seeing the intruders’ firepower but relieved when he saw FBI, SECRET SERVICE, CIA, and NYPD on the backs of jackets.

“We are executing a number of warrants.” Stackhouse yelled, directing his men toward a waiting elevator. “Remain seated! No talking! No phoning!” Snapping his fingers toward a CIA agent, Stackhouse directed him to stay with the building’s security people to make sure the orders were followed.

Once all the remaining agents were in the elevator, its doors closed and it shot up to the iPS USA floor. When it arrived, it was as if the elevator belched out the eager agents, who dashed past the shocked Clair Bourse and fanned out in the iPS USA office in predetermined directions. Clair would have screamed if she hadn’t been so immobilized by one of the initial agents running directly up to her, pointing his gun at her, and commanding, “Freeze!” The idea of the rapid, assault-like entrance was to deny anyone the opportunity to do anything at all to any evidence. Jacqueline, hearing the freeze command out in reception, had reached behind her to try to close the safe but had been specifically commanded not to do so by the two agents who had charged into her office.

Having studied the floor plan in advance, everyone knew exactly where to go. Stackhouse and another FBI agent, Tony Gualario, had run directly to Benjamin Corey’s corner office. They caught the CEO and the CFO, Carl Harris, having a meeting.

As Stackhouse and Gualario swept into the room with their pistols drawn, Ben started to leap to his feet.

“Remain seated!” Stackhouse commanded. He leveled his gun at Ben, who immediately sank back into his leather desk chair. The same thing transpired with Gualario, who was aiming his weapon at Carl.

“Are you Benjamin Corey of five-ninety-one Edgewood Road in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey?” Stackhouse demanded.

“I am,” Ben said with shock that quickly changed to fear. Suddenly he knew exactly what was happening.

“I am Special Agent Gene Stackhouse of the FBI. I am here to execute a number of warrants, including the search of iPS USA and seizure of all evidence pertaining to money laundering, wire fraud, mail fraud, conspiracy to defraud the U.S. government, and tax evasion. I also have a warrant for your arrest for violation of the same federal statutes.”

Stackhouse paused, cleared his throat, and pulled out a single sheet of paper from his pocket. “I have yet another warrant for your arrest, but I better read it, since I’ve never personally served such a warrant.” He cleared his throat again. “Interpol arrest warrant: IP10067892431. Benjamin G. Corey of Five-ninety-one Edgewood Road, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, USA. Interpol requests the arrest and extradition from the USA to Japan of the above named individual, pursuant to treaty arrangements between the two countries to stand trial for first-degree murder on or about February twenty-eighth, 2010, in the Prefecture of Kyoto, Japan.”

“What?” Ben demanded. “I never—”

“Hold up!” Stackhouse ordered. “Don’t say anything until I Mirandize you.”

“I found the missing lab books,” one of the FBI agents said, coming in through the connecting door from Jacqueline’s office and presenting them to Stackhouse.

“That’s great, George,” Stackhouse said, seeing the two blue books and recognizing George by his voice. “The Japanese government will be pleased. But let me finish up here reading the Miranda rights. If you want to do something else useful, call the other two teams and make sure their raids have gone down as planned.”

Stackhouse cleared his throat again. He’d taken out a three-by-five card, on which he’d written the Miranda rights, to be sure he got them right.

“I already know my Miranda rights,” Ben groused. He was incensed that the Japanese government would charge him with a crime that he’d gone out of his way to try to prevent.

“I still have to read them,” Stackhouse insisted, and he proceeded to do so, as did Tony with Carl.

After Ben and Carl had been handcuffed, George came back into Ben’s office. “Both the other raids went flawlessly,” he said. “All the principals have been arrested, and a ton of evidence has been collected.”

“Perfect,” Stackhouse said. “Let’s get on with collecting all the evidence in this office. Remember! We’re to get everything: every computer, storage device, fax machine, and cell phone. Plus every document, letter, or memorandum. Let’s do it!”

APRIL 18, 2010

SUNDAY, 1:45 p.m.

NEW YORK CITY

Here he comes,” Laurie said, spotting Lou Soldano walking north on Columbus Avenue. Laurie, Jack, and JJ were sitting at an outside table at one of their favorite haunts, Espresso Et. Al., which was located just south of the Museum of Natural History. Actually, only Laurie and Jack were sitting, because JJ was, at the moment, sleeping in his reclined stroller. Thanks to the café’s location on the east side of the avenue, it was catching all the sunshine available on a beautiful, warm spring day.

Laurie scraped back her metal chair and waved her hands above her head to get Lou’s attention. Lou waved back and adjusted his trajectory so as not to have to wade through the long line at the café’s main entrance. Instead, he simply stepped over the low chain stretched between potted plants that defined the café’s outdoor terrace.

After a quick hug with Laurie and a high five with Jack, Lou sat down in the chair saved for him. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed, with his hair brushed haphazardly and his eyelids still heavy with sleep. He had, however, taken the time to shave, and there was still a bit of shaving cream clinging to his right earlobe.

“Thanks for coming to see us,” Laurie said.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Lou said. “I’m glad you got me out. It’s such a beautiful day. It would have been a shame to have wasted it vegetating on my couch, which is probably what I would have done had you not called. So tell me, what’s this good news you have to share? Is it what I’m hoping it is?”

“That I don’t know.” Laurie laughed. “Anyway, I’m going back to OCME!”

“Terrific!” Lou said sincerely. He raised his hand and high-fived Laurie. “I was hoping that was what you’d say. Visiting OCME is just not the same if the only person I get to see is boring old Jack. Congratulations! When is it going to happen?”

“A week from tomorrow,” Laurie said. “The chief has been so good about it, I can’t tell you.”

“He’s not being good, he’s being smart,” Lou responded.

“Hear, hear!” Jack said, raising his wineglass for a toast. Then, remembering that Lou was “wineless,” he sat up in his chair, looking for their waitress.

“I couldn’t be happier for you,” Lou said, leaning over toward Laurie. “Of course, that’s at least partially a selfish response. I’ve been missing you at OCME since your maternity leave started. But beyond being selfish, I think it is the best decision for you and JJ. You are so good at being a forensic pathologist, and you seem to get a lot of secondary gain out of it. I thought you’d go back, but to be truthful, I thought it would take more time for you to realize you could and still be a great mom. If you don’t mind me asking, can you tell me what made you decide so quickly?”

“It certainly wasn’t one thing, but rather a host of things. First of all, there was the tragedy of Leticia’s death, which I don’t want to be entirely in vain. Maybe that sounds a bit strange, but not to me. She died because she was taking care of JJ so I could go back to work. Somehow I think I owe it to her memory to do it.”

“That doesn’t sound strange to me at all.”

“I also recognized that kidnapping JJ to get me off a case was a one-in-a-million phenomenon. It’s not going to happen again. But the most important realization is that there are people out there who are absolutely superb nannies and love being nannies, and have made it a true goal of being the best nannies they can be. For me to be comfortable working, I need someone who truly wants to be with JJ full-time and who is also willing to be my partner so I can remain as involved as possible. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do,” Lou said. “You need someone who will be as good a mom and as attentive to JJ as you would be if you weren’t going to have a career as well as be a mom. If push comes to shove, JJ’s needs trump any career ambitions—”

Jack interrupted Lou, having gotten the attention of the waitress. “We’re having a Vermentino. Do you want to try it, or do you want something else? We’re also having Caesar salads with chicken. What do you say?”

“Whatever,” Lou said with a wave. He was a meatloaf-and-gravy sort of guy, except when he was with Jack and Laurie. Besides, at the moment, he was more interested in the conversation with Laurie than what kind of wine and food he wanted. “I suppose the fact that you are coming back so quickly means you have already found someone whom you believe fits the bill?”

“I believe I have,” Laurie admitted. “I put out a feeler about a week ago to all my friends, particularly my college friends, and found an Irish woman who had been the nanny for a woman I knew in college whose two children are now teenagers. My friend had actually been trying to find a placement for the nanny, since she’d been so loved she’d practically become part of the family. When I met the woman, I knew she was perfect from the very first words out of her mouth. And she’s willing to live in. I mean, being a nanny is her life’s mission.”

“All right! Let’s try that toast again!” Jack said when the waitress brought Lou’s glass of Vermentino. Jack held up his own glass of wine, and the others followed suit. “To Laurie’s return to OCME; to JJ’s resilience, since he’s been acting entirely normal; and to Leticia’s memory and scholarship fund!”

The three friends clicked glasses and then took healthy swallows of their wine.

“What’s this about a scholarship fund?” Lou asked after putting down his wineglass.

“We tried to think of something to honor Leticia’s memory,” Jack said. “A neighborhood college-scholarship fund was what we came up with. Laurie has been in contact with Columbia University, and they seem to like the idea as a nice addition to their efforts of neighborhood outreach. Laurie and I have already started the funding by setting up a yearly stipend and inviting others to do the same. Plus, we’ve also started planning various neighborhood fund-raisers. We think it will be good for the community.”

“I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate,” Lou said. “Great idea!”

“What’s been going on in the legal arena?” Laurie asked. “I’ve been curious ever since you stopped by the house and told us about the corporate raids.”

“It’s been a mixed bag, as usual,” Lou said. “All the big honchos have been bonded from all three companies except for Benjamin Corey. They are all to be arraigned this week and, of course, all will plead not guilty, including Corey. What the prosecution is doing now is putting serious rollover pressure on the lesser officers to cop a plea in exchange for testimony on the big guys. It’s going to work, for sure, thanks to all the evidence obtained during the raids in unlocking the secrets involving all the organized-crime shell companies. More important, the comfortable relationship between the Long Island Mafia and the Japanese Yakuza is a thing of the past, at least in the short run, and I hope in the long run as well. Thanks to you, we are going to see a lot less crystal meth around town.”

“Why wasn’t Benjamin Corey bonded?”

“Because of the international warrant for his arrest on the murder charge for the security guard in Kyoto, Japan. He would have been bonded if it had been just the white-collar crime. If anybody is a flight risk, it’s him. Right now his biggest effort is in trying to fight extradition. I tell you, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. Even if he prevails on the extradition issue, he’s still got to face the money-laundering charges. I mean, I just can’t understand it. A guy with that kind of background and education: it was as if he was trying to see just how much he could get away with.”

“I see it more like a Greek tragedy,” Laurie said. “The fatal flaw of greed evidencing itself in an individual who most likely started out with an altruistic desire to help people, just like ninety-nine percent of other medical students.”

“But how could that happen? I don’t understand it.”

“It’s the unfortunate marriage of medicine and business. In the mid-twentieth century you could do well in medicine, but you really couldn’t become truly wealthy. All that changed when medicine in this country did not emerge as a responsibility of government, like education or defense, as it did in most every other industrialized country. Add to that the U.S. government’s inadvertently contributing to medical inflation by passing Medicare without effective cost controls, by generously subsidizing biomedical research without maintaining ownership of the resultant discoveries for the American public, and by its patent office awarding medical process patents, like for human gene sequences, which it’s not supposed to do by law. I tell you, the medical patent situation in this country is a total mess, which is already starting to haunt the biomedical industry, but that’s another issue.

“Unfortunately,” Laurie continued, “today if a doctor wants to become truly wealthy, and a lot of them do, it is reasonably within their grasp by choosing the right specialty, getting involved in the pharmaceutical industry, the health-insurance industry, the specialty-hospital industry, or the biotech industry. All these industries say they exist to help people, which they can, but it is more of a by-product, not the goal. The goal is to make money, and do they ever.”

For a few beats Lou merely stared at Laurie. Then he chuckled in a mocking manner. “Do you expect me to understand what you just said?”

“Not really,” Laurie agreed. “Just take from it that I am not surprised that someone like Ben Corey could be enticed from being an individual with true interests in becoming a caring doctor to an individual whose main goal is to become a billionaire. Most, if not all, medical students are altruistic to begin with, but they are also competitive. They have to be, to get into the best college, to get into medical school, and to do the best to get the most coveted residencies to get into the best medical specialty, meaning, most likely, the one that pays the most so they can pay down their student loans the fastest. What they don’t realize is that the profession in this country has drastically changed over the years, mostly because of economics.”

“What about the new healthcare legislation? Isn’t that going to help?”

“In a generous moment I might say it is a start. At its core, there is the goal of some sense of social equality in regard to medical care as a resource and a responsibility of government. But in this country medical care is a competitive stakeholder industry, and the new legislation doesn’t change that; it just re-sorts the relative power of the stakeholders. I’m afraid the ultimate effect is going to be more pressure for costs to rise, since, like Medicare, there aren’t enough specific cost controls.”

“Jack, do you feel as negative as Laurie does?” Lou asked.

“Absolutely,” Jack said without hesitation. “Don’t get me started!”

“Let’s change the subject,” Laurie suggested. “What about JJ’s kidnapping issue? What have you learned?”

“Well, as I mentioned when I first got here, we now know for certain it was staged specifically to get you, Laurie, off Satoshi Machita’s case. Ransom demands were actually a cover for the plan. I’m also happy to report that we now have in custody the trigger-man who killed Leticia. His name is Brennan Monaghan, but the person really behind the event we’ve now learned is one of the capos of the Vaccarro family named Louie Barbera, with whom I have had run-ins in the past. I’d be ecstatic if this episode was going to put him away, but that’s not going to be the case. Once again, he’s going to walk.”

“How can that be?” Laurie demanded.

“From the police’s perspective, it’s the trouble with using the likes of CRT. As we discussed that fateful night when I introduced you to two of their principals, their primary goal is to resolve the kidnapping to the benefit of the victim and the victim’s family. Their methods don’t take into account that any evidence obtained illegally is unusable in a court of law, as is the situation in JJ’s case. CRT found out where he was being held essentially by kidnapping and drugging a Vaccarro underling, a hardly kosher strategy from a legal perspective. It’s a good thing they have such good defense attorneys; otherwise, they wouldn’t still be in business.”

“I’d rather have JJ back than have adhered to the niceties of the law,” Laurie admitted.

“Of course you would,” Lou agreed. “That’s why I suggested you employ them. That advice was from me as a friend, not as a policeman. As a policeman, I wouldn’t have done it, since their methods often trample constitutional rights, and such behavior is certainly not good for society as a whole over the long haul.”

“What about Vinnie Amendola?” Laurie asked. “Is he still on the lam?”

“He’s been back for over a week,” Jack said. “We’ve been so caught up in the scholarship and nanny business, I forgot to tell you.”

“Thanks a lot,” Laurie said mockingly. “Well, what’s the scoop? Is he in any kind of trouble? Did he write the threatening letter?”

“He did,” Lou explained. “Ultimately, he’d been found by the authories in south Florida and brought back here to New York on a warrant. He was extremely cooperative, and no charges have been filed even though he was an accomplice of sorts. Everyone recognizes he was being extorted and in a difficult situation, fearing for the lives of his daughters and wife. On top of that, he did, after all, warn you with his letter. You’re not interested in filing any charges, are you, Laurie?”

“Heavens, no,” Laurie said, with an expression suggesting it was the last thing in the world she would want to do. “I’m looking forward to thanking him for trying to warn me.”

At that point the waitress came with their Caesar salads. Everyone pitched in to try to make room on the small glass-topped wrought-iron table. When the waitress withdrew, Lou raised his wineglass.

“Let me make a short toast. To forensics and what it can do for law enforcement! It’s the one thing we have that the bad guys don’t have!”

With nods and laughter from the three friends, they all clicked glasses for the second time.