Death Benefit

64.

EAST TENTH STREET NEW YORK CITY MARCH 26, 2011, 2:13 A.M.

The man was aware of the buzzing of a phone right next to his ear. He went immediately from deep sleep to partial consciousness but it took him a few beats to realize where he was. He picked up the phone, saw his device, didn’t recognize the number but accepted the call just to stop the noise.

“McGovern. This better be good, whoever you are.”

“Is this Chet McGovern?” a female voice said.

“I believe so, ask me tomorrow. What time is it anyway?”

“About two-fifteen, sorry about that.”

“Do I know you?”

“My name is Jemima Meads. I’m calling from the New York Post.”

“The Post?”

The mention of the paper made McGovern sit up. He looked across at the redhead lying fast asleep on the other side of the bed. Her bed, he remembered, somewhere in the Village. What was her name?

“Dr. McGovern, we’re looking at a story that has two researchers at Columbia being killed by the radioactive agent polonium-210, just like the KGB colonel in London. Do you have a comment?”

“It’s two-fifteen in the morning,” McGovern said groggily.

“And I do apologize, but we want to be first and make sure we have the story right.”

“But I thought we weren’t releasing the cause of death,” said McGovern.

“So you can confirm it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It kind of is.”

“Look, speak to my colleague, Jack, he did the autopsies. But I recommend it be tomorrow during normal business hours.”

“Jack Stapleton, the ME?”

“Yes, him.”

“Okay, thanks. And sorry for disturbing you.”

The woman ended the call, and Chet lay back in bed. What was that about?

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