The Dismantling Read Online Free PDF Page A

could trick the hospital’s instruments into believing his body to be clean and blameless.
Well, good
, Simon thought.
Better to start late than never
. At least he’d have a week of practice at being sober before the screening interview.
    They left Crewes’s Lexus parked on the street and rode the tram across the river. The tram car lifted out of the station and swung above the traffic on First Avenue, climbing alongside the bridge’s vaulted underbelly. As they rose above York, they drew even with the higher floors of an apartment building; Simon caught a glimpse of a cat sunning itself in a window, a curtain tangled in the needles of a cactus. They crested the midsection of the bridge, and he pointed out the curve of the United Nations Headquarters a dozen blocks downtown, the ruined smallpox hospital at the southern tip of the island. Back on the ground, he led them toward Cabrera, stopping a few hundred feet from the entrance. Clusters of nurses and staff sat on the grass outside the hospital, eating their lunches in the sun, smoking, laughing, their scrubs pink, baby blue, lime green—pieces of candy scattered across the lawn. Simon shook Lenny’s damp hand, told him he’d be fine. Lenny nodded, saying nothing; then he walked away, stolid and deliberate.
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    N OW Simon turned the monitor back around to face him, the last of DaSilva’s cigarette smoke drifting across the office. He stared at Maria Campos’s fake smile and wondered what particular variety of financial misfortune could have pushed her to this decision. She was so young; usually it was the middle aged, the overextended and overleveraged, whose cagey, probing e-mails piled up in his inbox. He’d have to be careful not to reveal his curiosity. He didn’t want to risk scaring her off, and, besides, DaSilva paid him not to pursue these things, to leave the inessential questions about his clients’ lives unasked.
    He dialed her number. Just as he was sure it was about to go to voice mail, she picked up: “Yeah?”
    â€œMs. Campos?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s Simon Worth, an associate at Health Solutions.” For a few long seconds, he listened to her breathing, the faint murmur of a television in the background. “We’ve been e-mailing.”
    â€œSimon,” she said. “Right.” Her voice was raspy, as though she’d just woken up.
    â€œI’m calling to tell you that our initial evaluation of your candidacy is positive.”
    â€œThat sounds like a good thing.”
    â€œIt is. We’d like to do some testing to assess your compatibility with our client. I have the number of a lab you can visit for some additional blood work and liver imaging. Is that something you want to do?”
    â€œLivers are worth more,” she said, “aren’t they?”
    â€œI’m sorry?”
    â€œI looked it up.” Her voice straightened, sloughing off its sleepiness. “Liver transplants, they cost more than kidneys. So a piece of liver—a piece of
my
liver—it’s gonna be worth more than a kidney, right?”
    â€œIn theory, yes.”
    â€œIn theory? Either it is or it isn’t.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I just need to know if this is worth it to me before we go any further.”
    â€œIf you qualify—and I can’t make any promises yet—but if you qualify, we can offer you $150,000.” Silence. “Plus we’ll pay for your travel, which includes two weeks in a Manhattan hotel.”
    â€œOne fifty.” Her voice was neutral, but Simon thought he heard a tremor of the effort required to keep it that way.
    â€œYes. You would receive $5,000 in good faith when you arrive in New York. The rest follows the operation.”
    â€œI’m not trying to be rude, but how can I be sure this isn’t a scam?”
    â€œYou can’t. But what would we get out of