Tainted Waters

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

"Is the body ready for transport?"

"Yes, but Mr. Ozz, this is my last one. I'm retiring soon. You'll have to find some other way to do this."

"You listen to me, Doc, this is my business. My rules. Don't tell me what needs to happen. You do as I tell you. And don't you worry about your replacement. I've already found him. You should be meeting him tomorrow. You have several more days on the job, old man. And with those two weeks, you will show him how you get the shipment in, who your contacts are, introduce him to them. I don't want any trouble. Nor any change in what I've built up. Got it?"

Doc stiffened, a sense of dread filling his core. He'd been sure that by quitting his job, which was long overdue, he could put a stop to this business. Put a stop to the terror this man invoked. He'd known it would be a long shot, but he couldn't do it anymore. The guilt was eating him, more than his costly habits which had gotten him into this predicament in the first place.

"Yes. Wh—who is the new man?" It didn't matter that there was supposed to be a process for hiring someone, this man always found a way around the rules.

"Dr. Bob Blatt. Great name, eh?" He chuckled.

Doc knew that it wasn't the guy's real name. He was sure the man was a doctor but probably not one who had a very good reputation, one nobody would know or ever find his real records.

Not my problem.

"Yes. I'll watch for him tomorrow."

"No screw-ups. I know where you live. And where your beautiful, if a bit senile, wife lives."

Doc dropped the receiver back in place and then pressed his hands to his face. The only saving grace he had was that his wife hadn't known what he'd been doing the last ten years. He'd had to put her in a home for people with Alzheimer's. It had broken his heart, she'd been so young, only sixty. And it had just about emptied his bank account. Something all of his decisions seemed to be doing, costing him dearly.

He turned back to the body which he'd finished stitching up a few hours ago. It hadn't been his best work, his hands seemed to shake more than normal, but he knew it wouldn't really matter. The woman was being cremated, once her usefulness had been depleted, of course.

I never should have let him talk me into this.

He ignored the fact that he didn't have any other options, outside of public embarrassment, possibly jail time. And if things didn't go as planned, his own death. He thought he'd just have to fake some paperwork on a few deceased people. When he said he'd take over that part of the job in the hospital—looking after the dead bodies—it had readily been given to him. None of the other doctors or nurses liked the job or wanted it. In a small hospital, it had been easy to step in; everyone took on jobs that weren't in their normal job description. They could do things that maybe bent the rules a bit and might have been noticed in a bigger hospital.

Zipping up the body bag he'd put the lady in, he first did the sign of the cross and said, "Forgive me." Then he placed a small cooler, containing vital organs, in a similar but much smaller body bag. No one ever questioned why, more often than not, there were two bags to be delivered to the funeral home. People just assumed it was the person's effects that were meant to be buried or cremated with them. Doc had given up hope long ago that someone would question him, would discover what was really going on. Sighing heavily, he called the front desk to let them know the body was ready for transport.

Once that was done, he called the destination. "George, hi, it's me. I'm sending over a body and package. Take care of it."

"Okay. Thanks for telling me, Doc. What's up? You sound stressed."

"I hate this. I thought it was harmless when we started but now …"

"I don't like it much either. But we both made that choice."

"You're a pawn like the rest of us but I'm getting out."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I have too. I can't do this anymore. He's already found my replacement."

"That didn't take long."

"No. Take care. Be careful."

"Be careful yourself. I'd hate to see anything happen to you. I wouldn't want to see your package coming through here."

Doc shuddered. "I'd like to say I'm too old, but the body I am sending you is ninety, so age isn't a factor in our business is it? Bye." Choked up because he knew he'd be a parcel one day. If he had learned anything in this business, it would be soon. One day it had seemed harmless and now he had to admit to himself that what he had done was criminal. And very sick.

Was it just age that was getting to him? He'd been doing it for over twenty years, so why now? It was all so tangled. He'd go back and change everything if he could. But that day had come and gone.