Blood Debt

organ-leggers as there was of Henry Fitzroy winning the Governor General's Award for fiction. "All right. The story's yours." Raising a cautioning hand, he added, "As soon as there is a story."
    She nodded and sat back. "So you want to know why I think that missing kidney is the reason for the young man's murder. Simple, there're a lot of people who need them, giving an organ-legger a large database to chose their buyer from—a database that's fairly easily tracked given that every one of them is on dialysis."
    "Wait a minute." An uplifted hand cut her off. "You said buyers."
    "They're hardly going to give them away, Mr. Celluci. And, considering that it can lead to infections, stroke, heart attacks, and peritonitis, I think I can safely say dialysis sucks. I'm sure they could find people willing to pay big bucks to get off it. What's more, because kidney transplants have a 98% success rate, you can pretty much guarantee your product. Which is why they only took a kidney and not the heart and lungs and corneas and all the other things people so desperately need. The left kidney—the one missing from the body—is the one most often used for transplant purposes. Also, it's one of the easiest transplants to perform, giving you a larger database of doctors to choose from, and the more doctors you have, the better the odds you'll find one who can be corrupted."
    "That's two completely different computer systems to access; it can't be that easy."

    "These are the '90s, Mr. Celluci. Twelve-year-olds are hacking into international defense systems every day."
    Unfortunately, he couldn't argue with that. "The newspaper reported that the surgery to remove the kidney was well on the way to being healed."
    She picked up a pencil and bounced the eraser end against her desk. "Your point?"
    "Why do you think they kept him alive for so long? Why not just take the kidney and let him die?"
    "I expect that they kept him alive long enough to be certain that the buyer's body didn't reject the kidney. If it did, well, with him still around, they'd have a spare and could try again."
    "So why remove the hands?"
    "Fingerprints." Her tone added a silent: Don't play dumb with me.
    "An identity makes it much easier for the police to gather the information that could lead to the person or persons responsible."
    "And what does Mr. Swanson have to do with it?"
    "Swanson was just the mouthpiece of the BC Transplant Society. I was trying to get someone in a perceived position of expertise to admit the possibility."
    Ms. Chou apparently had an answer for everything, but that was by no means a complete answer. She reminded him more of Vicki every second. "And?"
    She leaned a little forward, and her teeth showed between parted lips. "And I've decided I don't like him. When I was researching him for that interview, I discovered that not only is he filthy rich but he has absolutely no bad habits. He works very hard, he gives a lot of money away, and that's it."
    "The rich aren't allowed to be nice, hardworking people?"
    "Not these days. Now, I'm not saying he's a part of this organ-legging thing, but he certainly has, as you people would say, motive and opportunity." She raised one emphatic finger after another. "His wife died of kidney failure waiting for a transplant. He has more money than most governments, and with enough money you have the opportunity to do everything."
    "He also seems to think this organ-legging thing isn't possible. His arguments made a great deal of sense."
    She sat back and waved a dismissive hand. "They would, wouldn't they? Did you know he funded a private clinic where people in the last stages of renal failure can wait for a kidney?"
    Celluci spent a moment hoping she'd never decide she disliked him.
    "No, I didn't. I take it the police found your theories less than helpful?
    "

    Her lips curled into a sneer. "The police as much as accused me of sensationalizing an urban myth for the sake of personal gain."
    How could they possibly have come up with that idea? Celluci asked himself dryly. "You've a lot of conjecture, Ms. Chou, but no facts."
    "And what does your friend have?"
    He half smiled, acknowledging the hit. "More conjecture. But she also says that since we have bugger-all else, we have to start somewhere. Thanks for your time." Holding out his hand, he added,
    "The moment we get a fact, I'll let you know."
    Her hand disappeared in his and yet gave the impression that she was fully in charge of the gesture. Standing,