Implant (DI Gardener 3)

“Alex Wilson.”

“Was he a diabetic?”

“No.”

“Then what?” Gardener asked.

“When I opened him up this morning, I paid particular attention to the abdominal area. The surgical stitching was very recent, fresh, clean, and could only have been performed by a professional. But there was nothing missing. This device,” Fitz held up the pump, “or should I say, modified device, had been placed inside his body. The long thin tube had been inserted directly into the largest vein available.”

Gardener leaned forward and studied the pump.

“Was it full of insulin?”

“Not at all,” replied Fitz. “We’re going to have to wait for the toxicology report to be absolutely certain, but there are a number of things I can tell you to be going on with.

“Firstly, it’s difficult to say with any certainty what killed Alex Wilson, because he was a known drug user and some of the damage to the major organs will most likely be the effect of whatever he was taking. However, I have found traces of sodium hydroxide in this pump.”

“Which is what?” asked Gardener.

“You and I would know it as caustic soda, a household chemical used for unblocking drains. It’s a very strong alkali. It attacks metals. Turns fat into soap, which is how it unblocks sinks. It burns skin and damages eyes.

“In this case, the caustic soda was released by the insulin pump. The pain would have been horrific. It damaged the blood vessels, the blood, and then went on to attack the organs that receive the most blood: the liver, stomach, brain, heart, and kidneys. This pump is almost certainly what caused Alex Wilson’s demise.”

Gardener sat back and sighed heavily, trying to work out how and when that had taken place. “Alex Wilson went missing on Thursday night. I think it’s safe to assume that he was back in the cellar on Sunday at some point, or the very early hours of Monday morning. Would that be enough time to do what was done?”

“Certainly, if you knew what you were doing,” said Fitz. “And I think there’s enough evidence to support the fact that whoever did this was very good at his job.”

“So, it had to be someone with medical knowledge,” said Gardener.

“Looks that way,” said Fitz, rising and pouring another coffee. He offered a refill for the two officers, but both declined.

“Where can you get these things? Is the name of the manufacturer on it, or a model number?”

“Under normal circumstances, yes, we should be able to see that kind of information. They always have a serial number. But, as I said, this one has been modified, and the serial number has been erased.”

“And there’s no manufacturer’s name on it?” Gardener asked.

“No,” replied Fitz. “It was probably with the serial number.”

“Sounds like our man knows what he was doing. More evidence to suggest a medical specialist,” said Reilly. “Any idea who makes them?”

“I’m sorry,” replied Fitz. “I deal with dead people, and they have no use for them. It’s pretty specialized, but I’m sure some of the doctors at St. James’s Hospital would be able to enlighten you.”

“There’s more to this story, isn’t there?” Gardener asked. “You mentioned a modification?”

“Yes. I understand that these pumps are exter

nally programmable. This one has been changed in such a way that it will deliver the substance when it’s told to.”

“Told to?” repeated Gardener. “How?”

Fitz rifled through a folder on his desk.

“It has a SIM card in it. This thing is working through Bluetooth. It’s a technology that allows your computer, monitor, mouse, keyboard, PDA, or anything else with a Bluetooth chip to communicate by radio instead of cables.

“In order to get rid of the cables, companies developed infrared.

“But then things went a step further, and they developed Bluetooth. The devices simply need to be within ten metres of each other. They work by using radio chips. When a Bluetooth device detects another one nearby, it automatically links to it.”