Under the Knife(80)

“Yes.” Excruciating. I’m counting on it. “An autopsy, should it be performed, would later suggest a spontaneously ruptured blood vessel, consistent with a congenital malformation.”

Sebastian nodded. “A natural cause to explain everything. I assume Wu’s device is similarly rigged? If you opted to … activate it?”

“It is.”

“In Wu’s case, it’d also explain the bizarre behavior leading up to her death. Cover our tracks.”

“Yes.”

“And if Wu were to have an MRI in the ER before it went off—”

“—it can be altered.”

“Why a countdown? Why not just detonate it now?”

“I’m not ready to. The countdown is a fail-safe. In case something happens, to either of us, the bomb will still go off early tomorrow morning.”

“But why? Why the bomb?”

Finney said nothing. He watched as Sebastian took two steps back away from the railing, in front of the whale sign, and kicked at the dirt. He turned and stared at a tree, a lone, gnarled Torrey pine, about thirty feet away, and then kicked the spot in the dirt again.

“Okay. Then, why not tell me, boss? Why keep me in the dark?”

Finney had suspected Sebastian was going to be peeved about this. He didn’t understand why, though. Wasn’t Sebastian always talking about careful planning? About not limiting options? About having alternatives? Finney’s plan adhered to those principles. This man—an employee—was questioning his methods.

“I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“Well, that’s where I would disagree with you, boss. That kind of information is helpful to me.”

“Well,” Finney said. “Perhaps we can agree to disagree on that point, then.” Sebastian had bent over and was pushing at the dirt. “What are you doing?”

“Options.” He stood up and, for the first time since Finney had joined him in the park, met his eye. “Look. I didn’t sign up for this, boss. We had an arrangement. All of these months, we’ve been working toward two specific goals: destroy Wu professionally and ensure the success of the auto-surgeon. We’ve accomplished both.” He gazed at the Torrey pine. “The plan I agreed to didn’t involve killing the sister. I did what you asked: implanted the nanoparticles in Wu and her sister and pumped Wu full of extra drugs and booze. Left her naked on the OR table. You’ve achieved your objective: disgraced Wu and boosted the profile of the auto-surgeon. Why kill the sister? The nanoparticles are untraceable, and if Wu ever tries to tell her story, no one will believe her. I mean … damn, boss. She’ll never practice medicine again. She’ll probably be facing criminal charges. Maybe even jail time.”

“Are you losing sight of our purpose, Sebastian?”

“No. Are you?”

Finney sighed. The man was not without his skills, but he could be so damn exasperating sometimes.

I don’t need to explain myself to you, Sebastian an impulsive, undisciplined part of him wanted to say.

Oh, but on the contrary, his rational side replied. He very much did. Sebastian was judging him. Judging his actions. Judging his decisions. Finney couldn’t have that, couldn’t abide it. Sebastian very much needed to know why Finney had pursued this particular course of action.

“Have you heard of the Code of Hammurabi?” Finney asked.

“Sure. King Hammurabi of Babylon. An ancient set of laws, inscribed in a language called cuneiform on a large stone pillar about 2,000 B.C.”

“Yes.” Even after working with the man for almost a year, Sebastian still managed to surprise him, now and again. How could a man in Sebastian’s … well, unsavory line of work demonstrate such familiarity with topics as esoteric as ancient Middle Eastern history and culture?

“Oldest written law on record,” Sebastian said.

“Technically, no—not the oldest.” Finney took some measure of satisfaction in one-upping Sebastian on this point. “There are reports of at least two others, both from ancient Sumer, with a similar content of laws that predate Hammurabi’s by at least two centuries.”

Finney turned to the horizon, on which black clouds were tumbling angrily. “Nevertheless. Remarkable achievement, Hammurabi’s Code. I’ve seen the original surviving record, carved into a diorite stele—or, as you say, stone pillar—on display in the Louvre. I traveled to Paris just to see it.” Right after Jenny’s burial. I had to see it. I had to see the Code with my own eyes. To burn it like a brand into my brain. “Over seven feet tall. Remarkable.”

Sebastian folded his arms and waited.

“Steles with the code were, it’s believed, placed on prominent display in Mesopotamian cities so that their citizens would be familiar with the laws. Laws covering every aspect of human civilization and behavior. Murder. Marriage. Trade. Sex. They’re all there.” He turned away from the horizon and fixed Sebastian with a cold stare. “Including the penalties for breaking them. For meting out punishments for transgressions, Hammurabi’s Code was built on the basic principle of lex talionis. Do you know what that is?”

“Law of retribution. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. That sort of thing.”

Finney’s eyes narrowed. The man could be simply exasperating. “Yes. Rather grim, some of the punishments in Hammurabi’s Code. Looking back, we might even say barbaric. But I would counter that they corresponded to both the nature and the severity of the crime. If a son struck his father, for example, he had his hands cut off.”