‘That’s why you climb? Because it’s there?’
‘That’s why any serious climber climbs. Climbing is physically demanding. It can be dangerous. It can’t be called fun in any conventional sense of the word. It forces me to push myself further than I ever thought I could. Test myself. Find out how good I am. To me, and others like me, pushing the limits of our skill is what makes life worth living. It’s always exhilarating. Either hanging from a precipice twenty thousand feet up or cutting open a human being and replacing a heart in an operating room. That sense of exhilaration is what led me into transplant surgery.’
The word ‘risk-taker’ popped unbidden into McCabe’s mind, and he wondered again where Spencer was at the critical times. ‘I gather Mallory didn’t make it,’ he said. ‘Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay were the first to climb Everest.’
‘Yes. Thirty years later. In 1953. A New Zealand bee-keeper and a Nepalese Sherpa. Mallory tried and died in the attempt. The equipment available to him in 1924 wasn’t up to the task. Everest is easier today because of modern equipment. Not easy, but easier. I’m curious. Isn’t there anything you do to test your own limits? To see if you can? Because it’s there?’
McCabe shrugged. ‘I chase murderers. Like Everest, they’re there – and catching them can be challenging.’
Spencer smiled. ‘You’re joking, but I’m serious. You know, I’ll be going up to Acadia in a few weeks for a training climb up the Precipice. It’s a fairly easy climb, but it does have a few tricky patches. Short, steep verticals that can be tough for a beginner. Would you like to give it a try?’
McCabe was surprised by the invitation, wondered why it was offered. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not? You look reasonably fit. I know you don’t lack courage. Tom Shockley told me you ran into the Twin Towers and saved someone’s life on September 11.’
‘Tom Shockley’s got a big mouth.’ McCabe wasn’t surprised Spencer knew Shockley. Portland was a small town. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, either, by Shockley’s indiscretion. It was the nature of the beast. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t something I planned. Like an ascent of Everest. Or Denali. I happened to be in a meeting at police headquarters on Center Street that morning. It’s about a five-minute drive from the Towers. When the first plane hit, we all rushed over to see if we could help.’
‘But you ran into the building?’
‘Only because that’s where help was needed. Look, Dr. Spencer, I’m a cop. What I did a lot of other cops did, too. I was just luckier than some. I made it out alive. It wasn’t fun. Or challenging in the way you mean. It’s also personal, and I have to tell you I don’t appreciate Shockley talking about it. To you or anyone else.’
‘How does he know about it?’
‘He didn’t hear it from me.’
‘Interesting.’
‘If you say so. Did Shockley say anything else?’
‘Just that you were a top New York homicide cop who’d gone through a nasty divorce. That you came to Portland because you wanted a safer, more wholesome environment to bring up your daughter.’
Spencer’s beeper went off. He glanced at the screen. ‘Detective, I’m afraid I have to run out on you. They’ve started harvesting my heart.’ As he stood up he added, ‘I’ll be happy to read Dr. Mirabito’s autopsy report and talk to her about whether the wounds on the body were consistent with a harvesting procedure. From your description I suspect they were. As to whether or not a black market in hearts for transplant is even remotely possible, and I don’t think it is, you might want to talk to our transplant co-ordinator here at Cumberland. She can tell you far more about the logistics than I ever could.’
Spencer put his hand on McCabe’s elbow and led him toward the door. They passed the Denali photo. Looking at it close up, McCabe was struck even more than before by something in Spencer’s expression, something in the attitude. He still wasn’t sure what.
‘I’ve enjoyed meeting you, Detective. Good luck in catching whoever it was who cut up that girl. Please let me know if there’s any other way I can help.’
McCabe interrupted Spencer’s dismissal. ‘Just one last question,’ he said.
‘Okay, but make it quick.’ Spencer headed toward the elevator bank.
McCabe followed. ‘You know that Denali picture? Who are the other three guys?’
‘I told you, old friends from medical school. Why do you want to know?’
‘Are they all transplant surgeons?’
‘So that’s it. Listen, I told you this murder was not about heart transplants.’ Spencer pushed the down button harder than he need have.
‘But those men are transplant surgeons, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, two are, not that it’s any of your business.’
‘Not all three?’
‘One’s dead.’