CHAPTER 28

“Stryker’s a 3.96 billion dollar a year company,” Captain Ganz said.

Platt listened, though his eyes stayed on the prosthetic leg as he manipulated the joints.

“Most people know the name Stryker from autopsy scenes in crime novels or on CSI. You know, Stryker bone saws? But the company’s been an innovator for years when it comes to medical technology. Most hospital surgical beds are even made by Stryker.”

“What about these?” Platt poked at several screws on a table beside him. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“The technology isn’t all that new. We use a company in Jacksonville called BIOMedics. They’re able to grind the screws from bone—I guess they call it precision tooling. And they don’t just do screws—chips, wedges, dowels, anchors. The human body accepts bone much more readily than plastic. Same theory as heart valves and using animal tissue versus mechanical implants. BIOMedics makes the bone paste we use, too.”

“Paste? You mentioned bone cement earlier.”

“Right. Cement, paste—they’re similar. We use the cement to anchor a prosthetic limb. The paste fills the cracks or perforations that might be in the remaining bone. For instance, gaps left by shrapnel. If you fill the holes, bacterium doesn’t have as many places to infect.”

“Sort of like medical caulk?”

Ganz laughed. “I suppose you could make that comparison.” He sipped his third cup of coffee since the two had taken up residence in his office. “Both the cement and paste have been lifesavers. I told you about it reducing staph infections. We inject antibiotics into the cement and paste. Lets us apply doses directly to the site. Keeps the patients from having to have their bodies blasted with antibiotics, reducing the immune system.”

“What are the chances of it being contaminated?”

“The bone paste?”

“The cement, the paste, the screws. Perhaps the original bone they’re made from?” Platt asked, picking up one of the screws and examining it.

Ganz shook his head. “No, I’d say that’s next to impossible. We use our own.”

“What do you mean, you use your own?”

“We have our own supply of bone and tissue.”

Platt didn’t bother to hide his surprise.

“The navy was the first to use frozen bone transplants,” Ganz explained. “Back in the forties at the Naval Medical Center in Maryland. An orthopedic surgeon by the name of Hyatt started freezing and storing bones that he’d surgically removed during amputation. Instead of discarding the bone he’d freeze it, store it, and use what he could to repair fractures in other patients. Sorry,” Ganz interrupted himself. “Don’t mean to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t mind. Go on.”

“Hyatt was so successful he started one of the first body-donation programs. That’s how the Navy Tissue Bank started. Even back then they were able to remove more than just bone—tissue, veins, skin, corneas—though they weren’t quite sure what to do with most of it. They offered surgeons free use of the bank, only asking that they share their results so Hyatt and his colleagues could maintain their database. It was all pretty much trial and error, but Hyatt figured out a way to disinfect and screen the tissue. Even developed a way to freeze-dry it for shipping. The operation we have today is much more focused and we limit it only to military surgeons.”

“Where does the bone and tissue get processed?”

“In Jacksonville. I recommended Dr. McCleary, the pathologist. He came out of retirement just to run the program. Does an amazing job with the aid of only one diener.”

“So you ship him your … bones? Your excess …?”

Ganz nodded and smiled at Platt’s loss of terminology. “It’s part of the program I started here.”

“Why not do all of it here?”

“Jacksonville had a well-equipped facility already available. Plus it’s practically next door to BIOMedics, the company that does all the precision tooling.”

“Who does the screening and disinfecting?”

“Dr. McCleary does it with the help of BIOMedics. I know what you’re thinking, Ben. I’ve already considered contamination. We’ve checked and double-checked. We’ve never had a problem before.”

“Have you checked any of the precision-tooled stuff from the dead soldiers?”

Ganz’s hesitation gave Platt his answer.

“No,” Ganz finally said. “I don’t believe we removed any of it.”

Platt nodded, still staring at the prosthetic leg he had set aside on the table next to the bone screws. He wrapped his hands around his coffee mug then looked up at Captain Ganz.

“After the autopsy I took a look at a tissue sample from Ronnie Towers.”

“Ronnie Towers?”

“The soldier who just died,” Platt said without criticism. “I checked the bone paste used on the prosthetic, too. There were traces of the bacteria Clostridium sordellii. Are you familiar with it?”

Ganz scratched at his jaw. “Isn’t that usually found in soil?”

Platt nodded. “It can also be found in fecal matter or inside intestines.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your patients’ symptoms are similar to sepsis or severe toxic shock, which can be a result of an infection caused by Clostridium sordellii. The only problem is, I have no idea where the bacteria came from. This is something that’s usually seen in one particular type of patient.”

“And what type is that?”

“Pregnant women.”