Page 12 of Acting on Instinct
“Do you know anything about phossy jaw?” Lynx asked.
“Not a lot,” Dawson said. “Like, I can tell you what it is if I see a photo once the disease has progressed to being visible. But by then, it’s pretty distinct. And I know it happened because of exposure to white phosphorus. That’s about it.”
“Dawson, you’ve been a great help.” Lynx stood, offering up a sweet smile. Totally genuine. Completely kind. And obviously, she was one hell of a secret weapon.
This was an insane string of information.
Dawson extended his hand to shake around, looking a bit disappointed not to know the why of his being called in and that he obviously wasn’t in a line of ‘need to know.’ Nomad could imagine the guy would be tumbling this around in his head for a while, deliberating as to why Lynx was interested.
“Good luck to you all,” Dawson raised a hand as a goodbye and strode from the room with a shake of his head.
“The ring was last seen in a salt cave. The salt caves they were searching could well have held munitions. Bat guano acidity plus eighty years released too little gas to kill the team and too much for safety,” White said. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”
“I’d say we have a working theory,” Lynx said. “These are some places I’d check. From the information you sent me, a number of their team was sniped in Germany, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.” White nodded.
“I’d see if I couldn’t get hold of their autopsies and check if there is any mention of bone deterioration or other symptoms of white phosphate toxicity. Next, it seems that modern instances of phossy jaw are almost unheard of. Shattering someone’s jaw with a human blow is very odd. Then, the intense scent of garlic; any doctor who came into contact with that wouldn’t know how to go about their reparations. And I’d imagine if a doctor came across such a case, they’d be on the Internet looking for answers and help from the medical community, who might know about what they were seeing.”
“Agreed,” White pulled her phone out and typed into her notes app. “They’d be on forums. I can put that through a search.”
“If Deep were here,” Lynx spun to look at the computer desk, then turned back, “he’d be able to pull that for you. He’s taken a personal day.”
“I’ve got it,” White said.
“Since we’re throwing theories around,” Lynx scooted to the edge of the chair, leaning toward White, “these men seem European to me—their clothes, their haircuts, their body movements. If I were in a foreign land and my jaw was smashed, and I wasn’t in immediate danger of dying, I wouldn’t go to a Moroccan hospital. In particular, I’d avoid it lest the police be looking for people captured on tourist videos after the market murders took place.”
“I’d head north and take the ferry across to Gibraltar, then into Spain,” Nomad said.
Lynx turned toward him. “That’s what I’d do. But when I got there, with glow-in-the-dark garlic breath and neon orange hair along with that shattered jaw, I’d think they’d quarantine the guy.”
Nomad leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs, and said, “Do some peer consultations, get the phossy jaw case out the door as fast as I could before he contaminated their hospital.”
“Figure out his deal,” Lynx continued, “then send him to the European hospital that could best deal with his situation. So those would be two additional places to look for a name. If you know his name or can get any personal information from him—because someone has to pay those bills—it could lead you to the other three. Perhaps they flew together? Stayed in the same hotel?”
“Would they even know what it is? The phossy jaw, I mean,” White asked. “Supposing this were all true.” She turned from Nomad to Lynx.
“I wouldn’t think so. Not off the top of their heads. Garlic doesn’t mean phossy jaw, necessarily.” She moved to the computer desk and tapped into the search engine. “Certain medicines, metabolic disorder, liver disease, periodontaldisease,” Lynx read out. “My guess would be that they’d lean into periodontal disease because the other issues wouldn’t cause his jaw to shatter.” She lifted her focus from the screen. “I have no idea, really. But honestly, the images from the photos and videos that you gave me—”
“I know, I know.” White held up a hand. “It was ridiculous to do that to you. A Hail Mary. I feel like I should apologize. And yet,” she shrugged.
“Yeah, I get it. You have to pull at every thread. Given that the CIA couldn’t identify these men from their images, it told me they weren’t men who moved through the usual societal channels. Honestly, they could be anyone. And I could have handed you nothing except for a possible bread crumb trail. I’d start by looking for doctor forums where they post unusual cases, either to brag about what they found or to ask what the heck they’re looking at. Next, I’d take a look at which European hospitals specialize in toxicity. Perhaps medical transport services that move people across country lines and can transport toxic people.”
“Would they allow that, a toxic person to cross their border?”
“That, I don’t know. There might be specific protocols for getting them to institutions that can handle that kind of issue. Also, there’s a very real chance that he never showed up in a hospital.”
“He certainly couldn’t cope with a pulverized jaw,” Nomad said.
“We don’t know what relationship he had with the other three men,” Lynx said with a downward pull of her lips. “He might have turned into a liability. They might have dumped his body somewhere.”
White’s voice sounded flat as she said, “Then they’d be gone for good.”
Lynx pulled her lips into a thin line, an affirmation that she thought that was true.
As Lynx walked around the computer table and toward the door, Nomad pulled his patch from his pocket, slid it into place, then extended his hand with a thank you.
Out in the hall, their escort was waiting to take them back down to the parking lot, so he didn’t get a chance to say anything to White about the experience.
