"This is all for profit, no doubt," Kim said.
"To be sure," Kathleen said. "The beef industry is a multibillion-dollar business. Profit maximization is its goal not the public health."
"Wait a second," Tracy said. "How can all this be true? In the past, the USDA has uncovered problems and has done something about them. I mean, not that long ago with Hudson Foods…"
"Excuse me," Kathleen interrupted. "The USDA was not responsible for discovering the E. coli contamination involving Hudson Foods. It was an attentive public health official. Normally what happens is the USDA is forced to make a show after an outbreak occurs. Then they make a big deal to the media to give the impression that they are on the job of protecting the public, but unfortunately nothing substantial ever gets done. Ironically enough, the USDA doesn't even have the power to recall meat it finds contaminated. It can only make a recommendation. Nothing it determines is binding."
"You mean like with Hudson Foods?" Tracy asked. "At first they recommended that only twenty-five thousand pounds of meat be recalled."
"Exactly," Kathleen said. "It was consumer groups that forced the USDA to up the recommended recall to over a million pounds. It wasn't the USDA who was the instigator."
"I'd had no idea about any of this," Tracy said. "And I like to think of myself as a reasonably informed person."
"Perhaps the worst part," Kathleen continued, "is that when the USDA talks about contamination with its inspectional services, they're generally talking about gross contamination with visible feces. The industry has fought against any microscopic or bacteriologic inspection for years. Now there is supposed to be some culturing, but it is only a token."
"It's hard to believe," Tracy said. "I guess I've always just assumed that meat was safe."
"It's a sorry situation," Kathleen said. "With tragic consequences.
For a few moments, no one spoke.
"How well we know," Tracy said, as if suddenly realizing this was no idle conversation. Her daughter was no abstraction. A fresh tear streaked down her cheek.
"Well, that settles it," Kim said. He abruptly got to his feet.
"Settles what?" Tracy managed. "Where are you going now?"
"To Bartonville," Kim said. "I'm going to pay a quick visit to Mercer Meats."
"I think you should stay here," Tracy said with exasperation. "You know better than I that Becky's condition is grave. Dr. Stevens and Dr. Morgan have impressed upon me there might be some difficult decisions to be made."
"Of course I know Becky's condition is grave," Kim snapped. "That's why I have so much trouble sitting here doing nothing. It drives me crazy. I have trouble even looking at Becky, knowing there is nothing I can do medically to help. Besides, hearing all this about the beef industry and the USDA makes me furious. I said I was going to find out how she got sick. I'm going to follow this E. coli trail wherever it leads; at least I can do that for Becky."
"What if we need you?" Tracy asked.
"My cellular phone is in my car," Kim said. "You can call me. Anyway, I won't be gone that long."
"Yeah, just like yesterday," Tracy said.
"I've learned my lesson," Kim said. "I'm not going to lose my temper."
Tracy didn't look persuaded. "Go if you have to," she said irritably.
Kim stormed out of the ICU waiting room. Not only was Becky's relentless downward course weighing on him, but so was Tracy 's hostility. Just the day before, she'd professed to understand his frustrations. Now it was as if she'd forgotten she'd ever said anything.
Once on the freeway, Kim used his cellular phone to find Tom. He tried him several places before catching him in his lab at the hospital.
"I have to ask another favor," Kim said.
"How's Becky?" Tom asked.
"To be honest, she's very bad," Kim said. "I've been using a lot of denial about her condition, but I can't do that anymore. It doesn't look good. I had no idea this E. coli was so pathogenic and essentially untreatable once the toxin gets into the system. Anyway, I'm not optimistic." Kim paused, fighting tears.
"I'm so sorry," Tom said. "What a tragedy. What can I do to help?"
"Could you follow my inpatients for a couple of days?" Kim managed. "I'm strung out."
"No problem at all," Tom said graciously. "I'll be doing my own rounds when I finish here in the next few minutes, and I'll just add them on. I'll also tell the nurses so they'll call me if there're any problems."
"Thanks, Tom," Kim said. "I owe you."
"I wish I could do more," Tom said.
"Me too," Kim said.
Bartonville was less than forty minutes out of town. Kim cruised down its main street and then followed the directions he'd gotten from a service station at the freeway exit. He found Mercer Meats without a problem.
It was a far bigger plant than he'd expected. The building was all white and modern-looking but otherwise nondescript. The grounds were immaculately landscaped with granite-lined drives and islands of trees in the parking area. The whole complex projected an aura of high profitability.
Kim parked relatively near the front door in one of a half-dozen "visitor" spaces. He slid out from behind the wheel and started toward the entrance. As he walked, he reminded himself not to lose his temper. After the experience at the Onion Ring, he knew that if he did, it would only work against him.
The reception area looked like it belonged at the entrance to an insurance company rather than a meat-packing concern. Plush wall-to-wall carpeting covered the floor, the furniture was richly upholstered, and there were framed prints on the walls. Only the subject matter of the prints gave a hint of the nature of the business: they were prints of various breeds of cattle.
A matronly woman wearing a cordless headset sat at a circular desk in the center of the room.
"May I help you?" she asked.
"I hope so," Kim said. "What's the name of the president of Mercer Meats?"
"That would be Mr. Everett Sorenson," the woman said.
"Would you call Mr. Sorenson and tell him that Dr. Kim Reggis is here to see him?" Kim said.
"Can I tell Mr. Sorenson what this is about?" the woman asked. She eyed Kim skeptically. His appearance was bordering on that of a homeless person.
"Is it necessary?" Kim asked.
"Mr. Sorenson is a very busy man," the woman said.
"In that case," Kim said, "tell him it's about Mercer Meats selling contaminated hamburger patties to the Onion Ring restaurant chain."
"Excuse me?" the woman said. She'd heard Kim, but couldn't quite believe it.
"Or better yet," Kim said, already beginning to forget his promise to himself about maintaining his composure, "tell him I'd like to discuss the fact that my only daughter is fighting for her life after consuming a Mercer Meats patty."
"Perhaps you'd like to sit down," the receptionist said. She swallowed nervously. Kim was now leaning over her desk, resting on his knuckles. "I'll give the president your message."
"Thank you," Kim said. He gave the woman a forced smile and retreated to one of the couches.
The woman spoke into her headset, while casting nervous glances in Kim's direction. He smiled again. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but from the look on her face, he knew it was about him.
Kim had his legs crossed. He bounced his foot. Five minutes dragged by. The more he waited, the more his anger flooded back. Just when he thought he couldn't sit there any longer, a man appeared with a long white coat not dissimilar to the one Kim was wearing, except it was clean and pressed. On his head was a blue baseball hat with MERCER MEATS emblazoned above the bill. He was carrying a clipboard.