Chapter 115
DoctorMukherjee emptied Salt’s stomach as if it were a novelty soup bowl. He didn’t check what he was removing – that wasn’t what he was there for – he simply took a spoonful then transferred it to a stainless-steel kidney dish. He never took too much and he didn’t hurry. Poe recognised an exceptional surgeon when he saw one.
‘The pulpy stuff in the stomach is called chyme,’ Doyle said. ‘It’s a mixture of gastric juices and partially digested food.’
‘It looks like curried porridge,’ Poe said.
‘If we’d been able to wait for the chyme to pass through the pyloric sphincter into the small intestine, all that would be left in the stomach would be gastric juices,’ Doyle continued. ‘Recovering the tablet would have been far simpler.’
‘If it’s there at all,’ Flynn said.
‘If it isn’t, we’re condemning him to a lifetime of anaemia, diarrhoea and weak bones for nothing.’
She looked anxious.
‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Estelle,’ Poe said. ‘If it isn’t there, his lifetime won’t be very long. Beck will get to him eventually.’
Mukherjee scooped out something long and stringy. He lifted the spoon to his nose and sniffed it. ‘Has this man been eating goat?’
Poe scowled. ‘How long’s this going to take?’ he asked.
‘The stomach isn’t like the inside of a balloon, Poe,’ Doyle said. ‘It’s a J-shaped organ, and even though Doctor Mukherjee has cut into the widest part, ridged muscles – called rugae – line it. It’s entirely possible the pill has lodged in the mucus that protects thestomach wall. We won’t know for sure until it’s empty and the lining has been washed and checked. This might take a while.’
Which was when Mathers stepped away from Salt’s open stomach, faced one of the cameras and said, ‘Got the bastard.’