In the adjoining auxiliary room, Dr. Foley directed his attention to the stainless-steel pan neatly covered by a white towel. To be certain that the specimen was unharmed, he lifted a corner of the towel. Satisfied, he picked up the pan, walked down the corridor, and descended the stairs to the pathology department.

Ignoring the residents and technicians, though several of them spoke to him by name, he walked through the main surgical area and entered a long corridor. At the end he stopped in front of an unmarked door. Balancing the specimen pan in one hand, he got out his keys and opened the door. The room beyond was a small and windowless laboratory. Dr. Foley moved slowly but deliberately as he stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and put down the pan.

For a few moments he stood paralyzed until a sharp pain in his temples made him stagger backward. He bumped the countertop and steadied himself. Glancing at the large institutional clock on the wall, he was surprised to notice that the minute hand seemed to have jumped five minutes.

Swiftly and silently Dr. Foley performed several tasks. Then he stepped over to a large wooden crate in the center of the room and opened it. Within was a second, insulated container. Releasing the latch, Dr. Foley raised its lid and looked in. Resting on a bed of dry ice were a number of other specimens. Dr. Foley carefully placed the newest addition on the ice and closed the lid.

Twenty minutes later, an orderly dressed in a white shirt and blue pants pushed a dolly into the small unmarked laboratory and picked up the ice chest and packed it in a wooden crate. Using the freight elevator, he took it down to the loading dock and put it into a van.

Forty minutes after that, the wooden crate was taken off the van and placed in the luggage section of a Gulf Stream jet at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey.