Page 18 of The Secret Dinner

The thirty-thousand-real question: How do you steal a fresh cadaver from a public hospital?

Hugo dressed the dining room table with a moth-eaten tablecloth and spread out sheets of paper, pens, pencils, Post-its, scissors, glue sticks, and rulers. We rarely ever used that heavy, unwieldy table. We preferred to eat on the living room sofa in front of the TV, but after all that arguing, a change of scenery seemed like a good idea.

“We’re going to need to put our heads together if we want to get a body out of there without anybody noticing,” said Hugo.

We were like children playing with our new school supplies as we sat on four of our ten black leather upholstered chairs, looking at each other, focused, silent. Waiting for some brilliant idea to strike. The blueprint for a perfect theft.

Reluctantly, Miguel explained the procedures for collecting a family member’s body from the hospital morgue.

The hospital issues three copies of the death certificate.

The family presents one of the copies at the vital records office, which issues the death certificate and a permit to remove the body.

The family hires a funeral director.

The funeral home presents the permit to remove the body.

A hospital employee signs the entry-exit log.

I jotted down the five steps. My eyes stayed fixed on the tabletop as I read and reread the list, searching for some loophole that could put us in reach of a dead body. Absorbed in thought, I almost jumped out of my chair when the doorbell rang. We weren’t expecting anyone.

“It’s the police!” Miguel shot up from the table. He shook uncontrollably.

Hugo hurried to gather up the materials, as if they were incriminating evidence. Instinctively, I jumped in to help him, not stopping to consider how pathetic it was for two grown men to be desperately shoving a few blunt pairs of scissors, some glue sticks, and scrap paper down their pants.

Piglet shuffled over to the peephole.

“It’s just food. I ordered delivery to help us relax.” He grinned. “All that planning made me hungry!”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Hugo tossed everything he’d stuffed under his shirt back onto the table. Piglet went to get some money.

“Why didn’t you say something, asshole?” I shouted.

The delivery guy rang again. I opened the door and greeted a short, tired-looking man in black overalls, who said he’d tried using the intercom but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. The intercom had been acting up for months.

The delivery guy handed me a bag. Since I had some cash in my pocket, I just paid him and left the food on the table.

“Careful not to mess up the paperwork,” said Hugo, trying to organize things.

Miguel was still staring at the front door like he thought the delivery guy was an undercover cop who’d be back for us any second. Piglet handed me some bills when he came back from his room.

“I ordered the hundred-piece combo. Fifty are mine, you guys split the rest.”

I passed around the chopsticks, soy sauce, wasabi, ginger, and sesame seeds and started opening the sushi containers.

Raw tuna. Raw salmon. Raw shrimp. Raw people.

How to steal a corpse from a public hospital?

I searched my bedroom bookshelf for my copy of Planning Under Pressure, by John Friend and Allen Hickling, an unconventional decision-making method—perfect for this situation. On a sheet of paper, I listed the primary questions we’d need to address to come up with the most effective plan:

What will be the means of transport for the stolen goods (TRANSP)?

What will be the exit-entry port (ENT)?