Chapter 8 - THE SHADOW IN THE HALLWAY
Four hours into the five-hour surgery, the heavy surgical doors at the far end of the tenth-floor corridor swung open.
I was sitting in the private waiting area, Lily fast asleep on the leather sofa beside me, wrapped in my dark coat. Marco stood near the glass doors overlooking the city street ten floors below.
A nurse in blue scrubs walked out of the surgical suite, carrying a sealed tray of medical instruments.
As she passed our security guards at the check-point, one of my men—a junior operative named Jimmy whom Domenico had recommended to the firm two years ago—stepped slightly to the left, blocking the security camera mounted on the ceiling with his broad shoulder.
My instincts, honed by twenty years of survival in a world of betrayal, sparked instantly.
"Marco," I said low.
Marco’s head snapped toward me. He saw Jimmy’s position instantly.
Before Jimmy could reach into his jacket, I pulled my silenced 9mm handgun from my holster beneath my arm, moving with a terrifying, explosive speed that cut through the quiet room like a lightning bolt.
PFFT!
The suppressed shot echoed like a soft, sharp cough.
The bullet struck Jimmy directly through his right knee. He let out a strangled scream, collapsing onto the tiled floor, his gun skidding across the linoleum toward Marco’s feet.
The second guard on the floor instantly pinned Jimmy to the ground, his weapon pressed hard against the traitor’s temple.
Lily woke up with a start, her grey-green eyes wide with sudden fear.
"Marco, get her into the inner room!" I barked, stepping over the bleeding guard as I kicked his dropped weapon away.
Marco swept Lily up into his arms, rushing her into the secure doctor's lounge behind three-inch reinforced steel doors, locking them from the inside.
I slammed Jimmy’s head back against the cold floor, my boot pressed firmly onto his shattered kneecap, digging in until he shrieked in agony.
"Who sent you, Jimmy?" I demanded, my voice cold as liquid nitrogen. "Talk! Before I dig this heel into your femoral artery!"
"Domenico!" Jimmy wept, blood soaking through his dark trousers onto the clean hospital floor. "Domenico! He... he said you were distracted! He said if the woman died on the table, you'd go crazy and lose the Commission's support! He paid the assistant surgical tech fifty thousand dollars to alter the heparin dosage in the pump!"
My heart stopped beating for a full second.
The heparin dosage.
A sudden overdose or underdose of blood thinners during a bypass procedure would cause massive, catastrophic hemorrhaging or instant fatal clotting on the mechanical valves.
I turned on my heel, sprinting down the hallway toward the surgical suite, slamming my shoulder against the heavy double doors.
"GET THE CHIEF OF SURGERY!" I screamed at the head nurse at the desk. "STOP THE PUMP!"
I kicked open the inner doors of Operating Room 4.
The surgical team froze, their gloved hands raised in mid-air above Elena’s opened chest cavity. The room was sterile, bright, and filled with the mechanical hum of the heart-lung bypass machine.
Dr. Kaplan turned around, his eyes furious behind his surgical mask. "Mr. Moretti! What the hell are you doing?! This is a sterile field!"
"Check the heparin bag!" I roared, pointing my gun directly at the assistant technician standing near the bypass console—a thin, pale man whose face turned instantly white as paper. "CHECK THE HEPARIN NOW!"
Dr. Kaplan snapped his head toward the console. He reached out, snatching the IV bag from the technician’s hands, reading the handwritten lot code stamped on the label.
"Jesus Christ..." Kaplan gasped, his eyes widening in pure horror. "This isn't five thousand units! This is concentrated fifty thousand! It would have dissolved her vascular wall the moment we restarted her heart!"
The assistant technician turned to run toward the rear exit.
Before he could reach the door, I raised my pistol and fired a single shot through his shoulder. The man slammed against the wall, collapsing into a heap of blue paper drapes, screaming in pain.
"Clear this room!" Dr. Kaplan ordered his team, his voice shaking with furious, terrifying adrenaline as he personally seized the bypass controls. "Get a fresh saline flush! Replace the primary lines now! NOW!"
I stood in the center of the surgical room, my gun smoking in my hand, looking at Elena’s quiet, pale face on the operating table.
Her chest was open, her life held together by thin plastic tubes and the skill of a terrified surgeon.
I stepped back out into the hallway, shutting the surgical doors behind me, my breathing coming in heavy, ragged gasps.
I pulled my encrypted phone from my pocket and dialed a single number.
"Marco," I said, my voice dropping into an absolute, terrifying calm.
May you like
"Boss?" Marco’s voice came through the speaker from the secure room down the hall.
"Take six men," I said, looking out the hallway window toward the city skyline. "Find Domenico. Don't bring him to the docks. Don't bring him to the warehouse. Bring him to the estate. I want him waiting in the basement when I get home."
