House Call (XO, HMD, TEEN) [COMPLETE]
Posted: Sun Mar 29, 2009 2:32 am
Winner Round 13
Title: House Call
Author: Taffycat
Category: Roswell/House
Pairing: Conventional Couples, Max/Liz.
Rating: Teen or above, mainly because any younger will probably be bored.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, only borrowing them, and will return them only slightly used.
Summary: I picture this (literally in my mind) as a free standing episode of House. It’s more House than Roswell. And for this House episode, Foreman, Cameron, and Chase are still House’s team.
And to further disclaim, I’m making this up. I am NOT a doctor nor in the medical field in any way, but House is a medical show so just got with it.
Timeline is approx. 3 months after The White Room. The rescue attempt failed. Sheriff Valenti knows, as do Philip and Diane.
This is more of a Liz centric piece, so if you don’t like Liz, this isn’t for you.
Edited to add: it just dawned on me that House and Roswell do not coincide timewise. Roswell predates House by a few years.This will be even further evident later on in the story and you'll just have to accept it.
Dr. House is bored and looking for something, or more precisely someone, that he would find interesting.
~
Part 1
Dr. House was strolling through the ER looking at various patients’ charts. Nothing… he pulled out another chart… nothing... and another… boring… another… ho-hum… and another…wait… that can’t be right. He scowled as he flipped the page. How was that possible? He looked again. The tests were run three times with the same results. Leaning on his crutch he walked over to the drawn curtain and yanked it aside. The patient was young, a teenager. And he looked like hell. As Dr. House hobbled to the elevator and office, his smile reflected his enthusiasm at finding a new patient, and a new mystery to solve. It would be one that he would never forget.
~
House’s Conference Room
House casually tossed the chart on the conference table and announced, “New patient, in the ER,” to his team.
Chase grabbed the folder and flipped it open. His scowl was similar to what House’s had been as he read. “Tests are wrong.”
“They ran them three times,” House answered as he erased his trusty whiteboard and then began to list the symptoms:
High levels of Crizene
Unconscious
Unresponsive
Low grade fever
Looks like hell
He paused, and here was the good part, and added:
Unidentifiable blood type and antibodies
Still facing his board he asked the team behind him, “okay, go.”
He heard nothing in reply, so he was forced to turn and tried not to show his glee as he gave his best effort of exasperation. “Come on guys. What’s next? Come on. Come on.”
Cameron shook her head. “Tests are wrong. Sample must have been tainted. Machine malfunction. Something.”
House frowned as Foreman gave an ever so slight concurring nod. He capped his marker pen and informed his staff, “Fine. Run them again.” He had to get the mundane out of the way anyhow. He looked at the board and recalled the physical appearance of the patient. “And I want every mark on him detailed, every single one.” He added, “Someone find out more on Crizene.”
“Whatever the hell that is,” he mumbled under his breath as he took a seat at his computer and began his own research. He loved a good mystery.
Patient’s Room
Chase was grim as he turned the patient over and began detailed note taking on the various marks on his back. He shook his head, “what the hell happened to him? He looks like he was tortured.”
Foreman looked closer. “No, look at these marks, right over his kidneys and like the others, very precision cuts made with a surgical instrument. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They hit all the major organs. And we still don’t know what that scar on his head is from. No. It’s more like he was experimented on, which is worse.”
Chase looked up at Foreman, “why worse?”
“It was a doctor that did this,” Foreman informed him. As they finished their detailed report, he adjusted the patient’s IV and increased the morphine drip. He figured the kid needed as much pain relief as possible after what he’d obviously been through. And he had a suspicion that what they were seeing on the surface was only the start.
Chase noted the order for a head MRI as soon as possible on his chart so they could check out the scar. He looked over and made a notation of the morphine increase while he was at it.
Lab
Cameron took her glasses off and grabbed another sample. This just couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. She checked the machine again. It seemed to be running correctly. She made the new smear and again looked in the microscope, very carefully making the minutest adjustments. “Damn it!” she breathed, shook her head and looked again.
After over an hour she admitted defeat and wrote the same results as what the ER had originally, though with much more details, including the levels of Crizene, a substance she’d had to look up. She was very grim as she finished up her report.
MRI Room
Foreman strained as he looked at the monitor. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Yeah,” Chase replied with equal disbelief.
“Even hyped up on morphine and unconscious, this kid’s brain is on over drive.” Foreman somehow managed to lean even closer to the monitor as he raised a finger pointing at the area where the scar was, “what’s…”
“….That?” Chase finished the question. “What the hell is going on with this kid?”
Shaking his head, “I don’t know but House is going to love it.” Foreman answered. “Better get the OR booked.”
“Yeah,” Chase concurred as he began shutting down the image. “House is going to want to see that implant up close and personal.”
House Office – 3hrs later
Cuddy’s arms were crossed as she watched House toss a rubber ball against the wall. “So you just decided to cruise the ER for a patient and picked a drug addict that had gotten beaten up. Why?”
Boing. Boing.
“See for yourself,” he suggested as he tossed her the patient’s recent test results in between the bouncing ball.
Boing.
Cuddy sat down as she read. “The results are wrong.”
Boing.
It was all he could do not to grin too smugly, “Nope. They aren’t. Already ran them again.”
Boing.
“You’re performing brain surgery? Why?” Cuddy asked incredulously.
“Need to see that implant.” He calmly answered.
Boing.
“No, you don’t. It’s not medically necessary,” she countered and reached for the phone to call the OR.
The ball dropped as he reached for the phone first. He looked her in the eye, “read the rest of the report and note the location of the implant.”
She looked down at the report and read. What had started as a frown grew deeper as she read in detail the atrocities that had been done to the boy. She had not actually seen him yet but she could all too clearly picture each and every mark on him. She felt ill. Then she looked at the MRI report and then glanced at the MRI image. Her heart sank as she finally got it, “pain.”
House nodded. “Yep, pain. If I was callous bastard that wanted to cause someone as much pain as possible, whenever I wanted to, I would implant a receiver right there, to cause the most pain.”
“But why,” she implored.
“Control, through pain comes control,” was his obvious answer.
“I don’t get it. Who would do this? And why would they want to control a kid that badly?”
House paused as he thought about it for a moment longer. He had a vague idea, but it was so farfetched that he needed to think about it some more. However that didn’t mean he didn’t have some more immediate ideas that were already pretty solid. “You mean if I were a callous bastard?”
Cuddy sat back and looked at him, “even you aren’t that callous.”
House almost smiled, “but still a bastard.”
She inclined her head ever so slightly.
House looked at the report. It was like a jigsaw puzzle without a picture to guide on how to put it together. But some pieces did fit. “Fear, whoever did this was afraid of him.”
Cuddy threw her hands up at the absurdity of all of this, “Okay, say I believe you. So we’ve got the why, now how about the ‘who’?”
House picked up his ball again.
Boing.
“I won’t know that until I can see the implant.” He explained.
Boing.
Cuddy paused she got up to leave. She shot House a significant look. “There aren’t many that would have that kind of technology, let alone the ability to use it.”
House tilted his head as he replied, “I can think of one.”
She shook her head in confusion, “Who? I mean other than maybe the government.” She gave House a hard look. “Surely you don’t think?”
House remained silent.
She started to push the door open. “I’ll check with admitting to see how he was brought in and if there were any attempt to contact the authorities, I’ll… I’ll see if those can be delayed.” And the door swung closed behind her.
House’s Conference Room-2hrs later
House was staring through a magnifying mirror at the tiniest of tiny receivers. “Amazing.”
Chase crossed his arms. “I don’t think the kid would think so. That thing was embedded pretty deep. We’ll have to do some testing when he wakes up to make sure there was no damage.” He looked at the chart, “he should start waking soon. Then maybe we can find out what’s going on.”
“No, we can’t. We can’t wake him,” Cameron interjected.
“Why?” Foreman asked.
“Crizene.”
“What exactly is Crizene? I’ve never heard of it,” Foreman asked.
“That’s because it’s not exactly readily available. If we hadn’t been using new testing techniques we wouldn’t have been able to detect it at all. It’s a powerful psychotic. It leaves the mind very vulnerable to suggestions. And it’s highly addictive. The detox…” Cameron took a deep breath, “it’ll kill him.”
House put the tiny receiver down on the table. The puzzle was starting to come together. He had the puzzle border to it almost done. “The perfect truth serum. Make him talk. Keep giving it to him until he has nothing left and very addicted, which by that time there’s not much left to him anyhow. Then dump him in an alley and he dies as he starts to detox.” He paused as he nodded to the receiver, “and throw in this little beauty for add incentive to talk, and to keep from running, even if he could. And you have built the perfect mousetrap. If anyone other than us found him, it would appear as if another kid got lost in life and died a street junkie.”
“But who and why,” Cameron asked for all of them.
House almost grinned. He knew how this was going to sound but it was the only way he could see the puzzle looking. “Let’s start with the ‘who’. As my astute colleague, or rather boss, pointed out, not many have this type of technology, only one that we can think of, and only one that could procure enough Crizene to do it. Good old Uncle Sam.” He inwardly smiled at their stunned expressions. The ‘why’ was going to be even better, “As to the ‘why’, his blood is unknown. The DNA tests keep coming up with errors, and someone was precise in taking organ and tissue samples.”
“Wait,” Chase sat straight up in his chair, “you aren’t seriously saying that…that he’s not human?” He was stunned as House gave the slightest of smiles. “That he’s an alien?”
House actually grinned at their astonishment. “If you have a better solution, go find it.” He watched with amusement as his team rose as one, gave him looks as if they were trying to determine his sanity. “And for God’s sake, don’t forget to put him into a chemical induced coma so he doesn’t die on us as he detox’s,” he reminded them as they filed out.
It all fit he told himself, all of it, except for one little piece. If he was truly an alien, an autopsy would be the next logical step. So why dump the kid in an alley to be found and possibly rescued? Why give up the chance to dissect him and find out everything?
He wondered how long it would be before Wilson stopped by to gauge his sanity for him.
He got his answer less than an hour later.
~
Sterling, VA Facility-next day
She backed up in terror. “No. No. Please!” she begged. She glanced at her former coworker who lay crumpled on the floor. The lab looked like a cyclone had blown through it. “Please, I…I saved him. Please! I saved him.”
“Where is he?” Neasedo growled.
“J-Jersey. I took him to Jersey,” she whimpered.
“Why?” he snarled.
“It…it was his only chance,” she pleaded. “He…he n-needed help.”
Neasedo backed off just a bit. He needed more information. “What kind of help? And why in Jersey?”
“D-Dr. House. P-Princeton Plainsboro Teaching H-Hospital,” she replied and closed her eyes, hoping she could control her bladder.
Neasado’s eyes narrowed and bore into her as if they were lasers. “Why would he need a hospital? And why this Dr. House? What have you done to him?”
“The…the drug Crizene. He was too weak to detox.” Tears streamed as she lost the battle with her bladder. “H-House is the best diagnostician in the country. He is the only one that would be able to figure it out in time.”
Neasado was torn. His instinct was to kill her and be done with it, but his head told him that she was the only link to him…at the moment. “Where’s Pierce?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He…he heard about the attack on the other facility and…and ordered…”
“Go on,” Neasado threatened.
“Pierce ordered that…that the Crizene be withheld. Th-that if he gave us any trouble to j-just use the pain-chip to control him instead.” She gulped.
“Pain-chip?” his eyes flashed dangerously. “And did you?”
“N-no. No. Not then. Please, we-we didn’t have to,” she cried.
“And why is that?” he ask in almost too calm of voice, making it all the more dangerous.
“B-b-because he was already too far gone to do anything,” she sobbed. “Please. Pierce was going to let him die a horrible, horrible, painful death and then the autopsy. Please, I saved him. I-I gave him the only chance he had.”
“How exactly did you get him to the hospital?” he asked.
“I-I made sure he was close to the hospital and called an ambulance. I watched as it took him there,” she answered through the tears.
He had to think. Max at a hospital. A good one it seemed. It had to be in order to attract and retain the, what was it she called him, the best diagnostician in the country. So Max was being helped by the best. But the best can be very inquisitive, too inquisitive. But he was probably safe at the moment, at least safer than he had been in the past three months. And if he wasn’t, then it was already too late.
“Where are his records? All of them?” he demanded.
She pointed towards the desk area. “There’s a safe in the floor. It’s…it’s protected by a heavy metal casing.” She trembled as Neasedo marched her over to it. She took the key from around her neck. She was shaking so bad that she had to use both hands to insert the key, heard the click and opened the safe door. She tried to pick up the hidden gun with the bullets that were also made from heavy metal.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Neasedo advised as he grabbed the gun. “The files now and let’s not have any stupid ideas.”
The gun had been her last hope. She knew that once he saw the files, saw her name all over the files as the doctor who’d actually performed most of the procedures that her life was over. “Please. Don’t. I…I saved his life. I saved him. Please, that must count for something.” She slumped to the floor and drew her hands to her knees, hung her head, and sobbed in earnest.
Neasado glanced through the report. His fury barely contained. It was as he’d feared. He glanced at the doctors name tag and picture and then at the report. Saw the name over and over again. Looked back at her and answered her pleas, “It does.” His hand glowed brightly and burned as it hit her flesh. “A quick death.”
Neasado broke several speed laws as he headed to New Jersey.
Title: House Call
Author: Taffycat
Category: Roswell/House
Pairing: Conventional Couples, Max/Liz.
Rating: Teen or above, mainly because any younger will probably be bored.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, only borrowing them, and will return them only slightly used.
Summary: I picture this (literally in my mind) as a free standing episode of House. It’s more House than Roswell. And for this House episode, Foreman, Cameron, and Chase are still House’s team.
And to further disclaim, I’m making this up. I am NOT a doctor nor in the medical field in any way, but House is a medical show so just got with it.
Timeline is approx. 3 months after The White Room. The rescue attempt failed. Sheriff Valenti knows, as do Philip and Diane.
This is more of a Liz centric piece, so if you don’t like Liz, this isn’t for you.
Edited to add: it just dawned on me that House and Roswell do not coincide timewise. Roswell predates House by a few years.This will be even further evident later on in the story and you'll just have to accept it.
Dr. House is bored and looking for something, or more precisely someone, that he would find interesting.
~
Part 1
Dr. House was strolling through the ER looking at various patients’ charts. Nothing… he pulled out another chart… nothing... and another… boring… another… ho-hum… and another…wait… that can’t be right. He scowled as he flipped the page. How was that possible? He looked again. The tests were run three times with the same results. Leaning on his crutch he walked over to the drawn curtain and yanked it aside. The patient was young, a teenager. And he looked like hell. As Dr. House hobbled to the elevator and office, his smile reflected his enthusiasm at finding a new patient, and a new mystery to solve. It would be one that he would never forget.
~
House’s Conference Room
House casually tossed the chart on the conference table and announced, “New patient, in the ER,” to his team.
Chase grabbed the folder and flipped it open. His scowl was similar to what House’s had been as he read. “Tests are wrong.”
“They ran them three times,” House answered as he erased his trusty whiteboard and then began to list the symptoms:
High levels of Crizene
Unconscious
Unresponsive
Low grade fever
Looks like hell
He paused, and here was the good part, and added:
Unidentifiable blood type and antibodies
Still facing his board he asked the team behind him, “okay, go.”
He heard nothing in reply, so he was forced to turn and tried not to show his glee as he gave his best effort of exasperation. “Come on guys. What’s next? Come on. Come on.”
Cameron shook her head. “Tests are wrong. Sample must have been tainted. Machine malfunction. Something.”
House frowned as Foreman gave an ever so slight concurring nod. He capped his marker pen and informed his staff, “Fine. Run them again.” He had to get the mundane out of the way anyhow. He looked at the board and recalled the physical appearance of the patient. “And I want every mark on him detailed, every single one.” He added, “Someone find out more on Crizene.”
“Whatever the hell that is,” he mumbled under his breath as he took a seat at his computer and began his own research. He loved a good mystery.
Patient’s Room
Chase was grim as he turned the patient over and began detailed note taking on the various marks on his back. He shook his head, “what the hell happened to him? He looks like he was tortured.”
Foreman looked closer. “No, look at these marks, right over his kidneys and like the others, very precision cuts made with a surgical instrument. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They hit all the major organs. And we still don’t know what that scar on his head is from. No. It’s more like he was experimented on, which is worse.”
Chase looked up at Foreman, “why worse?”
“It was a doctor that did this,” Foreman informed him. As they finished their detailed report, he adjusted the patient’s IV and increased the morphine drip. He figured the kid needed as much pain relief as possible after what he’d obviously been through. And he had a suspicion that what they were seeing on the surface was only the start.
Chase noted the order for a head MRI as soon as possible on his chart so they could check out the scar. He looked over and made a notation of the morphine increase while he was at it.
Lab
Cameron took her glasses off and grabbed another sample. This just couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. She checked the machine again. It seemed to be running correctly. She made the new smear and again looked in the microscope, very carefully making the minutest adjustments. “Damn it!” she breathed, shook her head and looked again.
After over an hour she admitted defeat and wrote the same results as what the ER had originally, though with much more details, including the levels of Crizene, a substance she’d had to look up. She was very grim as she finished up her report.
MRI Room
Foreman strained as he looked at the monitor. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Yeah,” Chase replied with equal disbelief.
“Even hyped up on morphine and unconscious, this kid’s brain is on over drive.” Foreman somehow managed to lean even closer to the monitor as he raised a finger pointing at the area where the scar was, “what’s…”
“….That?” Chase finished the question. “What the hell is going on with this kid?”
Shaking his head, “I don’t know but House is going to love it.” Foreman answered. “Better get the OR booked.”
“Yeah,” Chase concurred as he began shutting down the image. “House is going to want to see that implant up close and personal.”
House Office – 3hrs later
Cuddy’s arms were crossed as she watched House toss a rubber ball against the wall. “So you just decided to cruise the ER for a patient and picked a drug addict that had gotten beaten up. Why?”
Boing. Boing.
“See for yourself,” he suggested as he tossed her the patient’s recent test results in between the bouncing ball.
Boing.
Cuddy sat down as she read. “The results are wrong.”
Boing.
It was all he could do not to grin too smugly, “Nope. They aren’t. Already ran them again.”
Boing.
“You’re performing brain surgery? Why?” Cuddy asked incredulously.
“Need to see that implant.” He calmly answered.
Boing.
“No, you don’t. It’s not medically necessary,” she countered and reached for the phone to call the OR.
The ball dropped as he reached for the phone first. He looked her in the eye, “read the rest of the report and note the location of the implant.”
She looked down at the report and read. What had started as a frown grew deeper as she read in detail the atrocities that had been done to the boy. She had not actually seen him yet but she could all too clearly picture each and every mark on him. She felt ill. Then she looked at the MRI report and then glanced at the MRI image. Her heart sank as she finally got it, “pain.”
House nodded. “Yep, pain. If I was callous bastard that wanted to cause someone as much pain as possible, whenever I wanted to, I would implant a receiver right there, to cause the most pain.”
“But why,” she implored.
“Control, through pain comes control,” was his obvious answer.
“I don’t get it. Who would do this? And why would they want to control a kid that badly?”
House paused as he thought about it for a moment longer. He had a vague idea, but it was so farfetched that he needed to think about it some more. However that didn’t mean he didn’t have some more immediate ideas that were already pretty solid. “You mean if I were a callous bastard?”
Cuddy sat back and looked at him, “even you aren’t that callous.”
House almost smiled, “but still a bastard.”
She inclined her head ever so slightly.
House looked at the report. It was like a jigsaw puzzle without a picture to guide on how to put it together. But some pieces did fit. “Fear, whoever did this was afraid of him.”
Cuddy threw her hands up at the absurdity of all of this, “Okay, say I believe you. So we’ve got the why, now how about the ‘who’?”
House picked up his ball again.
Boing.
“I won’t know that until I can see the implant.” He explained.
Boing.
Cuddy paused she got up to leave. She shot House a significant look. “There aren’t many that would have that kind of technology, let alone the ability to use it.”
House tilted his head as he replied, “I can think of one.”
She shook her head in confusion, “Who? I mean other than maybe the government.” She gave House a hard look. “Surely you don’t think?”
House remained silent.
She started to push the door open. “I’ll check with admitting to see how he was brought in and if there were any attempt to contact the authorities, I’ll… I’ll see if those can be delayed.” And the door swung closed behind her.
House’s Conference Room-2hrs later
House was staring through a magnifying mirror at the tiniest of tiny receivers. “Amazing.”
Chase crossed his arms. “I don’t think the kid would think so. That thing was embedded pretty deep. We’ll have to do some testing when he wakes up to make sure there was no damage.” He looked at the chart, “he should start waking soon. Then maybe we can find out what’s going on.”
“No, we can’t. We can’t wake him,” Cameron interjected.
“Why?” Foreman asked.
“Crizene.”
“What exactly is Crizene? I’ve never heard of it,” Foreman asked.
“That’s because it’s not exactly readily available. If we hadn’t been using new testing techniques we wouldn’t have been able to detect it at all. It’s a powerful psychotic. It leaves the mind very vulnerable to suggestions. And it’s highly addictive. The detox…” Cameron took a deep breath, “it’ll kill him.”
House put the tiny receiver down on the table. The puzzle was starting to come together. He had the puzzle border to it almost done. “The perfect truth serum. Make him talk. Keep giving it to him until he has nothing left and very addicted, which by that time there’s not much left to him anyhow. Then dump him in an alley and he dies as he starts to detox.” He paused as he nodded to the receiver, “and throw in this little beauty for add incentive to talk, and to keep from running, even if he could. And you have built the perfect mousetrap. If anyone other than us found him, it would appear as if another kid got lost in life and died a street junkie.”
“But who and why,” Cameron asked for all of them.
House almost grinned. He knew how this was going to sound but it was the only way he could see the puzzle looking. “Let’s start with the ‘who’. As my astute colleague, or rather boss, pointed out, not many have this type of technology, only one that we can think of, and only one that could procure enough Crizene to do it. Good old Uncle Sam.” He inwardly smiled at their stunned expressions. The ‘why’ was going to be even better, “As to the ‘why’, his blood is unknown. The DNA tests keep coming up with errors, and someone was precise in taking organ and tissue samples.”
“Wait,” Chase sat straight up in his chair, “you aren’t seriously saying that…that he’s not human?” He was stunned as House gave the slightest of smiles. “That he’s an alien?”
House actually grinned at their astonishment. “If you have a better solution, go find it.” He watched with amusement as his team rose as one, gave him looks as if they were trying to determine his sanity. “And for God’s sake, don’t forget to put him into a chemical induced coma so he doesn’t die on us as he detox’s,” he reminded them as they filed out.
It all fit he told himself, all of it, except for one little piece. If he was truly an alien, an autopsy would be the next logical step. So why dump the kid in an alley to be found and possibly rescued? Why give up the chance to dissect him and find out everything?
He wondered how long it would be before Wilson stopped by to gauge his sanity for him.
He got his answer less than an hour later.
~
Sterling, VA Facility-next day
She backed up in terror. “No. No. Please!” she begged. She glanced at her former coworker who lay crumpled on the floor. The lab looked like a cyclone had blown through it. “Please, I…I saved him. Please! I saved him.”
“Where is he?” Neasedo growled.
“J-Jersey. I took him to Jersey,” she whimpered.
“Why?” he snarled.
“It…it was his only chance,” she pleaded. “He…he n-needed help.”
Neasedo backed off just a bit. He needed more information. “What kind of help? And why in Jersey?”
“D-Dr. House. P-Princeton Plainsboro Teaching H-Hospital,” she replied and closed her eyes, hoping she could control her bladder.
Neasado’s eyes narrowed and bore into her as if they were lasers. “Why would he need a hospital? And why this Dr. House? What have you done to him?”
“The…the drug Crizene. He was too weak to detox.” Tears streamed as she lost the battle with her bladder. “H-House is the best diagnostician in the country. He is the only one that would be able to figure it out in time.”
Neasado was torn. His instinct was to kill her and be done with it, but his head told him that she was the only link to him…at the moment. “Where’s Pierce?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He…he heard about the attack on the other facility and…and ordered…”
“Go on,” Neasado threatened.
“Pierce ordered that…that the Crizene be withheld. Th-that if he gave us any trouble to j-just use the pain-chip to control him instead.” She gulped.
“Pain-chip?” his eyes flashed dangerously. “And did you?”
“N-no. No. Not then. Please, we-we didn’t have to,” she cried.
“And why is that?” he ask in almost too calm of voice, making it all the more dangerous.
“B-b-because he was already too far gone to do anything,” she sobbed. “Please. Pierce was going to let him die a horrible, horrible, painful death and then the autopsy. Please, I saved him. I-I gave him the only chance he had.”
“How exactly did you get him to the hospital?” he asked.
“I-I made sure he was close to the hospital and called an ambulance. I watched as it took him there,” she answered through the tears.
He had to think. Max at a hospital. A good one it seemed. It had to be in order to attract and retain the, what was it she called him, the best diagnostician in the country. So Max was being helped by the best. But the best can be very inquisitive, too inquisitive. But he was probably safe at the moment, at least safer than he had been in the past three months. And if he wasn’t, then it was already too late.
“Where are his records? All of them?” he demanded.
She pointed towards the desk area. “There’s a safe in the floor. It’s…it’s protected by a heavy metal casing.” She trembled as Neasedo marched her over to it. She took the key from around her neck. She was shaking so bad that she had to use both hands to insert the key, heard the click and opened the safe door. She tried to pick up the hidden gun with the bullets that were also made from heavy metal.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Neasedo advised as he grabbed the gun. “The files now and let’s not have any stupid ideas.”
The gun had been her last hope. She knew that once he saw the files, saw her name all over the files as the doctor who’d actually performed most of the procedures that her life was over. “Please. Don’t. I…I saved his life. I saved him. Please, that must count for something.” She slumped to the floor and drew her hands to her knees, hung her head, and sobbed in earnest.
Neasado glanced through the report. His fury barely contained. It was as he’d feared. He glanced at the doctors name tag and picture and then at the report. Saw the name over and over again. Looked back at her and answered her pleas, “It does.” His hand glowed brightly and burned as it hit her flesh. “A quick death.”
Neasado broke several speed laws as he headed to New Jersey.