Chapter Six Walking Into Fire

Something was wrong.

Elowen had been at the safehouse for eighteen hours, copying files, gathering evidence. Then she stopped responding.

"Last contact?" I asked.

Frank checked his phone. "Six hours ago. Text saying she was tired, going to sleep."

"And no one checked on her?"

"Guards checked at midnight. She was asleep, the door was locked from inside. Everything is okay."

My gut screamed it wasn't normal.

"We need to go there. Now."

Frank studied my face. Nodded. "Get your coat."

The safehouse looked fine from outside. But the guards weren't at their posts.

"Stay behind me," Frank said, drawing his gun.

We entered carefully. First guard in the hallway unconscious, drugged. Second guard the same.

Elowen's room was at the end of the hall. Door ajar.

Frank went in first, gun raised. I followed.

The room was empty. Bed made, window open. And on the pillow, a note.

Frank picked it up and handed it to me.

Dr. Evan.

You made a mistake coming back from the dead. If you want Dr. Meshack to keep breathing, come to Boston Memorial. Fourth floor, Surgical Suite B. Tonight, midnight. Alone. Don't make me wait.

RC

Richard Chen.

"It's a trap," Frank said.

"I know."

"You're not going."

"Yes, I am. He took her because of me."

He grabbed my shoulders. "If you go in alone, you’ll die. This isn't about rescue. It's about eliminating witnesses."

"So what do we do?"

"We spring the trap. On our terms." He pulled out his phone, made rapid calls. "By the time you walk into that hospital, twenty armed men will surround the building. Chen sees you alone. What he doesn't see is me coming."

We flew to Boston that afternoon on a private plane along with two guards.

Midnight. I stood outside Boston Memorial wearing a wire, hidden camera, and a tracker in my shoe.

Frank and his team positioned themselves around the building.

I walked inside. Took the elevator to the fourth floor. The surgical suite was dark, I smelled it before I saw it.

Elowen was tied to a surgical chair. Gagged with gauze. Eyes wide, red-rimmed, pleading.

Dr. Chen stood beside her, gloves on, and scalpel in his hand. Like he was prepping for an operation.

Maybe he was.

"Dr. Evan." He smiled like we'd bumped into each other at a conference. "Welcome home. It's been too long.”

"Let her go."

"I don't think so. Elowen stole from me. That requires consequences. "He pressed the scalpel against her throat. "But you're the real prize. You and your inconvenient conscience."

"She didn't do anything."

"She stole fifty files. Evidence you planned to use against me. Now tell me. Where have you been hiding? Who's protecting you? Who else knows?"

"And if I don't?"

"Then I start with Dr. Meshack." He pressed the blade against Elowen's throat. A thin line of red appeared. "Then I find everyone else who helped you. Your clinic neighbors. That nurse you hired." He met my eyes. "Everyone who knew you were alive. Starting now.”

"Wait. I'll tell you everything. Just let her go."

"Tell me first," he demanded.

"I've been with Frank Costello. He's been protecting me. He has all your files."

Chen's chest stuttered. He forgot to breathe for three full seconds. "The Costello family."

"I went to the only person who could keep me alive."

He laughed. "How unfortunate for you."

"Why?"

"Because Frank Costello and Antonio Russo have been circling each other for three years, waiting for the first shot. And you just fired it. 

Congratulations, Dr. Evan. You started a war.” 

"Good." I pressed the panic button in my coat pocket. Three times. The signal.

"What did you just do?"

"Called for help. You didn't think I'd come alone, did you?”

The door exploded open.

Frank came through first, gun raised. Six armed men followed.

"Dr. Chen. Step away from the doctor."

Chen didn't move. "You're making a mistake."

"The only mistake I made was letting you breathe this long." Frank advanced slowly. "Drop the scalpel."

"Antonio won't let this stand."

"Antonio thinks you're a liability. You think he cares about you? One phone call, one planted document, and Antonio will have you killed within the hour."

Chen went pale. Not movie-pale corpse-pale.

"So here's what will happen. You confess everything. Every patient, every organ, every dollar. You name everyone involved and you testify. Or I tell Antonio you're an FBI informant. You choose."

“And if I refuse.”

"Then I shoot you in the head right now and save the FBI some paperwork. Your choice. But choose fast. I'm not a very patient man."

Chen looked at the gun. At Frank's face. At his men positioned around the room.

At his options narrowing to nothing.

"If I testify, I'm dead. Antonio will have me killed in prison."

"Probably. But you'll be alive long enough to see the inside of a cell. That's more than you'll get from me." Frank gestured with his gun. "Decide. Now."

Chen's hand shook. The scalpel wavered against Elowen's throat.

Then he dropped it.

The blade clattered to the floor, impossibly loud in the silence.

"Fine," Chen said hoarsely. "I'll testify. I'll tell you everything. Just... I want full immunity. Witness protection."

"FBI's call, not mine." Frank lowered his gun slightly. "But I'll make the recommendation."

"Then get me the FBI."

Frank smiled. "Already here."

The door crashed open. FBI agents flooded in, vests marked in yellow letters, guns drawn.

"Dr. Richard Chen. FBI! You're under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, organ trafficking and wire fraud.

They cuffed him. As they led him away, Chen looked back.

"You destroyed my life."

"No," I said quietly. "You destroyed it yourself. I just made sure everyone knew."

The aftermath took hours.

FBI statements. Medical examination for Elowen minor cuts, dehydration, shock, but alive. Paperwork. Questions. More questions. 

Dawn was breaking when we finally left the hospital.

Frank drove. His men followed in a second car. Elowen was asleep in the back seat, her head on my shoulder, breathing steadily.

I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes, the city lights were closer.

I caught his reflection in the rearview mirror first. He was watching me. For a half second neither of us moved, then his eyes shifted back to the road like it hadn't happened.

I looked back out the window. "What happens now?" 

"Now Chen testifies. Names everyone involved. Boston Memorial gets investigated, probably sued, definitely embarrassed. And you get to decide what comes next."

"What do you mean?"

He met my eyes in the mirror. "You could leave. Take the money, get a new identity, start over somewhere else. Or…"

"Or?"

"Or you could stay. Don't answer now. Think about it." He looked back at the road.

I didn't know what to say to that.

So I sat there in silence, watching Boston disappear behind us, thinking about choices and families and the increasingly blurry line between captivity and home.