Cory's Shift

by Dan Petrosini

  “You mean like meditation?”

  “There’s a relationship if you’re looking to settle your mind. It’s useful and it helps some to focus. But for me, retreating internally, blocking out pain, difficulty, the world for that matter, frees me to pursue a goal.”

  “You said something a while ago about training your mind. Is that what you mean?”

  “The ability to control your consciousness is the most powerful tool man has.”

  “I don’t get it. Isn’t that like your awareness?”

  “Not exactly, but since you mention awareness, how much better would we be if we could block out fear, pain, the elements?”

  “Man, that’s hard.”

  “All it takes is discipline. Discipline equals freedom.”

  “I like that. I tell my kids all the time, the price of discipline is always less than the cost of regret.”

  Black nodded. “Your daughter still doing good?”

  “She seems to be. The doctors say she’ll be back to normal in a month or so.”

  “I hear these guys are using real surgeons.”

  “Yeah, Columbia said whoever did it was a pro.”

  “Between what your daughter described and I can piece together, it looks like they’re using mobile units as hospitals.”

  “That should make it easy to nail them.”

  “These Chinese are too smart. Normally, I’d look to follow the equipment they’d need, but they’ve been importing all kinds of contraband without detection for years.”

  “Bastards.”

  “It’s like drugs. The fact they’re illegal has nothing to do with it. You can’t stop it if people want them.”

  “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

  “Of course not, but you’ve got to know it’s an uphill battle. These guys have plenty of money and have thought this through. They must threaten the recipients to keep them quiet.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “No one has come forward.”

  “The donors made a lot of money, and the recipients got an organ. Why would anyone say something?”

  “Because people talk.”

  “You think they killed someone for talking?”

  Black stopped in his tracks. He turned to Cory. “You’re incredibly naive. They kidnapped your daughter for her liver and left another kid to die. What makes you think they wouldn’t kill?”

  “I guess . . .”

  “I gotta go.”

  Cory watched Black walk away, and he was right; these guys would kill if threatened. As he headed out of the park, Cory realized that trying to shut these guys down was too dangerous to pursue.

  * * *

  A step away from Ava’s room, Tommy broke into a run. “We’re here, Ava!”

  Cory said, “Be careful. Don’t jump on your sister!”

  Linda said, “Hi, honey, how are you today?”

  Ava shrugged. “All right, I guess.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  “When did the doctor say I can come home?”

  “A couple of more days.”

  Ava frowned. “I want out of here.”

  “You can have your friends visit now.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t you want to see your friends?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not ready to see anybody.”

  “What do you mean? You’re fine, the doctors said it’ll be good for you.”

  “I don’t want to!”

  “Okay, honey, take it easy.”

  Cory opened the blinds.

  “Leave it!”

  “It’s dark in here.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Cory saw the pained look on his wife’s face. He closed the blinds. “You tell me when you’re ready to see your friends, I’ll drive them up.”

  Tommy said, “What’s the matter, Ava? You don’t want us here?”

  “I’m just tired, okay. Everybody is always asking how I feel. I’m sick of it.”

  Cory said, “I need a cup of coffee. Let’s leave Ava alone for a while.”

  As they filed out, he looked at his daughter. Her life had been interrupted in the most brutal way. They’d been so focused on her physical recovery, they’d never given thought to the mental scar of being snatched off the street and having part of her body stolen.

  It was a violation that was simply unheard of. The trauma from being raped permanently damaged women. He shuddered to think this might be worse.

  Cory felt she’d rebound, but it was no sure thing. Would she live in fear the rest of her life? It was a possibility, and it shook him. Who were these bastards who did this to his little girl?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Staring at the ceiling, Cory bounced between bouts of rage and fear. He slipped out of bed. Checking the clock, he shook his head—3:19 a.m. It was the second night that he’d been unable to sleep because of what Ava had gone through.

  Cory trudged into the studio, softly shutting the door. He clicked on the keyboard and put his headphones on. Looking at the sixteen bars he’d composed last night, Cory hummed the melody. It needed work but was catchy.

  He placed his fingers on the keys and found a triplet figure he liked. He took it down a step and repeated the three notes. Cory played it twice more before jotting it on manuscript paper.

  Cory played the entire melody and smiled. It sounded good. He explored ideas for the bridge. Nothing was particularly interesting, so he did what he did when stuck: he shifted to writing ideas to lyrics.

  Rhymes were an important musical device, especially in music for children. While erasing a line, there was a knock on the door. Linda stuck her head in. “Good morning. How long you been in here?”

  Cory pulled his headphones down. “What time is it?”

  “Six ten.”

  “Wow. Couldn’t sleep.”

  “You’ve got bags under your eyes.”

  He shrugged and held up his composition. “At least I got some good work in.”

  “Grab a nap. You’ve got an hour before Tommy gets up.”

  “I’ll try.”

  As soon as Cory lay his head on the pillow, he started thinking about Ava. He tried to think about Tommy but kept seeing her on a gurney.

  He tried to picture the surgeon. Was he a doctor somewhere and did this on the side? How many physicians worked for the illegal operation? And what about nurses? They probably recruited their medical staff from foreign countries.

  He settled on people who couldn’t pass the rigorous requirements the United States had. Cory wondered if a nurse had comforted Ava. She must have felt so alone. When he thought about them slicing into her, he swung his legs out of bed.

  It was no use. He went into the bathroom wondering if he should try a pill to sleep. He’d heard melatonin worked on some people. Passing the studio, he realized he’d been able to shut down the preoccupation when music was involved.

  It wasn’t always that way. He remembered getting distracted in the early days, but he’d learned to focus. It was an acquired skill. Could he learn to quiet his mind? Control it like Mr. Black had said?

  Black didn’t seem the teaching type. If he wouldn’t help, Cory would find a way to learn it himself.

  * * *

  Cory hugged the wall as two officers walked an intoxicated man to booking. It was the first time he’d been inside a police station not under arrest. With three experiences as a handcuffed prisoner, he couldn’t understand why the place felt so chaotic.

  He wondered whether being in shock from an arrest dulled what was going on around you. Cory scanned the photos of the wanted persons and missing children.

  It was a grim picture of the New York he loved. Wondering what level of crime was acceptable in a city with more than eight million people, he heard his name called.

  Detective Grillo was standing in a doorway. He waved him over. “Sorry, Mr. Lupinski. It’s a little crazy here tod
ay.”

  “I can see that.”

  “We’ll go to my office.”

  Cory followed him through a bullpen area packed with desks. This was one place where real landline phones still played a role.

  You couldn’t park a Mini Cooper in the space Grillo called his office. He took a stack of files off a chair. “Have a seat.”

  The detective squeezed behind his metal desk. “What brings you here?”

  “You never returned my calls. I know you’re busy, but I called a couple of times.”

  “I’m sorry.” He swept his hand over the stacks of files. “As you see, we’ve got a lot going on.”

  “I’m sure you do, and I don’t want to seem selfish, but all I care about is getting the guys who took Ava. I want an update on the case.”

  “I understand your concern. I’d feel the same way.”

  “And? What’s going on with it?”

  “Unfortunately, not much. We’re trying to identify the location or locations where they do what they do.”

  “They’re using trucks.”

  “We’re not sure of that.”

  “What do you mean? Ava told you she was in a truck or some kind of vehicle.”

  “Yes, but we believe she was transferred to be dropped off.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We’ve talked at length with medical professionals, and they don’t think these kinds of surgeries can be successfully performed in a truck.”

  “I’ll ask the people at Mount Sinai. They do a lot of transplants up there.”

  “Any and all information is useful.” Grillo reached for his ringing desk phone. “Excuse me a second.”

  The detective promised someone he’d be there in five minutes and hung up. “Sorry, another emergency just cropped up.”

  “What else are you doing?”

  “We’ve got our network of informers looking for information.”

  “Why isn’t anyone talking to the patients on waiting lists? If they weren’t willing to buy an organ, these guys would be out of business.”

  “That may be true, but we just don’t have the resources to do that, besides, it’s not the role this office plays.”

  “I don’t get it. What you’re saying is, you wait until some kid dies or is mangled to get involved.”

  “That’s not the way it is.”

  Grillo’s phone rang again. He put up a hand and picked up the receiver. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Cory passed Petrarca Cuisine and Vino, wishing he were lunching at the Tribeca eatery instead of where he was going. He turned onto Franklin Street and steeled himself when he saw the sign for Aire Ancient Baths.

  Cory changed into a bathing suit. Towel and phone in hand, he walked down a hallway. He slowed as he approached the brick-lined walls of the cold-plunge room.

  The pool was empty. It made him wonder just how bad an idea it was. Cory dipped a foot in the fifty-degree water and yanked it out.

  This was crazy. Couldn’t he get a heart attack from the shock of such cold water? He rummaged through his mind, trying to recall the warnings he’d read.

  He considered leaving. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming, not even Linda. It’d be a waste of money, but what else was new? Cory slung the towel around his neck and headed out.

  He paused, realizing it was all about Ava. What would he say to her or Tommy about doing something you didn’t want to?

  He told himself that wasn’t it, it wasn’t about anybody else. It was about him, about trying to control himself.

  Cory turned around. Dropping his towel on a bench, he stood by the pool stairs. He took deep breaths. Better to go in all at one shot, not like some old-timer on Miami Beach.

  He counted, one, two, three. Here we go. Cory stepped down, drawing and holding a gulp of air. His toes hit the bottom and he paused. The water was ice-cold. It took his breath away.

  Cory held his phone over his head and bent his knees. The water encircled his chest. Breathing rapidly, Cory took a couple of selfies. He popped up and rushed to the stairs.

  Foot on the first stair, he stopped. He slid his phone away from the edge and turned around. He’d done it. Now, he had to do it again and stay under for a while.

  Cory lowered himself. The cold stung but he did his best to keep his mind on breathing the way Wim Hof had done on YouTube. Hof had set records for withstanding the cold, even scaling most of Mount Everest in shorts.

  Forcing himself to stay submerged, Cory thought of Hof and Black. They were proof you could control your mind, evidence of a mental strength that made focusing easier.

  Cory rose, climbing the stairs out of the pool. He smiled. He’d done it. He couldn’t wait to text Black the photos.

  He considered it proof he could do anything.

  * * *

  Linda peeled her jacket off. Shaking his head, Cory hung up the phone. She asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m pissed. I called Grillo for an update, and he was like, short with me.”

  “He’s probably busy, that’s all.”

  “Nah, they’re doing nothing about what happened to Ava.”

  “They have to be doing something.”

  “Yeah? You know what he said about the Hendry kid? He said they don’t think it’s the same gang. He said it was a copycat thing.”

  “He did?”

  “Yep. They’re burying their heads in the sand. It’s frigging ridiculous. These people work for us.”

  “I hate to say it, but they’re way too busy. There were five hundred murders in the city last year, and we’re going higher this year.”

  “So, hire more cops then. What are they going to do, let this city turn into a war zone?”

  “You know, I was thinking; maybe we should consider moving to the suburbs or someplace safer for the kids.”

  “No place is going to be safe unless we make it safe. Crime spreads as quick as fire does.”

  “Look what happened to us, to our kids. Now, you want to be a vigilante?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. All I’m saying is we can’t just run from every problem.

  “Why not? I don’t want my kids to grow up in fear.”

  “I know, but I’m sorry. It’s too late for Ava. I’m really worried she’s scarred by all this.”

  “And you think sticking around the city where it happened is okay?”

  “All I’m saying is we can’t cut and run. We should be a part of the solution.”

  “You want to do patrols? Get a badge or something?”

  “Oh, come on now, Linda. That’s a stupid thing to say. Besides, where are we going to move? Westchester, Jersey?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Or Long Island.”

  “Yeah? And how am I going to work? Everything I do is in the city.”

  “You could build a nice studio if we had a house or something.”

  “I can’t isolate myself. I won’t get any studio sessions, and what about my students?”

  “You can’t always think of yourself.”

  “You’re calling me selfish? How does worrying about providing for my family make me selfish?”

  “I didn’t say you were. Look, let’s just forget it, okay?”

  “No, I can’t leave it like this. This family means everything to me.”

  “I know it does. I’m sorry, I just thought a move might be good for everybody.”

  “I get what you’re saying, but it wouldn’t work. Besides, you know what they say, you can run, but you can’t hide.”

  “I know, but I don’t want you to turn into one of those crusaders against crime or something.”

  Cory grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “If you call wanting justice for what they did to Ava being a crusader, then I’m okay with it.”

  He walked along Bedford Avenue searching his soul. Was he being unreasonable for wanting to punish those responsible for taking his daughter’s liver? No, every parent would deman
d the same. It was a normal reaction.

  But was it justice or revenge that he desired? He admitted wanting them to pay for it, but digging deeper, he didn’t want any child or person to be used for parts.

  The cops didn’t seem to want to put the resources into shutting down the group. It didn’t make sense. Did the authorities think illegal transplants helped solve the organ shortage?

  He couldn’t buy that as the reason. It had to be they were overwhelmed and had to concentrate resources on killings and rapes.

  He understood to a degree but remembered what a high school teacher had taught him about Alexander Hamilton. One of the nation’s Founding Fathers had said: If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.

  He’d come back to that quote many times over the years. It was one of the sayings he invoked when people questioned his decision to donate most of his royalties to fighting childhood cancer.

  It was speaking to him again. Cory had to find a way to do something.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Shu turned the lights on and put a kettle on the stove. He looked forward to talking to his old friend but needed a jolt of caffeine to start the day.

  He steeped his pu-erh tea, watching the water turn inky black. Shu went into his den, slipping behind his desk.

  He took a sip and palmed his new Solarin. The sleek, Israeli-made phone was the world’s most secure. He appreciated the Party’s fascination with security as the clock ticked toward the appointed call time.

  He missed seeing Gao. Shu was one of the few who felt he had a genuine friendship with the Party leader. Maybe it was because they knew each other as kids. As the grandchild of a politburo leader, Gao had risen through the ranks.

  Gao was feared by many, but Shu believed he was misunderstood. His initiatives were necessary to forge China into the world’s leader. Those opposing Gao’s programs had enriched themselves running state entities and were unwilling to take risks for the greater good.

  The leader believed technology and medicine were the areas that returned the most on the public relations front. It was a door opener and eased other nations’ concerns about freedom. Shu smiled, knowing that when your life was on the line, you didn’t care about freedom of speech or what kind of a government ruled you.