Cory's Shift

by Dan Petrosini

  “Then call the FBI.”

  “By the time they stop these guys, Tommy will be driving.”

  “We should go to the press and make a stink. They’ll be forced to get on the case.”

  “But they’ll come after us again.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Forget that.”

  “The only way to end this is to do it myself.”

  “Don’t you dare, Cory. Stop with that nonsense.”

  “It’s a good idea.”

  “Yeah, if you want to get killed.”

  “Don’t be an alarmist.”

  “Alarmist? Going undercover to sell an organ, that’s not crazy?”

  “Not if you do it right.”

  “And you have experience at this?”

  “Mr. Black has a ton of experience. I’d be working with him on it.”

  “He wants to do it himself, go for it. There’s no way you’re going to be some kind of spy.”

  There was a light knock on the door. “Dad? Can you help me with my homework?”

  Opening the door, Cory said, “Sure, tiger.”

  * * *

  Cory was dreaming. Linda bolted out of bed. “What’s the matter?”

  “Ava’s screaming.”

  The couple dashed to their daughter’s room. Ava was going between wailing and moaning.

  “Ava. Ava. Wake up.”

  Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She opened her eyes. “I had a horrible dream.”

  “It’s okay, honey. It’s only a nightmare.”

  Ava gasped, “They were taking my heart. My chest was being cut open. And they, they were laughing at me. I couldn’t move. My arms were tied. I couldn’t stop them.”

  Linda embraced her. “Oh honey, I’m sorry.”

  Ava sobbed. “I’m so afraid. I know they’re going to get me again.”

  Cory said, “No. That’s crazy. They would never do that.”

  Ava shook out of Linda’s embrace. “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.”

  She shook her head and buried her face in a pillow.

  Linda rubbed her back. “Honey, there’s nothing to be scared of. We’re here for you.”

  “No one can stop them.”

  “That’s not true. It was just a bad dream.”

  Ava bolted upright, pulling her pajama top up. “Yeah? Then how’d I get this?”

  “Dad?”

  Tommy stood in the doorway. “Go to sleep, Tommy.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Ava’s had a bad dream. It’s nothing. Go back to bed.”

  “Again? She woke me up the last two nights.”

  Cory walked his son back to his room. “You got to tell me if something is going on with your sister. If we don’t know, we can’t help.”

  “She’s afraid the bad guys are coming back.”

  “You don’t believe they will, do you?”

  Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m a little afraid too.”

  Cory tussled his son’s hair. “There’s nothing to be scared about. The police will get them.”

  “What’s taking them so long?”

  “They have a lot of crimes to deal with.”

  “They should get more policemen.”

  “They are. It just takes time to train them. Now, get back to sleep.”

  Crawling back into bed, Linda said, “She is getting worse.”

  “Tommy said she’s been having nightmares. I wish he would’ve said something.”

  “I feel bad he has to see all this.”

  “Hate to tell you, but he’s also afraid these guys are going to come after them again.”

  “Oh no. What are we going to do?”

  Cory propped himself on an elbow. “I know you’re against it, but we don’t have a choice.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Working with Mr. Black to infiltrate the gang.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “You don’t know Black. He’s super cautious.”

  “There’s no way you’re the one doing it.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  “If he wants to go undercover, and it has to be him, and you keep your distance, I guess I’m okay with it.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Shu finished reading a research paper and closed the encrypted document. The confidential report, from Johns Hopkins Medicine, featured preliminary results of a clinical trial.

  The latest hack contained valuable information. Hopkins had tested a regimen of immune-suppressing drugs, reducing organ rejection rates by 8 percent. Shu’s operation was using the same drugs but with different dosages and combinations.

  Shu smiled. He’d instruct his people to administer the medicines in accordance with the report. Obtaining the information before it could be widely adopted would give him an edge. He calculated the American bureaucracy would delay full-scale implementation for a year.

  He opened a spreadsheet, putting in a password to gain access. He scrolled down the rows of countries to Argentina. Gao had secured inside information from Argentina’s Ministry of Health.

  Public records had understated transplant waiting times in the South American country. The true wait time exceeded a decade for livers and six years for a kidney. Authorities cited the poor recovery rate of donors for the increase.

  Argentina’s economic problems were covered by the news, but Shu knew there were plenty of rich Argentines. He’d target them, as he had the Canadians. It would bring a fresh stream of people willing to pay top dollar for an organ. Shu smiled at the thought of transplant tourism.

  Operating on foreigners was a new focus for Shu. He believed it would help to keep the authorities away. While wondering what Gao would uncover about other nations’ true wait times, Li knocked on his door.

  “You have an update on the supply lines?”

  “Yes, the Arizona line arrived an hour ago. Tay said the quality is excellent. He’s sending a report to your QQ account.”

  “Good, and the New Mexican supply?”

  “Approximately eleven hours out.”

  “Perfect. Tell Ling Ling to get the car.”

  “Uh, there is a problem I thought you should know about.”

  “And it is?”

  “Dr. Zheng called in with a medical emergency.”

  Shu stiffened. “With a recipient?”

  “Both. He said the donor has clotting issues and the recipient some kind of blockage.”

  “Some kind? How am I supposed to act if I don’t have proper information?”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Where are they parked?”

  “Harrison, New York.”

  Shu stood. “Tell Ling we’re going, and instruct Zheng to call me immediately.”

  Passing Yankee Stadium, Shu’s cell rang. “Doctor Zheng, what is the condition of your patients?”

  “The donor is generating an unusual number of clots.”

  “Have you administered an anticoagulant?”

  “I was hesitant—”

  “You do realize the risk of an aneurysm is high.”

  “Yes, sir. I was concerned about him bleeding out.”

  “If he has a stroke, bleeding is not going to be the problem. You must administer a low dose of an anticoagulant.”

  “We’ll get it started immediately.”

  “What is the status of the recipient?”

  “A blockage developed in the ureter.”

  “Did you attempt a flushing?”

  “The patient is in his late seventies, and the walls of the tube are compressed.”

  “Is urine backing up?”

  “Not materially.”

  “Slow the intravenous feed. It’ll give us time to see if it resolves itself.”

  “I did that before calling.”

  “Good. I expect to be there in under an hour.”

  “It’s not necessary, sir.”

  “It’s my duty. These patients must fully recover.” />
  Shu hung up and made a call. “Tay, find out what happened with Zheng’s procedures. Talk to the nurses, in private.”

  “Will do.”

  “I don’t recall the ages of the patients in the first two surgeries he did and their general health. I need you to check.”

  “No problem. Hang on.”

  “Text it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The car sped north, and the concrete gave way to greenery. Shu’s phone pinged. There came a text from Tay: 1st - 28 and 68; 2nd - 31 and 64 Both sets of males in excellent health.

  Shu sat back. The patients had been much younger and in good health. Zheng had only a year of real-world surgical experience. Shu wondered if this would have happened with another surgeon.

  Shu would have to be careful using Zheng. It was another reminder that the new bottleneck to growth was the supply of competent surgeons. He closed his eyes, considering options to solve the problem.

  Exiting the New York State Thruway, Shu opened his eyes. He had an idea he’d discuss with Gao. They drove on a country road, turning onto a gravel driveway.

  A half a mile off the main road, an RV sat in the cover of a dilapidated barn. Shu got out, rapping a knuckle on the door. The door opened. Shu stepped up into a small, plastic-curtained space.

  He put on the disposable gown and mask he was handed and slipped into the main cabin. Two gurneys were at the head and two at the rear of the equipment-filled galley.

  Shu nodded at the nurses sitting beside the rear beds. A man in green scrubs was bent over a patient in the front. He saw Shu, spoke to a nurse, and hurried over.

  “Dr. Zheng.” Shu picked up a clipboard off the end of a gurney. “How are the patients?”

  “The donor seems to be responding. The X-rays and ultrasound aren’t showing evidence of bleeding.”

  “Good, but we’ll need to do a CT scan to be sure.”

  “But where? We can’t bring him to a hospital.”

  “We can’t have him die.”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ll transport him to a surgi center we trust for the test. Write up a script using appendicitis for cover. Call Tay when we’re done. He’ll make the arrangements.”

  “But it may not be necessary.”

  “We can’t take the risk to our operation. Now, the recipient’s blockage?”

  “It improved marginally.”

  “What about inserting a stent into the tube?”

  “I was going to ask permission.”

  “Let’s get going.”

  “You’re going to assist?”

  “Observe.”

  “Check the cystoscope beforehand. It’s never been used.”

  Shu went to check on the other set of patients. He scanned the monitors. The vitals for both were strong, tamping down his fear.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Black was sitting on a curvy chair in another park Cory had never been to. This time it was Grand Central Plaza. He liked the bird’s-eye view the second-story setting gave of the intersection of Fortieth Street and Third Avenue.

  Cory sat next to Black. “This is another cool spot.”

  “A building this short is rare in Midtown.”

  “Yeah. Whoever owns it is passing up big bucks.”

  “Heard they made a deal with the city to leave this one alone in exchange for approving a project on the West Side.”

  “Figures.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I want to go ahead with the undercover plan.”

  “You talk to your old lady?”

  “She’s on board.”

  “You didn’t tell her everything, did you?”

  Cory smiled. “She’s on a need-to-know basis.”

  “It’s your marriage.”

  “It’s all good. You got contacts to hook me up as a donor?”

  “Not gonna be a problem, as long as you’re willing to pay.”

  “How much?”

  “Eight grand.”

  “Done.”

  “Cash.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “You really want to do this?”

  “A hundred percent.”

  “You can get killed.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. First, you've got to survive the border area. Life is cheap down there. The cartels will kill you if they don’t like the color of your hair.”

  “I’ll be all right. As long as you get me into the pool of donors the Chinese are pulling from, I’ll be good.”

  “What organ you going to say you’re donating? A kidney?”

  “Originally, but I want to say it’s a liver segment, like they took from Ava.”

  “What did I tell you about emotion? You’re going to blow it if you start getting weepy.”

  “It’s not emotion talking. Even though a liver regenerates, there are fewer people willing to donate because it’s more dangerous for liver donors. I figure it’ll increase the odds I’ll get picked.”

  “A kidney is safer. They could force you to donate for real.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “What happens if they knock you out and really take a hunk of your liver?”

  “Your contacts said they don’t put them under until they do the operation.”

  “What happens if they change it up? What happens if help doesn’t come soon enough? Then what?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “This isn’t a game.”

  “After what they did to Ava, I sure as hell know that. Now, aren’t there some drugs to prevent someone from going under?”

  “There are a couple of antidotes for the muscle relaxers they give before surgery.”

  “You can get them, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “We can hide them in my sneaker or something.”

  “Got to be the anal cavity.”

  Cory squirmed. “Why?”

  “You can’t take the chance. These guys may strip you.”

  “You think they’ll do that?”

  “They’re sophisticated. They won’t take chances.”

  “But that’s gross.”

  “Better than being dead. Besides, you use a little Vaseline and you’ll be okay.”

  “But what happens when I gotta go number two.”

  “You’ll figure it out, like you said.”

  “Not funny.”

  “None of this is. I’m concerned about you not speaking any Spanish.”

  “I can imitate broken English; the Chinese will never know.” Cory began talking like someone from Mexico with limited English.

  “It’s good enough to fool the Chinese, but the problem is the other donors. They speak Spanish.”

  “So?”

  “If you’re posing as one of them, you’d be expected to speak Spanish.”

  “I can’t just keep to myself?”

  “It’d raise suspicion. It’s better to claim to be from Belize. It’s just south of Mexico, to the east. English is an official language there. You’d need to study the accented way they speak it, but it’s not going to be hard.”

  “I didn’t know they spoke English there.”

  “It was part of the British empire until 1981.”

  “I’ll watch YouTube videos to get the accent down.”

  “You’ll get it. But also put time into learning some Spanish.”

  Cory was confident with his ear that he’d pick up enough Spanish to get by. “I will. What about surveillance equipment?”

  “The miniature stuff isn’t cheap.”

  “Where do you get it?”

  “A contact in Russian intelligence.”

  “Really?”

  Black nodded. “The small stuff has a short battery life. You’ve got to record as soon as possible.”

  “Can it upload to the web?”

  “Not without Wi-Fi.”

  “No problem, I’ll ask them for the password.” Cory laughed.

  “
But thinking about this, what you need is a GPS tracker.”

  “Why? We need proof, pictures of what they’re doing.”

  “We’ll know where you are. If the cops come, they’ll nab the surgical RV unit.”

  Cory lowered his voice. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize that.”

  “Omissions and mistakes are deadly.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m inclined to focus on the transport end. It’s just too dangerous to have you in the surgical unit. They’ve got to have strict controls, and if they drug you, it’s over.”

  “But—”

  Black stuck his hand up. “You get chosen to come north, and we bury a tracker in a place like your shoe. That way, we can follow the RV. If you don’t get made on the way up, they’ll lead us right to the people doing the surgeries.”

  “Why not in the, you know, anal cavity? They’ll never find it there.”

  “They scan for electronic devices, and it’s game over for you.”

  “Man, you thought of everything. It’s a perfect plan.”

  “No plan is perfect. Always remember what Mike Tyson said.”

  “The boxer?”

  “Yep. He said, ‘Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face.’ He’s damn right about that. You have to be able to improvise.”

  “I know that. Playing music, I improvise all the time.”

  “That’s another world.”

  “Maybe, but when you’re playing in front of fifty thousand people, you don’t think you get nervous? My hands used to shake when I started out, could barely hold the guitar, and my mind used to blank out. It wasn’t easy, but I learned how to shut everything around me out.”

  “I get it, but playing music isn’t life and death.”

  “I know, but I’ve been under a ton of pressure performing, cutting records, and yeah, I partied too much to blow off steam, but I always delivered.”

  “You think I didn’t know that? I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that. But I’m telling you, this is another thing entirely. It’s not like blowing a song. With this, there’s no room for error. One screwup, and you’ll never see your family again.”

  “You really think it’s that dangerous?”

  “Absolutely. You better be sure you want to do this.”

  “There’s no doubt in my mind. I have to do it, but I need your help.”

  “Look, sit on this a couple of days. You decide you don’t want to do it, no problem. It’s like we never talked about it.”