Chapter 9 - The Private Clinic
The private surgical center on the fringe of the Loop looked like an upscale plastic surgery spa from the outside, complete with tinted glass doors and a minimalist white-stone lobby. But as Luca’s unregistered sedan pulled into the rear alley behind the delivery bay, the true nature of the operation was obvious: two black SUVs with tinted windows were parked by the medical waste bins, and a private security detail was stationed by the back entrance.
Gabriel checked the magazine of his Sig Sauer one last time in the passenger seat, sliding it home with a sharp, metallic click.
"There are at least four armed guards inside," Luca warned, checking his own weapon. "If we walk through that back door, we’re walking into a controlled box."
"We aren't walking in," Gabriel said, turning to look at me in the back seat. "Nurse, you still have your ID badge from Midwest Private Care in your pocket?"
I patted my jacket pocket, feeling the laminated plastic card. "Yes. It lets me into any medical facility in the tri-state network."
"Good," Gabriel said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that brooked no argument. "Because Julian Vale is a surgeon, which means he has a pathological need to oversee his own recoveries. He’ll be in the recovery suite on the third floor, monitoring my supposed post-operative decline via his private terminal."
"You want me to walk up there alone?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.
"Not alone," Gabriel said, a dark, calculated smile touching his lips. "Luca and I will take the freight elevator shaft on the side of the building. You walk through the front reception wearing your scrubs and your ID. Tell them you're the replacement nurse sent by the agency to check my vital telemetry logs."
"And once I'm inside?"
"Open the security relay box behind the main nurse’s station," Gabriel instructed, pulling a small, modified USB drive from his pocket and handing it to me. "Plug this into the master terminal. It will drop the electronic locks on the third-floor recovery wing and let us straight into Vale’s private office."
I took the small drive, feeling the cool metal against my palm. The gravity of what we were doing settled over me like a lead blanket. This wasn't just treating a patient anymore. I was stepping directly into the crossfire of a thirty-year syndicate war.
"Don't get yourself killed," I told him quietly.
Gabriel looked at me for a long, quiet moment, his dark eyes softening just a fraction before the iron curtain came back down. "Just open the door, Nurse. I'll handle the rest."
Ten minutes later, I walked through the front glass doors of the clinic, my white lab coat crisp against my scrubs, my badge swinging visibly from my lapel. The receptionist barely looked up from her computer as I signed the logbook with a false name and stepped into the elevator.
My hands didn't shake as I pressed the button for the third floor.
When the doors slid open, the sterile scent of antiseptic and polished chrome hit my senses. I walked purposefully down the quiet corridor toward the nurse’s station. The terminal was right where Gabriel said it would be.
I slipped behind the desk, pulled the small USB drive from my pocket, and slid it into the side port of the master console.
Instantly, the computer screen flickered, a string of green code cascading down the monitor as the system override took hold. Down the hall, a series of heavy electromagnetic clicks echoed through the ceiling as the third-floor security doors unlocked.
Before I could pull the drive out, a heavy hand descended firmly onto my shoulder.
"I didn't order a replacement nurse," a smooth, polished voice murmured right beside my ear.
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I spun around. Standing there in a pristine white lab coat, holding a silver surgical tray, was Dr. Adrian Vale—his eyes cold, smiling, and completely dead.
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