Chapter 2 - The Man Who Knew My Name
Emergency lights flickered red.
Gabriel’s men immediately moved.
“North entrance,” one said.
“Blocked,” another answered.
Gabriel looked at me.
“Can these men move?”
“Three can.”
“The others?”
“Not safely.”
“We don’t have safely.”
“Then find it.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“You give orders easily.”
“I give medical instructions easily.”
Another distant sound echoed through the tunnel.
Gabriel crouched beside Tommy.
“Can you walk?”
Tommy opened one eye.
“Boss?”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“With help.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“You kept him alive?”
“For now.”
“For now is enough.”
He stood.
“Marco.”
One of his men approached.
“Get emergency vehicles to the maintenance exit.”
“Floodwater’s too high.”
“Then get boats.”
Marco disappeared.
I stared at Gabriel.
“You have boats?”
“I own a shipping company.”
“Of course you do.”
For the first time, something resembling amusement crossed his face.
Then gunfire cracked somewhere far down the tunnel.
Everyone froze.
Gabriel’s expression changed instantly.
“Move.”
His men began carrying the injured.
I grabbed Gabriel’s sleeve.
“Tommy goes first.”
“Why?”
“Possible internal bleeding.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Tommy first.”
No argument.
No ego.
That surprised me.
We reached an old maintenance staircase where water poured down the steps.
Tommy suddenly collapsed.
I dropped beside him.
“Tommy!”
Gabriel crouched.
“What happened?”
“He’s crashing.”
“Fix it.”
I looked at him.
“I need a hospital.”
“Which one?”
“St. Catherine.”
Gabriel noticed my hesitation.
“The hospital that fired you?”
“They have the best trauma unit.”
“You’d go back?”
“To save him?”
I stared directly at him.
“Yes.”
Gabriel pulled out his phone.
“Prepare St. Catherine.”
A voice answered immediately.
“How many?”
“Nine.”
I interrupted.
“Tell them three critical, four serious, two stable.”
Gabriel repeated it.
Then looked at me.
“Anything else?”
“Blood products ready. Trauma surgery standing by.”
He relayed everything.
Twenty minutes later, rescue boats reached the maintenance entrance.
I stayed beside Tommy.
Gabriel stayed beside me.
When we finally reached the street, ambulances were waiting.
So were black SUVs.
And police.
A detective approached Gabriel.
“What happened underground?”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Flooding.”
The detective glanced toward the wounded men.
“Flooding did that?”
Gabriel smiled faintly.
“New Orleans weather.”
The detective clearly knew better.
He also clearly knew when to stop asking questions.
As paramedics loaded Tommy, one recognized me.
“Elena?”
My stomach dropped.
It was Dr. Marcus Bell, former emergency physician at St. Catherine.
“Elena Reyes?”
“Marcus.”
His face hardened.
“What are you doing here?”
“Keeping your patient alive.”
“You’re not licensed.”
“I know.”
“You performed treatment?”
“Nine men were dying.”
“That doesn’t change your status.”
Gabriel stepped beside me.
“She saved them.”
Marcus looked at him.
Then recognized him.
His posture changed.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Doctor.”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Elena cannot practice medicine.”
Gabriel looked at Tommy being loaded.
“Then tonight must have been a miracle.”
Marcus said nothing.
I climbed into the ambulance.
Gabriel grabbed the door.
“Where are you going?”
“With Tommy.”
“They may arrest you.”
“Then they arrest me after he reaches surgery.”
His eyes held mine.
“You always do this?”
“Do what?”
“Walk toward the thing everyone else runs from.”
I pulled the doors shut.
“No.”
I looked through the narrowing gap.
“Only when somebody might die.”
Three hours later, Tommy survived surgery.
Eight other men survived too.
Nine out of nine.
I was sitting alone outside the trauma ward when Gabriel appeared.
He handed me coffee.
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“You’ve been awake eighteen hours.”
“I still don’t drink coffee.”
He sat beside me.
“Why did you lose your license?”
I stared ahead.
“You already know.”
“I know what the official record says.”
“And?”
“I don’t believe it.”
I finally looked at him.
“Why?”
Gabriel leaned forward.
“Because someone who falsifies forensic evidence doesn’t risk prison to save nine strangers.”
My throat tightened.
“That’s not proof.”
“No.”
He reached inside his coat and placed a folder beside me.
“But this might be.”
I opened it.
My former supervisor’s name was printed across the first page.
Dr. Richard Vale.
Underneath were bank transfers.
Dates.
Witness names.
Evidence numbers.
I stopped breathing.
“Where did you get this?”
Gabriel watched me.
“I’ve been looking for you for two weeks.”
“Why?”
“Because Richard Vale didn’t destroy your career by accident.”
I closed the folder.
“What does this have to do with you?”
Gabriel’s answer came quietly.
May you like
“Everything.”
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