Chapter 7 - ST. JUDE’S
The hospital where Clara’s life had begun collapsing became the place Samuel chose to end everything.
He occupied the old surgical wing.
Thirty-seven hostages.
Six armed men.
Marcus Vale had escaped during a prisoner transfer twelve minutes before Samuel entered the building.
Clara did not believe in coincidence anymore.
Police surrounded St. Jude’s.
Victor’s people surrounded the police.
For once, criminals and law enforcement were aiming in approximately the same direction.
Samuel called.
Clara answered.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You know now.”
“I know Nathan Hayes was my father.”
Silence.
Then Samuel laughed.
“Biology disagrees.”
“Biology doesn’t tuck a frightened kid into bed after nightmares.”
Victor watched Clara from across the command vehicle.
Samuel’s voice hardened.
“Bring the microfilm.”
“And you release everyone.”
“I release half when you enter. The rest when I leave.”
“No.”
Victor shook his head.
Clara ignored him.
“All hostages leave before you do.”
“You’re negotiating?”
“I’m Nathan Hayes’s daughter. Apparently stubbornness is hereditary even when DNA isn’t.”
Samuel chuckled.
“Come upstairs.”
The call ended.
Victor immediately said, “No.”
Clara zipped her jacket.
“Twenty minutes ago you told me I don’t belong to you.”
“You don’t.”
“Good.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m letting you walk into a hostage situation.”
“You aren’t letting me do anything.”
Roman wisely stepped away.
Victor lowered his voice.
“Clara.”
She looked at him.
Behind the anger was terror.
That changed her tone.
“I know that building.”
“So does Vale.”
“I know the old surgical wing better.”
She pointed at the blueprint.
“There’s a decommissioned pneumatic-tube corridor behind radiology. Renovation sealed the main entrance, but maintenance access still exists through the basement.”
Victor studied it.
“You can get behind them.”
“We can.”
He looked at her.
“We?”
“You didn’t think I was going alone.”
Despite everything, Victor laughed once.
It was brief.
Surprised.
Human.
Clara realized she had never heard him laugh.
Then his face became serious.
“If anything happens—”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn this into a goodbye.”
Their eyes held.
Victor nodded.
“No goodbye.”
They entered through the basement.
Roman led four men through maintenance corridors while Clara guided Victor upstairs.
Memories assaulted her.
The residents’ lounge.
The elevator where she had cried after her first pediatric death.
Operating Room 6.
The place where Daniel Price had died.
Clara stopped outside it.
Victor touched her shoulder.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good enough?”
She inhaled.
“Yes.”
They continued.
Samuel had placed hostages inside recovery.
Clara crawled through a maintenance hatch and reached the oxygen-control room.
She shut down one zone.
An alarm sounded.
Two gunmen moved to investigate.
Victor’s team took them silently.
Four remained.
Clara entered the surgical corridor openly.
Samuel stood at the far end.
“Clara.”
Beside him was Marcus Vale.
Vale looked desperate.
Samuel looked pleased.
“My daughter finally came home.”
“This was never my home.”
She held up the locket.
“Release them.”
Samuel gestured.
Eighteen hostages were allowed toward the stairs.
Clara counted.
“More.”
“The locket.”
“More.”
Samuel smiled.
“You really are mine.”
Clara’s voice became ice.
“No. I’m the daughter of a man who ran toward a bleeding stranger. You’re the man who ran his car off a road.”
Samuel’s smile vanished.
He released ten more.
Nine remained.
Victor was somewhere behind the walls.
Clara needed time.
“Why Daniel?”
Samuel shrugged.
“He discovered accounts he shouldn’t have.”
“Why use me?”
“That was Elias’s idea.”
Samuel smiled again.
“He has a sense of poetry.”
Clara’s blood chilled.
“Where is Elias?”
Samuel’s eyes flickered.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But Clara saw it.
He was afraid.
“Samuel.”
She stepped closer.
“You aren’t working with Elias.”
Silence.
“You’re working for him.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened.
And Clara understood.
All his confidence was borrowed.
“You’re scared of him.”
“Shut up.”
“He used you.”
“I said shut up.”
“He made you betray Victor’s father. He made you destroy my career. And after thirty years, you’re still his errand boy.”
Samuel raised his gun.
Exactly what Clara wanted.
His attention left the hostages.
Victor emerged behind him.
“Drop it.”
Samuel froze.
Vale panicked.
He grabbed Clara.
Again.
This time she was ready.
Clara drove her elbow backward.
Vale stumbled.
A gunshot exploded.
Victor lunged.
Samuel fell.
Vale ran.
Roman tackled him.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Then Clara looked down.
Blood covered her hands.
Not hers.
Victor stood in front of her.
A dark stain spread across his abdomen.
“Victor?”
He looked almost annoyed.
“That’s inconvenient.”
Then he collapsed.
Clara caught him.
“No. No, no, no.”
The bullet had entered near the wound she had stitched days earlier.
She pressed both hands down.
“Stay with me.”
Victor’s eyes found hers.
“You charged me a hundred dollars last time.”
Clara was crying now.
“This one’s going to cost you.”
“How much?”
“Everything.”
His mouth moved faintly.
“Already yours.”
Then his eyes closed.
May you like
Clara screamed for an operating room.
And two years after believing she had lost the right to call herself a surgeon, Dr. Clara Hayes put on sterile gloves again.
