Chapter 7 - What Gideon Took
Sloan ran before anyone could stop her.
Out of the conference room.
Down the corridor.
Toward the elevator.
Cormack caught up before the doors closed.
“Toby is at Northwestern.”
“He was.”
“Sloan.”
She hit the lobby button repeatedly.
“My brother was guarded.”
“Then we confirm.”
“I called him ten minutes before the meeting.”
“Sloan.”
“He said he was ordering pancakes.”
Her voice cracked.
“He hates hospital pancakes.”
Cormack took her phone.
She tried to pull it back.
“Give me that.”
He dialed.
Fitz called security simultaneously.
The elevator descended.
Twenty-nine floors had never taken so long.
A hospital administrator answered.
Cormack’s expression changed.
Sloan knew before he spoke.
“No.”
Cormack ended the call.
“Sloan—”
“No.”
“Someone wearing a cardiology badge took him for imaging forty minutes ago.”
Sloan backed against the elevator wall.
“No.”
Cormack stepped closer.
She pushed him away.
“You said he was safe.”
“I know.”
“You said—”
“I know.”
Her fists struck his chest once.
Then again.
Cormack let her.
“You promised me.”
His voice was low.
“Yes.”
Her face collapsed.
“I trusted you.”
The elevator doors opened.
People outside froze when they saw them.
Cormack did not move.
Neither did Sloan.
Then Cormack said:
“You can hate me later.”
She looked at him through tears.
“But right now I need you thinking.”
It was cruel.
And exactly what she needed.
Sloan wiped her face.
The elevator doors started to close.
Cormack held them.
“Good.”
They walked.
Royce called fifteen minutes later.
His voice was weak.
“He’s taking Toby to the old Mercy cardiac annex.”
Sloan leaned toward the speaker.
“Royce?”
“I couldn’t stop them.”
“Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Silence.
Then:
“South Wabash.”
The call ended.
Fitz immediately dispatched two men.
Cormack looked at Sloan.
“Why the cardiac annex?”
She closed her eyes.
Think.
Why would Marsh take Toby somewhere connected to Mercy?
Not merely leverage.
Documentation.
Medical transfer.
A place where Toby’s death could appear legitimate.
She opened her eyes.
“He doesn’t want to hide Toby.”
Cormack frowned.
“He wants him to die on paper.”
The room went silent.
Sloan continued quickly.
“If Toby suffers a cardiac event inside a facility under Marsh Foundation control, they can create records showing complications from his condition.”
Cormack’s face became cold.
“And you?”
“He wants me there before it happens.”
“To force you to sign something.”
“Or retract my statement.”
Fitz looked up from his phone.
“We got an address.”
They moved.
The old Mercy annex sat behind an abandoned outpatient complex on the South Side.
Officially closed for renovation.
Unofficially, three lights burned on the second floor.
Cormack wanted Sloan in the vehicle.
She refused.
“No.”
“It isn’t safe.”
“My brother is inside.”
“That’s exactly why—”
“Cormack.”
He stopped.
Sloan looked at him.
“I spent six years letting powerful men decide what risks I was allowed to take.”
“This is different.”
“No. It isn’t.”
He stared at her.
She continued.
“You can protect me beside me.”
A pause.
“But not by putting me somewhere I didn’t choose.”
Cormack’s expression shifted.
That sentence reached somewhere deeper than argument.
Finally he nodded.
“Stay behind me.”
“Beside you.”
“Sloan.”
“Compromise.”
Despite everything, Fitz turned away to hide a smile.
They entered through a maintenance corridor.
No alarms.
No guards.
Too easy.
Cormack noticed.
“So does she,” Sloan whispered.
“What?”
“The trap.”
Cormack looked at her.
“You think he expects us.”
“I know he does.”
They reached the old cardiac floor.
At the end of the hallway stood Gideon Marsh.
Alone.
Toby sat in a wheelchair beside him.
Pale.
Conscious.
Sloan stepped forward.
“Toby.”
“I’m okay.”
Gideon rested a hand on the wheelchair.
Cormack immediately raised his weapon.
Gideon smiled.
“Always so dramatic.”
Sloan looked around.
“Where are the others?”
“Watching.”
Cormack scanned the ceiling.
Cameras.
Gideon noticed.
“This building still has excellent surveillance.”
Sloan understood.
He wanted Cormack recorded with a weapon.
A violent criminal invading a medical facility.
Gideon had built a story before they arrived.
Cormack slowly lowered the gun.
Gideon’s smile faded slightly.
Sloan stepped forward.
“What do you want?”
“A correction.”
He held up paperwork.
“You will state that the Riverline agreement was valid, that you notarized it, and that your accusations were caused by emotional distress.”
“No.”
Gideon touched Toby’s shoulder.
Cormack moved.
Sloan caught his arm.
“Don’t.”
Gideon watched them.
Interesting.
He had expected Cormack to act.
Sloan had interrupted the script.
She looked at the cameras.
Then at the papers.
“What happens if I sign?”
“Your brother receives immediate care.”
“He needs no immediate care.”
Gideon smiled.
“Not yet.”
Toby’s face changed.
Sloan realized someone had altered his medication.
Her fear became rage.
But she kept her voice steady.
“You’re recording this?”
Gideon said nothing.
“Good.”
She took the document.
Cormack looked at her sharply.
Sloan read the first page.
Then she laughed.
Gideon frowned.
“What?”
Sloan held it up.
“You made the same mistake again.”
His expression changed.
“What mistake?”
“You think a signature creates truth.”
She tore the document in half.
Gideon lunged toward her.
Cormack moved instantly.
But before either man reached Sloan, the hallway doors opened.
Federal agents entered from both ends.
Gideon froze.
Behind them walked Royce Nadau.
Alive.
Bruised.
Smiling faintly.
Royce lifted a phone.
“Excellent surveillance, Gideon.”
Marsh stared.
Royce continued.
“You installed the cameras.”
A federal agent held up a warrant.
“We seized the server twenty minutes ago.”
Everything Gideon had said had been recorded.
Threats.
Coercion.
Medical manipulation.
Toby’s abduction.
Gideon’s face finally lost its calm.
He turned toward Sloan.
“You insignificant little—”
“No.”
Sloan stepped between him and Toby.
“You were right about one thing.”
Gideon stared.
“My job was to write down what powerful men said.”
Her voice was steady.
“And you never understood how dangerous that made me.”
Agents took him.
Toby exhaled shakily.
Sloan ran to him.
She dropped beside the wheelchair.
He wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m sorry.”
She laughed through tears.
“For what?”
“I missed the pancakes.”
Sloan cried harder.
Cormack looked away.
Fitz approached quietly.
“You okay?”
Cormack watched Sloan hold her brother.
“No.”
Fitz waited.
Cormack said:
“I almost lost them.”
Them.
May you like
Fitz noticed.
He did not mention it.
