Chapter 3 - TWENTY-FOUR CARTONS WERE MISSING
Anil nearly died before he could explain what he had seen.
For forty minutes, I forgot Raphael Veseri existed.
That is what emergency medicine does.
It reduces the world to the body in front of you.
Blood pressure.
Breathing.
Kidneys.
Pain.
Time.
By midnight, Anil was stable.
Barely.
Pike ordered him moved to the protected recovery section.
I found Raphael awake when I returned.
He had apparently decided sleep was beneath him.
His phone lay on his chest.
“You should be resting.”
“So should you.”
“I’m working.”
“So am I.”
“You’re lying in a cot.”
“I have talented employees.”
“That explains organized crime.”
One of his security men coughed to hide a laugh.
Raphael gave him a look.
Silence.
I almost smiled.
Then Raphael held out the phone.
“I traced the shipment.”
My humor disappeared.
“And?”
“The antibiotics left Delhi intact.”
“How do you know?”
“Weight scans.”
“Could those be falsified?”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“They crossed into Nepal on a contracted convoy.”
“Your convoy?”
“My company.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“There is a significant difference between my company and every person who abuses its name.”
I remembered who I was speaking to.
“You're worried about the medicine being stolen under your company logo?”
“I’m worried about earthquake victims dying because someone stole medicine.”
I studied him.
Raphael met my gaze without blinking.
“You expected another answer.”
“I haven't decided what I expect from you.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Expectations make people careless.”
I pulled a folding chair closer.
“How many trucks?”
“Four.”
“Anil said third truck.”
“Yes.”
Raphael opened a manifest.
“Truck one arrived here.”
“Empty.”
“Truck two was recorded at another aid station thirty kilometers east.”
“Medication?”
“Unknown.”
“Truck three?”
“No arrival record.”
I leaned forward.
“And truck four?”
“Destroyed in a landslide.”
Too convenient.
“Who controlled the route?”
Raphael hesitated.
That told me the answer mattered.
“Regional operations.”
“Name.”
“Tessa.”
“Name.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then:
“Luca Orsini.”
“Who is he?”
“My director of South Asian logistics.”
“And?”
A pause.
“My godbrother.”
There it was.
Personal.
Messy.
Dangerous.
“You trust him?”
“I did yesterday.”
“And today?”
Raphael looked toward the empty medical crate.
“Today is different.”
The next morning, Mercer intercepted me outside breakfast.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
He handed me coffee.
“Pike wants you.”
“About the review?”
“No.”
His face had changed.
“What?”
“Your patient disappeared.”
I stopped walking.
“Raphael?”
“Not that patient.”
My stomach dropped.
“Anil?”
Mercer nodded.
I ran.
The recovery cot was empty.
Blanket folded back.
IV line cut.
No blood.
No struggle.
Just absence.
I turned to the night medic.
“When?”
“I checked him at 0420.”
“And?”
“Sleeping.”
“When was he discovered missing?”
“0445.”
Twenty-five minutes.
Mercer examined the floor.
“No one signed him out.”
“Was security outside?”
“Yes.”
“Then how—”
The medic pointed toward the rear service flap.
Cut fabric.
Someone had sliced through the tent.
Pike arrived.
His face went gray.
“This cannot be happening.”
Raphael’s security men appeared seconds later.
Then Raphael himself.
Walking.
Badly.
I stared at him.
“I told you—”
“Later.”
For once, I let it go.
He looked at the cot.
“Someone took him.”
Mercer crossed his arms.
“You seem confident.”
“Men who run voluntarily take shoes.”
We looked down.
Anil’s shoes remained beneath the cot.
Raphael turned to his security chief, Dante Rios.
“Seal our vehicles.”
Dante nodded.
Mercer blocked him.
“You do not seal anything in a military relief compound.”
The temperature changed instantly.
Dante was bigger than Mercer.
Mercer did not care.
Raphael spoke quietly.
“My people will cooperate.”
Mercer looked at him.
“Your people will do what I tell them while inside this perimeter.”
Raphael’s face became unreadable.
Then he nodded once.
“Agreed.”
That surprised everyone.
Especially Dante.
We searched for twenty minutes.
No Anil.
Then a local driver approached.
He looked terrified.
“I saw ambulance.”
“What ambulance?” I asked.
“White van. Aid symbol.”
“When?”
“Before sunrise.”
“Direction?”
He pointed toward the abandoned highway north.
Mercer reached for the radio.
Pike grabbed my arm.
“You're staying here.”
“Aaron.”
“No.”
“Anil is my patient.”
“He is now a security matter.”
“He may not survive transport.”
“Then whoever took him made that choice.”
Raphael’s voice came from behind us.
“No.”
We turned.
He was staring at his phone.
“What?”
Raphael showed me a message.
No sender identification.
Just a photograph.
Anil.
Alive.
Tied to a chair.
Beside him sat one of the missing antibiotic cartons.
Under the photo:
THE NURSE STOPS LOOKING OR THE WITNESS STOPS BREATHING.
My skin went cold.
Mercer read it.
“Why did they send that to you?”
Raphael looked at me.
“Because they know she saved me.”
Pike swore.
I stared at the image.
Anil had blood at his temple.
But his eyes were open.
Behind the chair, partly visible, was a blue-painted wall.
And something else.
A yellow relief organization symbol.
I knew that symbol.
“Zoom in.”
Raphael did.
I pointed.
“That’s not random.”
Mercer leaned closer.
“What?”
“Old logistics warehouse markings.”
I had seen them on route maps.
“There’s an abandoned UN storage facility near Banepa.”
Mercer was already calling it in.
Raphael lowered the phone.
“You're not going.”
I looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“They threatened you.”
“They threatened my patient.”
“That is exactly why you are not going.”
I stepped closer.
“You don't give me orders.”
His jaw tightened.
“Then consider it intelligent advice.”
“I've already survived one piece of your intelligent advice.”
“You mean when I told you to leave the collapsing building?”
“Yes.”
“That advice remains excellent.”
Mercer came back.
“Local security is mobilizing.”
I grabbed my trauma bag.
Pike blocked me.
“No.”
“Aaron.”
“You are under conduct review.”
“Then add a paragraph.”
His nostrils flared.
“Tessa—”
“If they recover Anil alive and he crashes before transport, I’m the person most familiar with his condition.”
Pike hated that I was right.
He looked at Mercer.
Mercer looked at me.
“I hate both of you.”
Ten minutes later I was in the back of a military vehicle heading north.
Raphael was not with us.
I assumed he had finally listened.
I should have known better.
When we reached the abandoned warehouse, a black SUV was already parked behind the ruined loading dock.
Raphael leaned against it.
Still pale.
Still injured.
Still wearing the same black shirt.
I climbed out.
“What are you doing here?”
His expression barely changed.
“Taking intelligent advice.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
May you like
Then gunfire cracked from inside the warehouse.
And every argument ended.
