Page 6 of Booked for Theft (Vigilante Magical Librarians #3)

SIX

“Thank you, Janette. We’d lost hope.”

Senator Thaddens rested on the stainless steel table, and a sheet covered him from the waist down. Pen marks on his skin indicated where the surgeons would cut him open to take his organs so that others might live. The intubation process left his face mostly covered with a mask. Delaying wouldn’t help anything, so I donned a surgical mask, snapped on a pair of gloves, and regretted I lacked a set of scrubs.

I would throw the entire outfit out—or lock it away in my closet until the encroaching grief settled to something a little more manageable.

I’d seen more than a few bodies before, but had time been kinder to us, and things gone a little differently, I believed I might have become friends with the politician.

Once in my protective gear, I stepped to his side, took his limp hand in mine, and concentrated.

Dr. Won and Dr. Pilsir followed me, and they waited in patient silence.

I checked for diabetes first, finding no trace of it. After that, I went over my complete list of diseases I could detect in his blood, finding nothing. “He has no diseases, there are no medicinal residues in his blood, and when it comes to the basic fluids in his body, he is healthy.” I took a few extra moments to check the fluids in his brain and spinal column. “If you require cerebral fluids for any reason, his are sound.”

“That’s something that would have taken us a great deal longer to determine,” Dr. Won admitted.

While bittersweet, I accepted the compliment for what it was. Perhaps later, once the sting of death eased, I would allow myself to be proud of my accomplishments. Sighing, I turned my concentration to his heart, numerous oddities with his heart, both outside of it and within it. My brows furrowed. “May I do an exploratory incision?”

“Of course.” Dr. Pilsir picked up a scalpel. “Where would you like the cut?”

I pointed at a spot near his heart, close enough I wouldn’t have to work hard to pull out anything I removed. “I will also need a sterile dish or container.”

“What did you find?” Dr. Won asked, and he accepted a dish from one of the nurses and came closer, ready to gather the sample I intended to draw out of the dying man.

“I’m not sure, but there’s definitely something amiss with his heart. There seems to be additional thickness and formations outside and inside of it. I will scrape a sample from his heart and pull it out through his blood.” I closed my eyes and checked the organ again, and it didn’t take me long to determine he would need a heart transplant to continue to live without the help of machines.

Something made the muscle struggle to beat, and I couldn’t tell precisely what.

I opened my eyes, waiting for Dr. Pilsir to sterilize the senator’s skin and make the cut. Once blood flowed, I went to work, scraping away at one of the odd spots, which appeared to be fused to the heart but not quite the same tissue, until some tore away from the muscle and came free into the bloodstream. I guided it to the incision, forcing it out and using his blood to deposit it into the dish. I removed everything except the contamination, being left with an oddly creamy substance. “This was attached to the interior and exterior of his heart. I didn’t see anything like this elsewhere.”

Dr. Won sucked in a breath. “I’ll be damned.”

I stared at him with wide eyes. “What is it?”

“Unless I’m way off my mark, that looks like the start of a malignant primary cardiac tumor. You said it was on the outside and inside of his heart but nowhere else?”

I nodded. “Wouldn’t your scans pick this up?”

“We could have misread the scans as scarring rather than the start of tumors. That the tumors are in numerous places indicates malignant. Primary cardiac indicates the tumor originated in the heart rather than spreading to the heart from elsewhere. Reading the scans is as much of an art as it is a science—and we were looking for heart attack scarring rather than tumors, malignant or otherwise. But if the start of the tumors are taking the shape of heart attack scarring, we would miss it at first,” Dr. Pilsir informed me, and he lifted the petri dish for a closer look. “How much more of this can you peel off his heart for us? I would need a larger sample to send to the lab.”

“I can take as much as you want when it’s time to start the operation. He would need a heart transplant to survive. As it is, his heart is struggling to beat. I think the scar tissue—or tumor, if that’s what it is—is restricting his heartbeat.” I wrinkled my nose and regretted my lack of traditional medical training. “That’s what it feels like.”

“It’s a sound guess, and I think you’re right. This looks like tumor material. Can you check if this has spread beyond his heart?”

I did as asked, using the senator’s blood as my method of detecting more of the odd scarring. After a few minutes, I shook his head. “His other organs are clear, and I am not sensing any of this stuff anywhere else in his body.”

“If it isn’t anywhere else, we’ll just remove the heart first and make certain the tumors can’t infect the other organs.” Dr. Pilsir sighed. “We did a basic scan checking for cancers during intake, and if you don’t detect any, we’ll move forward with the transplants. It might not be malignant, and it could be one widespread benign tumor of the heart. Most heart tumors don’t tend to be malignant, but the fact it’s outside and inside the heart leads me to suspect it’s probably the early stages of a malignant cancer. We’ll know soon enough, as we’ll send the entire organ to the lab for analysis.”

“He wouldn’t have had any idea he had this, right?”

“Right,” Dr. Won confirmed. “It was early enough we mistook it as scar tissue on the initial scans. We made mistakes in the reading, but the end result is the same.”

It was. “His heart is struggling, and I can’t fix it. It’s not like cholesterol.” I frowned. “Well, it’s not really like cholesterol. I can cut through the tumor and tell the difference in the proper muscle and the bad tissue. But I can’t do so safely . I’m essentially turning his blood into a knife, which I’m using to slice the sample I want.” I regarded the man’s face, grateful he wasn’t aware of anything around us. “His brain is mostly dead, isn’t it?”

Dr. Won nodded. “His brain activity was in decline upon arrival, and it’s only gotten worse. He had minimal brain activity when we put him on life support. Once we start the transplant process, brain death will happen rather rapidly. We’ll be on a timer to get these organs into the recipients. Some of them are dying, and every minute matters. But in good news, all of the recipients are here, the surgeons are on hand, and we’ll be able to work together to get the organs across the hall to where they do our patients the most good. Normally, it’s even more of a race against time. Of the organs we will be transplanting, the lungs normally have the shortest timer. With you here, we won’t be worried about that timer. You can keep the lungs viable. The problem is our recipient, who is already on death watch and could die at any minute.”

In some ways, I wished the prejudices of others hadn’t barred me from becoming a nurse. How many more lives could I have saved?

Then the bitter reality settled in onto my shoulders.

My current path had the potential to improve—and save—even more lives.

“I’m ready. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I will give you my best.”

Ten hours after Dr. Won made the first incision and ended Senator Thaddens’s failing life, we made it through the gauntlet of transplants, cholesterol treatments for those at high risk of imminent heart attack, and evaluations for those with tricky blood disorders who needed my help to identify their illness or help them conquer it. I wanted to cry, doubted I would ever feel clean again, and wore more blood and other fluids than I cared to think about.

Two of the procedures had gone sideways on us, although all patients had emerged with their lives and their health improved. We’d just undergone an unexpected transfer of fluids.

Even the medical staff, who I learned provided their own scrubs and was given a stipend from the hospital for their apparel, had gotten messier than normal as a result of the conversation.

Someone, upon realizing I wore more than one patient, had acquired a change of clothes for me; the hospital kept unisex sweats around in case they had a patient in need of something to wear and a hospital gown wasn’t appropriate.

At one point, in an effort to spare my clothing, a doctor had chucked a spare coat my way, but it had shared the same fate as the rest of my attire.

Making use of a staff shower helped keep the tears at bay.

Then, as I held responsibility for making the final call regarding Senator Thaddens’s odds of survival, I volunteered to go into the waiting room to deliver the news to the family and friends of those waiting for word. Emma sat a few chairs down from President Castillo, and I wandered her way, too tired to keep from limping. I sat beside her, stretched out my legs, and sighed.

“Was it a heart attack?” she asked before I had a chance to figure out what to say.

“Yes and no. It was a heart attack, but the heart attack was caused by the early stages of a rare form of heart cancer. The initial scans detected the cancer as scarring. There was nothing I could do to help him, and he would have needed a heart transplant to have any hope of survival. I’m sorry, Emma.”

“I am, too. He was a good man.”

That he had been. “Yes.” I turned my gaze to President Castillo, who watched me with solemn interest. “All transplant recipients are in stable condition and are expected to make a full recovery. None of the organs were rejected, and there were no complications during any of the procedures.” Dr. Pilsir had coached me on what to say, and I appreciated that I could avoid thinking for a while. “Due to the immunosuppressants all the patients will need to take to keep the risk of organ rejection low, visitation will be barred for the next few days. However, the hospital staff will be able to answer all your questions.”

“For Nathan, what do you expect a full recovery will be, do you know?” President Castillo asked.

Dr. Pilsir had anticipated that question, too, and he’d smiled upon giving me the young man’s prognosis. “Just that, Mr. President. He’ll make a full recovery, and after physical therapy, he will be able to lead a normal life. He should not suffer from the same problems with his lungs moving forward, although he will be monitored just to be safe.” Aware if I sat too long I would refuse to get up, I lurched to my feet. “While you are welcome to wait, it’s going to be at least a day before they even consider allowing anyone to visit.”

In good news, my purse had made it unscathed, and I dug out my phone, turned it back on, and sighed at the absurd number of texts waiting for me. In good news, I hadn’t missed many calls, and of the five of them, one had been from Bradley. I didn’t recognize the other numbers, so I assumed they were either politicians hoping to leave a donation or scam callers. I checked Bradley’s texts first to discover he was downstairs waiting for me.

“Thank you, Janette. We’d lost hope. We had the money for the operation, but there weren’t any lungs available.”

I nodded. “It’s hard to get organs, and many patients die before someone compatible shows up. Your nephew was very lucky. Their lungs were the same size, and they matched in all the important elements for the transplant to work. And thank you, Emma. Your quick decision saved a lot of lives today.”

“The doctors were pretty clear about it after the first hour,” Senator Thaddens’s wife replied in a tired, quiet voice. “Even if his heart survived, there was a high probability he wouldn’t wake up. I guess something about the way the heart attack hit damaged his brain.”

I nodded. “Still, his selflessness saved numerous lives today, as did yours. That doesn’t change anything for you, I know. But maybe it’ll help a little knowing.”

“Knowing always helps. But he had cancer?”

“It was early, and it was missed on the scans because of how it was forming,” I confirmed. “There really wasn’t anything anyone could have done about it.”

“Thank you, Janette.”

“You’re welcome. Give me a call if you want to chat.”

“I will,” she promised.

I nodded, turned my attention to the President of the United States, and said, “Mr. President.”

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“That’s a good question. Bradley’s downstairs waiting, so we’ll figure it out shortly, I’m sure.”

“Give me a few minutes,” he requested.

“Sure.” While I waited, I texted Bradley with a warning I would be coming downstairs with some company. As it had been a long day, I opted against informing him who kept me company. He would find out soon enough.

Maybe getting sideswiped by the figurehead of the government we fought to change would help give him some perspective.

President Castillo went to a small group of people, who I assumed were members of his family, and spent a few minutes talking with them. Once done, we headed to the elevators with a pair of his Secret Service agents accompanying us. He waited until we were inside and headed for the lobby to say, “Thank you, Janette. I don’t know if he’d still be alive right now without your help.”

As I agreed with him, and after having spent several hours fighting for the young man’s life during a touchy operation and coping with oxygen-starved organs, I wasn’t going to downplay how close of a call it had been. “You’re welcome. And yes, I’m glad I came, because his blood oxygen levels were bordering on no longer compatible with life. I was able to get his blood oxygen levels up before they started the transplant, which really helped. Even better, the hospital’s sole exsanguinator was able to come in and learn the trick of it. She has just a high enough aptitude to realistically be capable of it, although she has to work a lot harder to make it happen. But one day, with some practice, she’ll be the difference between life and death.”

“How many patients did you help treat today?”

I frowned, struggling to remember precisely how many different operating rooms I had flitted through. “You know, I can’t really remember. After the first three transplants, it became a bit of a blur.” I winced at the memory of the car crash victim. “The one was unpleasant, but I was able to help her—and my accident and recovery provides a lot of good knowledge for her medical team to use. Her injuries are a lot like mine. Unlike me, she won’t have to worry about if they’ll do amputations. They have a much better idea of how to piece her back together again.”

Even better, she wouldn’t struggle for years fighting a battle she had no hope of winning alone.

The surgeons at the hospital had already done the touchy, painful part of the procedures while she’d been in a comatose state.

She would walk again, and she would start her rehab journey in a wheelchair, the same way I had done. Her adopted spleen would also receive better care and monitoring than mine.

Things had changed, and for her, it had been for the better.

“That must have been difficult for you.”

“For the first few minutes, it was,” I confessed. “But she needed me to make sure she had a better chance of recovery, so I did what was needed. I’m sure I’ll be talking with a therapist about it, though. But I didn’t have any panic attacks, and that’s the best I could hope for at this stage. It was a concern—and we’d discussed the possibility before going into the operation room.”

The elevator opened to the lobby, and I spotted Bradley waiting nearby. I waved at him, forced myself to grin, and said, “Bradley, this is President Castillo. Mr. President, this is my fiancé, Bradley Hampton.”

The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. I admired Bradley’s ability to appear as though nothing was wrong in his world. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. President.”

“You are a very lucky man, Mr. Hampton. May I call you Bradley?”

“Please do. I am. Thank you for providing a helicopter to get her here. I’m certain she would have taken my car from the garage and broken land speed records to get here otherwise.”

The President of the United States grinned at Bradley’s quip. “I could see her doing just that. Have you gotten a hotel yet for the night?”

“Not yet. I wasn’t sure when Janette would be finished her work.”

“Please, come with me to the White House and stay there. You’ve certainly earned a rest. Do you have any particular requests for dinner?”

“That’s really kind of you, Mr. President, thank you. I’ll eat anything, and you’ll make Janette’s day if you can find something spicy enough to make her cry. It’s a challenge. I’ve been trying ever since I brought her home from California, and I only succeeded once.”

President Castillo laughed. “I heard rumor you like spicy food, Janette. I hope the chef can reduce you to gasping and tears.”

“That would be amazing,” I replied, and I managed a smile despite wanting to cry for numerous reasons. “Thank you.”

The President of the United States turned to his agents and said, “Bring one of the SUVs around. There’s no point in blocking the hospital entrances with a limousine when an SUV will do. If Janette wanted to do something to me, she would have by now.”

The agent acknowledged him, stepped aside, and went to work.

President Castillo gestured towards the hospital’s entrance. “Let’s get some fresh air. It’s not my first stint in the waiting room waiting for news, but it’s the first time I’m getting to leave with truly good news.”

That I could believe. “I’ve only met Senator Thaddens once, but I think he’d be thrilled knowing his death gave numerous people a chance for a better and longer life.”

“He would. Organ donation and transplants has been one of his charitable causes for many a year, and he’s paid the flight and transplant fees for numerous patients. He’s been pushing for better general care for everyone, and I think I will be working to promote some of his causes moving forward. It’s not much, but I can thank him and his wife that way.”

If I hadn’t been aware of the government’s duplicity, I might have fallen for the man’s pretty words. However, as I would do my best to live up to Senator Thaddens’s hopes and expectations, I smiled and did my best to pretend I believed every sweet word. “That’s wonderful of you, Mr. President. I’ll admit, I’m shocked. Just yesterday, he seemed all right. But his condition isn’t something I could have detected with my magic even if I had actively scanned him, which I hadn’t. I only scan people with their consent, of course.”

“Of course. That’s a comfort to know, however. There truly wasn’t anything anyone could do?”

I nodded. “There was truly nothing anyone could have done without a heart transplant. The tumors were manifesting much like scars, constricting his heart from the outside and impeding blood flow from the inside. It’s not much, but I’ll be able to sleep tonight knowing it wasn’t my fault. Even if he’d had the heart attack right next to me, I wouldn’t have been able to save him.” The reality eased the sting of failure a little. “At most, I would have been able to better preserve his brain and prevent some of the damage he endured, but the CPR kept his other organs oxygenated sufficiently for transplant. I could have done a better job, and I would have been able to tell the surgeons what was around his heart, but it wouldn’t have changed anything in the grand scheme. He still would have died, and his organs would have been in comparable condition.”

Both primary surgeons had convinced me of that much, as had the surgeons handling the other transplants. “His misfortune became miracles for others,” I added.

“You’re right. I just wish Nathan’s life hadn’t come at the cost of Spencer’s.”

I nodded. “I feel much the same way about what happened with Senator Maybelle. If I could have saved her, I would have.”

“But you couldn’t, so you did the best you could under the circumstances. Honestly, I feel it is shameful that some members of her family have taken to harassing you with the media. The freedom of the press means there’s nothing I can do to stop it beyond make a public comment in your favor.”

Interesting. I smiled for the man’s benefit before saying, “I appreciate that, Mr. President. I can handle a grieving family member saying bad things about me to the media, but I truly do appreciate your kind words. I truly do understand their perspective. I could save the others, so why not Senator Maybelle? And I can do a lot in an operating room or ER, but I can’t stop death, not from a bullet to the brain. Now, I could stop death, possibly, from a bullet to the heart, but I would need to be touching the person at the time of the injury and take over full control of their circulatory and respiratory systems to do it. That’s a challenge even for me. I don’t know if I could keep them holding on long enough for a mender to begin repairing the damage. I’ve handled torn aortas and gunshot wounds before, and it’s difficult.”

“I’ve read over some of the files of cases you’ve worked on. One of my last acts as President of the United States will be working to establish a mentorship program for exsanguinators in a hospital setting, allowing hospitals to legally and easily acquire help from those with your abilities. You would be able to step into any ER in the United States and be available to assist at your whim. The hours would count for your service as well—and the bill will make it so insurance companies cannot refuse treatment for anyone who received volunteer medical aid from an exsanguinator.” President Castillo’s smile turned rather predatory. “After what those companies have done to my nephew, I will enjoy spending the remainder of my presidency making them pay—and protecting others from dealing with the same anguish.”

I hated that I could find common ground with a man I viewed as a monster, but I appreciated that even he had limits to how far greed should go. “Might I recommend a program, operated through the public libraries, to educate people on how best to get medical care? If you can introduce the loopholes to force the insurance companies to provide mandatory care, I am sure librarians around the country would love helping the public educate themselves on the presence of the loopholes.”

“You know what, Janette? I think I’ll take that idea and run with it. Until my nephew needed new lungs to survive, I had not realized how corrupted the insurance companies were—and how much profit they make from the suffering of others. If you could have changed anything about your access to care before your engagement, what would it have been?”

“I would have truly appreciated access to medications and painkillers. I didn’t qualify for many treatments, and those medications might have made a big difference,” I admitted, taking care to keep from meeting Bradley’s gaze.

One day, we would fully overcome all the consequences of the crash, a little at a time.

“She couldn’t get anything other than basic painkillers,” Bradley added when I failed to elaborate on my past situation. “She was barred from the better antibiotics. The only reason she’d gotten any care whatsoever on her foot is because her doctor took her on as a charity case. I’ve since made certain Dr. Mansfield was compensated for the cost of Janette’s care. Working to make certain nobody else has to suffer like that needlessly would be an excellent cause.”

“Indeed.” President Castillo led us to the sidewalk, where several Secret Service agents loitered. Several police cars, with lights on but sirens off, cleared a spot outside of the entrance.

Had it been the emergency entrance, I would have freaked out, but as we were only blocking the general entrance, I reined in my urge to criticize. Before I could become truly agitated over the issue, a black SUV pulled up, and the Secret Service agents went to work opening doors for us.

“Take the front seat, Janette,” President Castillo suggested. “That has more space. You were limping a bit. Do you need any painkillers?”

“It’s nothing ibuprofen can’t fix, and I’ll take a pair once we’re at the White House.” I held up my purse, which did include a small stash of the anti-inflammatories, kept at Dr. Mansfield’s recommendation. After climbing inside and buckling my seat belt, I stretched out my legs with a groan. “This was a good reminder that I need to work at being on my feet for longer periods of time. Bradley, stop making me sit down all the time. I am going to pay for this tomorrow.”

“I refuse,” my fiancé replied. “I will encourage you to adhere to Dr. Mansfield’s plan for rehabilitation of your foot, and that means no more than four hours of walking and standing at any given time except during a legitimate emergency. And on days following legitimate emergencies, you’re to walk and stand for no more than one hour at a time, take your ibuprofen, and relax while monitoring the swelling. And if it swells, we will pay the nice doctors and nurses here a visit. After I got here, I got to talk to one of their foot doctors for a while just in case you need a treatment while we’re here. I booked you for a visit tomorrow afternoon.”

Damn. “What time? I’ll add it to my phone.”

“Three. We’ll meet the doctor at this entrance to spare you from trying to navigate this maze.”

President Castillo chuckled. “It’s excellent to personally see how proactive you are about her care. Still, I do apologize for the lack of warning.”

“Emergencies happen,” Bradley replied. “Janette was needed here, and I headed over as soon as I finished handling everything at home. Ajani is with your parents until we’re back, by the way. Our mothers wrestled for the right to have your cat, and yours won.”

I snickered, as our parents had taken to engaging in the oddest sports competitions to determine who would get my fluffy goddess when I couldn’t watch over her. “I guess that means we’ll be riding when we get back.”

“You would be correct. Your mother’s willing to host the engagement party planning before we go on our shopping expedition, and our mothers are already working on the guest list and invitations.”

I sat up in my seat and twisted around to glare at Bradley. “You’re stealing my thunder, sir!”

“No, ma’am, I’m stealing your cat and your horse and your goats. You can keep your thunder.” He smirked, and then he raised a brow in challenge. “If you want your cat, your horse, and your goats back, you’re just going to have to do what I want, which involves heading back to New York early on Saturday morning. We can spend tomorrow doing tourism here before your checkup. I might have already made a dinner reservation for us.”

I realized I had left Bradley unattended for numerous hours. When left unattended, he indulged in excess. “Isn’t it only Wednesday?”

“For a little while longer,” he confirmed.

“What are we doing Friday?”

“I have made plans.”

“Bradley!”

President Castillo laughed. “Will staying at the White House interrupt your plans?”

“As long as I have a place to park our car, it won’t interrupt any of my plans. Not having to worry about finding a hotel is appreciated, though. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do. Yesterday, we were anticipating Nathan’s funeral. Today, we’re looking forward to the rest of his life. That is a debt my family can never repay. Providing you with dinner and settling you in a guest room is truly the least I can do. And Janette, I’ll contact your employer myself before dinner and apologize for delaying you here.”

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem, but I appreciate that. Mr. Tawnlen might give me a token lecture about skipping out of work, but he’ll do it because he enjoys having intellectual company willing to argue with him.”

“Ah. I have a few people I’m like that with. It’s relieving to be able to do such things from time to time.”

“It is, and when we’re having a rough day at the library, it’s a safe way for both of us to vent some steam.”

“I’d love to hear some stories about your library tonight over dinner.”

“Easily done, and I think I’ll start with when I adopted a half-dead kitten and took her to a job interview.”