Chapter 8 - The Surgeon Who Lied|
Adrian Voss lived behind high iron gates in a quiet neighborhood far removed from the Lombardi mansion.
Salvatore wanted to bring six guards. I told him that arriving with an armed escort would guarantee Voss refused to speak.
So we went with Rocco and one additional security officer, both waiting outside.
Voss answered the door himself.
He was in his late sixties, with silver hair, immaculate clothes, and the polished smile of a man accustomed to making people believe whatever he wanted.
When he saw Salvatore, the smile faltered.
“Mr. Lombardi. This is unexpected.”
“You treated me eight years ago.”
“I treated many patients.”
“You documented a metal fragment near my jaw, then claimed it had been removed without recording a procedure.”
Voss glanced at me.
“And you are?”
“Dr. Lena Russo. I'm the dentist who removed the fragment.”
His face lost its color.
Only for a second—but I saw it.
He invited us into a study lined with medical journals and framed certificates. Salvatore remained standing.
“I want to know why the records were altered,” he said.
Voss folded his hands.
“Your injuries were severe. There was confusion. It was an unfortunate administrative error.”
“Did you remove the metal?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Voss's eyes flicked toward the hallway.
“I can't discuss confidential medical matters.”
“I am the patient.”
“Eight years ago, you were in no condition to authorize anything.”
“Then someone acted on my behalf. Who?”
Voss said nothing.
I placed the old discharge notes on the table.
“The object was recorded in your care. There is no removal record, no specimen log, and no explanation for the missing evidence. That is not an ordinary administrative error.”
Voss stood abruptly.
“You have no idea what you're involving yourself in.”
“Then enlighten me.”
His expression hardened.
“Your father should have kept his mouth shut.”
The words hit me like a slap.
Salvatore took one step forward.
“What did you say?”
Voss realized his mistake. He reached for the papers, but I pulled them away.
“You knew my father.”
“I knew of him.”
“Why?”
“Because he was a civilian who got involved in something he couldn't understand.”
“Did he treat Isabella?”
Voss's face tightened.
“You need to leave.”
Salvatore leaned over the desk.
“Not until you answer.”
For the first time, Voss looked afraid.
“I didn't shoot you,” he said.
No one had accused him of firing the weapon.
The room fell silent.
Salvatore's voice dropped.
“Who did?”
Voss backed away.
“I don't know.”
“Then why did you mention it?”
“Because your brother told me the shooter was dead.”
Salvatore's jaw tightened.
“Which brother?”
Voss closed his eyes.
“Carmine.”
The confession came out in a whisper.
“He brought Isabella to the hospital. She was alive, but she knew who had arranged the ambush. She said the attack was meant to kill you and destroy the shipment records. Your brother told me to alter the medical report and say the fragment had been removed.”
“Why?”
“Because the metal came from a device used to sabotage the vehicle. It wasn't ordinary shrapnel. It was part of a specialized trigger mechanism.”
I felt cold.
“Can a fragment like that identify who built it?”
“Not by itself. But the original device had a serial number. If the fragment matched the design, it might connect the attack to the person who supplied it.”
“Where is the device?” Salvatore asked.
Voss shook his head.
“Carmine said it had been destroyed.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Voss looked directly at me.
“Because your father came to see me two days later. He told me he had the original component.”
My pulse hammered.
“Where is it now?”
“I don't know. Your father never told me.”
Salvatore's expression darkened.
“Then we find it.”
Voss suddenly rushed toward a cabinet and pulled out a small envelope.
“Take this. It's all I kept.”
Inside was a photograph of the damaged device and a handwritten inventory number.
At the bottom was a signature.
Carmine Lombardi.
Before Salvatore could speak, the lights went out.
Glass shattered in the next room.
Someone screamed.
May you like
And Voss whispered in the darkness:
“They've come to finish what they started eight years ago.”
