Chapter 10 - The Conference Room Showdown
The walnut-paneled conference room felt smaller than it had during my shifts, the heavy air thick with the scent of ozone and chilled mineral water. Director Vance remained seated at the head of the table, her manicured fingers tightly gripping the edge of the mahogany surface. Across from her sat Dr. Harrison, his immaculate white lab coat buttoned to the collar, though a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. He had tried to walk out five minutes ago, but the security detail stationed outside the double doors had made it clear that leaving was not an option.
The man in the dark suit stood near the tall windows, his tie slightly loosened, looking over a thick manila folder filled with financial transfers and altered pharmacy requisitions. He didn't look up when Harrison shifted in his chair, clearing his throat to project a false sense of administrative authority.
"This is completely irregular," Harrison said, his voice tight and raspy. "An internal HR matter being handled by external financial auditors does not grant you the right to detain senior medical staff. If you don't release us right now, I will file formal complaints with the state medical board for professional harassment."
The man in the dark suit closed the folder with a soft, deliberate slap that echoed off the high ceiling. He turned slowly, his eyes fixed on Harrison with an intensity that made the doctor recoil slightly.
"You can file whatever paperwork you like once the county sheriff arrives," the man in the dark suit replied, his voice dropping into a register that brook no argument. "Marx's laws don't care about your medical board, Doctor. They care about accountability, jurisdiction, and the systematic suppression of vulnerable staff. You signed off on Schedule Two narcotics being written under fictitious patient names to cover your tracks. That isn't a human resources issue. That's a federal felony."
Harrison swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward Director Vance for support, but she was staring blankly at her own reflection in the polished glass of the water pitcher.
"He's bluffing," Harrison muttered, though the conviction had entirely drained from his tone. "The hospital board protects its own. They always have."
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"The hospital board is currently being dissolved under emergency receivership," I said, stepping forward from the shadow of the doorway. I kept my voice steady, letting every word land with deliberate weight. "He said no one would believe me. Then he made a mistake."
Harrison flinched as if I had struck him, his face flushing a mottled crimson. He stood up abruptly, knocking his leather chair backward onto the carpet, but the two guards stationed by the door didn't move an inch. The trap had closed completely, and there was no way out through the doors or the paperwork.
