Chapter 6 - The Maverick Surgeon
“If Vance’s company built this device,” I said, standing tall despite the sheer exhaustion pulling at my muscles, “then someone else must have helped design it. Who was the lead medical engineer at Greenfield nine years ago?”
Miller flipped through the trial protocol sheets, his index finger stopping on a signature at the bottom of page forty-two.
“Dr. Elena Rostova,” Miller read aloud. “Former Chief of Bio-Mechanical Engineering at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She resigned her tenure eight years ago under mysterious circumstances.”
“Is she still alive?” I asked eagerly. “Is she still in Wisconsin?”
Miller pulled his encrypted field satellite phone from his belt, dialed his precinct dispatch, and spoke in low, hushed tones for three minutes. He listened, nodding, his mouth setting into a hard, grim line.
“She’s alive,” Miller said, hanging up. “She lives in a secluded cabin outside Baraboo, less than fifteen miles from here. After she left Greenfield, she filed three whistleblower complaints with the FDA regarding Nexagen, but every single report was buried by corporate injunctions. She’s been living off-grid ever since.”
Thirty minutes later, leaving David and Detective Miller to guard Ethan at the forestry station, Miller’s deputy drove me down a winding dirt trail deep into the pine forests of Baraboo.
The cabin was surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Solar panels covered the roof, and three large satellite dishes were angled toward the sky.
When I knocked on the heavy oak door, it opened three inches, held by a thick security chain.
A woman in her late fifties with sharp, piercing blue eyes and graying hair pulled into a tight bun peered out at me. In her hand, held steadily at her waist, was a sleek silver firearm.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice carrying a sharp Russian accent. “This is private property.”
“Dr. Rostova,” I said, holding my hands up where she could see them. “My name is Sarah Mitchell. My son is ten years old. His name is Ethan.”
The moment I uttered the name, Dr. Rostova’s eyes widened. The hand holding the firearm lowered slightly.
“Ethan Mitchell...” she whispered, her voice trembling with an emotion I didn't expect. “The boy from Madison... Subject 14.”
“He is dying, Dr. Rostova,” I sobbed, stepping closer to the crack in the door. “The capsule inside his lower abdomen is leaking. Victor Vance came to my house tonight. He told me if a surgeon touches it without a neutralizer, my boy will die in six seconds.”
The security chain unlatched with a loud metallic clatter.
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The door swung wide open. Dr. Rostova stood there, looking at me with a mix of profound shame and fierce determination.
“Vance lied to you, Mrs. Mitchell,” Dr. Rostova said, stepping aside to let me enter. “The neutralizer doesn't save the child. The neutralizer destroys the biological evidence inside the node so Nexagen can never be prosecuted for murder.”
