Disclaimer: See Part One.
Author's notes: More thanks for the great reviews. Special thanks to Tracey (you know why). Enjoy and remember, I survive on feedback!
VICTIMS
(PART EIGHT)
The people that Morton had recruited to help him carry out his scheme had done an excellent job. The hospital corridors were in chaos. All of security had been summoned urgently to the front desk, when one of his recruits had pulled a gun, another had broken into the pharmacy and someone had tampered with the equipment in the baby unit.
Most importantly of all, on Jesse's floor, two of his recruits were acting like drugs crazed teenagers, smashing equipment and terrorizing the staff. The security guard had had no choice but to leave his post.
Given the strength of their performances, Morton wondered if he'd actually paid them enough.
Whilst all this was happening, Morton had waited until Jesse lost consciousness, then wrapped him up in an oversized hooded robe, before settling him into a wheelchair.
Making sure that the hood fully concealed the young doctor's face, Morton quickly checked that the coast was clear, then wheeled him towards the elevator. It was ridiculously easy. There were sounds of the ongoing chaos in the distance and the few people that he saw were all rushing towards it. Nobody paid the slightest bit of notice to one porter, pushing a wheelchair.
*****
Mark was aware that something was amiss within the hospital, the tannoy system was driving him to distraction with its constant blaring. However, he successfully managed to shut the noise out and, with a nurse's assistance, gave Bethany a thorough check-up.
He was surprised and relieved to find nothing new wrong with her. The only drugs in her system were the ones that were supposed to be there and, in fact, she was as healthy as she had been since they'd first brought her in.
Thanking the nurse, Mark was about to pick Bethany up and put her back to bed, when the door burst open and Amanda dashed in, breathless and panic-stricken.
"Mark, thank God," she gasped. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"Amanda, calm down. What on Earth's the matter?"
"It's like everybody just went crazy." Amanda was gradually getting her breath back. "It all happened at once. Fights, break-ins. I don't know how you didn't hear it."
Mark looked down at Bethany. His worry for her had kept him completely absorbed.
"The police are on their way," the pathologist continued. "But then it all died down just as quickly as it had started. I was at the front desk and everybody just suddenly left. It was a distraction, Mark. Right down to keeping you here, busy with Bethany."
"Oh no," Mark breathed, as he realised what she was leading up to.
"I called the nurse's station upstairs, but got no answer, so I went up there. He's gone, Mark. Jesse's gone."
*****
Jesse's return to consciousness was agonisingly slow. At first, all he was aware of was a bitter cold, seeming to spread right through him. He knew that he was shivering and wanted to wrap his arms around himself, but he couldn't move. His arms were tied behind his back and his ankles bound together.
He tried to open his eyes, but they refused to co-operate and that strange heaviness still pervaded his limbs. He was aware that he was sitting upright, his back against a wall, but he had no other clue as to his surroundings. He certainly couldn't remember how he'd got to be where he was.
Somebody brushed against him and he flinched, but had nowhere to escape to. One of his eyelids was lifted and he caught a brief glimpse of a vaguely familiar face staring back at him, before it was dropped back down again. Then he heard the voice that he had grown to hate and fear.
"I think that's far enough," Morton said. "I don't want to have to worry about you getting too lively now."
Before he knew what was happening, Jesse felt his head being tilted back. Rough fingers forced his mouth open, then reached to the back of his throat. Jesse retched against the invasion but, just as quickly, those fingers were withdrawn and he swallowed reflexively. He felt the shape of the pills as they slid down his throat and a groan escaped him.
In spite of the fact that he was still shivering, Jesse could feel the sweat running down his face. How much had Morton given him, without him even being aware? More importantly, what exactly was it that had just been forced down his throat?
Suddenly, his stomach cramped violently and he fell onto his side. He wanted to vomit, to try and dispel at least some of the poison Morton had introduced into his body. But the world was beginning to fade again and, as another agonising spasm wracked through him, he didn't try to fight it.
*****
Amanda had just finished explaining to Mark everything that had happened when he was called to the phone. Uniformed police were already swarming the hospital and Steve was on his way. Mark had mentioned that Jesse was missing, but had so far said nothing about Philip Morton. To have cops suddenly storm the apartment building could very well endanger his young friend, assuming that was where Morton had taken him.
It was Mark's intention to let Steve handle that side of things, but as soon as he answered his phone call, he knew that he couldn't afford to wait for his son.
"Mark Sloan." He spoke brusquely, his mind filled with a thousand worries.
"Hello, Doctor Sloan." Mark instantly recognised Morton's voice and his hand clenched around the receiver.
"Where's Jesse? If you've hurt him..."
"You started this," Morton interrupted sharply. "All I asked for was a little forgiveness, a second chance. Surely everyone deserves that."
"After what you've done? You think that these terrorist tactics are going to get me to change my mind?" Mark was almost lost for words.
"Last chance, doc. Jesse really isn't looking too well."
"Let him go," Mark seethed. "If you just let him go now, we'll forget about this. I'll make sure he doesn't press charges."
"And the Medical Council?"
"You're too late. You always were and you'd have known that if you'd ever taken the time to talk to me. I made my report right after I fired you."
The silence that followed was so long that Mark started to wonder if the other man had hung up. Then there was a long sigh.
"I thought that might be the case," Morton said eventually.
"Then let Jesse go. You can still walk away from this. You don't have to go to prison. Please."
"I'm sorry, Mark. This will destroy me, do you know that?" There was another long pause and when Morton spoke again, his voice was filled with menace. "So I will destroy you. When Jesse dies, you will be responsible."
"No, please..."
"If you want to save his life, come to my apartment. Now and alone. Don't bring your son, don't bring the cops. Just you. I believe you know where I live."
"Alright," Mark agreed, knowing that he had no choice. Jesse's predicament really was his fault.
"Oh and Mark? I'd hurry if I were you. I think Jesse might have just stopped breathing.
*****
Morton looked back over to where Jesse lay. That last part, about him having stopped breathing, had been a lie. But he wanted Mark to panic, to not have time to think or, more importantly, plan ahead.
Now, Morton had only one more thing to do. Picking up a syringe off the table, he carefully filled it with liquid from a small vial, then crossed over to his young captive.
He prodded Jesse none too gently with his foot. Getting no response, he tried again, with a little more force. A frown creased Jesse's features and a groan escaped his lips.
Morton crouched next to him and hauled him back up until he was, once again, propped against the wall. He was facing the door and would be the first sight that greeted Mark when he entered.
"Come on, Jesse," Morton muttered, slapping the young doctor's face. "You don't want to miss your big moment."
Jesse's frown deepened and he tried to twist away from those slaps, but Morton's hands followed the movement. Eventually, his eyes cracked open. He stared blankly at Morton, before his eyes slowly wandered down to his captor's hand and the syringe that it held.
"No more," he whispered. "Please, no more."
"No, Jesse, this isn't for you." Morton placed the offending object out of Jesse's line of sight, but still within easy reach. "At least not if you co-operate."
"I won't help you to hurt Mark." Jesse tried to sound confident, even though he was clearly terrified by the prospect of being drugged again.
"You already have, Jesse. Even without knowing it, you already have."
*****
Mark drove as fast as he dared towards Morton's apartment, trying to concentrate on the road whilst explaining the situation to Steve over his cell phone.
"Dad, you mustn't go there alone," his son predictably argued.
"I have no choice, Steve. He's got Jesse and if I don't get there in time..."
"It's too dangerous. Listen, I'm not that far away. I can be there within half an hour."
"We don't have half an hour." Mark was almost at his destination. "Just meet me there. I have to do this, son. I won't let him hurt Jesse any more."
"Dad..."
"And Steve? Bring an ambulance with you." He pulled over outside the apartment and saw two youths lounging in the doorway. "And come quietly. We don't want to alarm him into doing something stupid."
"Dad!"
Mark put the phone down before Steve could argue any further and got out of the car. The youths straightened up as he approached them, blocking his way.
"Who are you?" The taller of the two demanded insolently.
"My name's Mark Sloan and I..."
"Okay, you can go in."
The two of them stepped aside to allow him entry, then moved back into position in the doorway.
Mark hurried up the stairs, his heart racing and his mouth dry. He'd got there as quickly as he could, but if Jesse had stopped breathing at the time of the phone call... Mark refused to let that thought reach a conclusion. He couldn't be too late, he just couldn't.
When he reached Morton's apartment, Mark tried the door, half-expecting it to be locked, but it swung open easily. He stepped in, then gasped in horror when he saw Jesse.
His young friend was tied up in a corner, dressed only in pyjama pants and a bathrobe. His face and chest were covered in sweat and Mark could see that a faint tremor was running through his entire body.
The shocking sight froze him for only the briefest moment, then he moved swiftly across the room. Jesse's eyes were half open, but he didn't once lift his gaze.
Then, as Mark neared an open doorway, intent only on reaching his friend, Philip Morton stepped out of it.
"Close enough, doc." Morton backed up until he was right next to Jesse, then crouched beside him.
Mark could clearly see the syringe in his hand. He took a hesitant step forward, but Morton pushed the tip of the needle against a vein in Jesse's neck. The stricken young doctor flinched and closed his eyes.
"What do you reckon, doc?" Morton was smiling nastily. "Is this gonna be the one that finally finishes him off? Do you wanna take that chance?"
"Let me help him, please." Mark held out a supplicating hand. "This has gone far enough."
"Not yet it hasn't. Almost, but not yet."
"What do you want from me?"
Morton straightened up, but was still too close to Jesse for Mark to risk trying anything.
"What do you think is in this doc? Go on, take a guess." He held the syringe up to the light, studying it thoughtfully. "Not that I'd tell you if you guessed right of course. That would spoil the fun."
"Just tell me what you want." Mark's gaze flicked back to Jesse's still form.
"I want you to make a choice," Morton answered. "Oh don't worry, it's an easy choice. One you won't really have to think about for more than, say, a second or two."
"What choice?" He spoke quietly, wondering how long they had been talking and how much longer it would take Steve to get there.
"Me or him, Mark." He gestured down towards Jesse. " Take your pick. Your friend or your enemy. See? I told you it was easy."
"What are you talking about?"
"Ethics, morals, doing the right thing. All of the reasons that you chose to ruin my career. Well, Doctor Sloan, now it's your turn. You are so high and mighty, talking about the Hippocratic Oath and the need to be true to it at all times. Well, I'm going to show you that it's not that easy."
Mark watched him silently, not understanding just what Morton expected of him. He needed to get to Jesse, but didn't dare move. He could only listen to the other man's rambling.
Then Morton surprised him again, straightening his arm and holding the syringe poised over the inside of his own elbow. His thumb settled on the plunger.
"If I inject myself with this, I will be dead within three minutes." Morton said, intensely. "You have the ability to save my life."
"You're insane."
"No, not insane. Just proving a point." The tip of the needle pierced his skin. "You won't help me. You'll go straight to your friend. Okay, so he's sick, but is he in imminent danger of dying? Would he last those few minutes that it would take you to save me?"
"If you choose to commit suicide..."
"Oh no, you don't get out of it that easily. I'm not committing suicide. I'm trusting you to save me. You are a doctor, after all. And isn't that your primary function? Saving lives?"
"Don't." Mark took another half-step forward, as Morton's thumb began to depress the plunger.
He looked at Jesse, worried by his pallor. Even as he watched, his young friend grimaced and gasped with pain. His eyes cracked open and he looked at Mark, as though unable to comprehend why he was not helping him.
"Mark..." he gasped and there was a plea in just that one word.
"Go to him," Morton spat, suddenly depressing the plunger all of the way in. "Help your friend. You hate me. Let me die."
"What was in the syringe?" Mark demanded, as Morton staggered against a wall.
"And when you find out that Jesse was going to be fine all along..." Morton ignored him. He was starting to get breathless. "That I'd died for nothing... when you could have... saved me... Then you'll realise... you betrayed your own... precious... oath."
Morton's knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. Mark rushed over and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were still open, though his face was twisted in pain.
"I hope... it drives you... insane," he muttered.
TO BE CONTINUED...