Chapter 9: Inside the Black Market Clinic
The dimly lit room reeked of antiseptic and fear. Francis, dressed in worn-out clothes and sporting a disheveled look, lay on a gurney, his face pale and gaunt. The low hum of medical machines filled the air as he shifted uncomfortably, awaiting the next phase of their dangerous mission. Across the room, Conrad and Loraine were barely recognizable. Disguised in scrubs and surgical masks, they moved cautiously among the clinic staff, each of them hyper-aware of the armed guards stationed at every corner of the facility.
"This place gives me the creeps," Loraine whispered under her breath as she carried a tray of surgical tools into a nearby room. She kept her head down, trying not to draw attention. Conrad followed closely behind, pushing a cart filled with medical supplies, his eyes scanning every inch of the clinic.
"Stay calm," Conrad muttered, keeping his voice low.
"We need to blend in. Just remember why we’re here."
Loraine nodded, swallowing her anxiety. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as they neared the operating room. This wasn’t the kind of hospital she was used to. This was a black market clinic, where the rules of medicine were twisted and distorted for profit. It was a place where desperate patients, like the one Francis was pretending to be, came seeking organs—and where lives were sold for the right price.
They had entered the clinic through forged connections that Francis had painstakingly set up, posing as a patient in need of a kidney transplant. The syndicate had bought the story, and now they were deep inside the lion’s den.
---
In the operating room, the sight that greeted them was worse than Loraine had imagined. A man, unconscious and lying on a surgical table, had several incisions already made along his abdomen. Two surgeons, both dressed in bloodstained aprons, worked in silence, their hands moving with cold efficiency. It didn’t take a trained eye to see that the procedure wasn’t exactly following standard medical guidelines.
"Is that…?" Loraine whispered, unable to finish her sentence.
"Yeah," Conrad replied grimly.
"That’s an organ removal."
One of the surgeons barked orders to the nurse assisting him, completely unaware of Loraine and Conrad watching from the corner of the room. The patient on the table had no idea what was happening to him—he was unconscious, and whatever anesthesia they’d given him was enough to keep him under. But that wasn’t the shocking part. The truly horrifying realization hit them when they noticed that the man didn’t have a medical file. He wasn’t here for a legal transplant. He was here to be harvested.
"They’re taking his organs," Conrad muttered, his voice barely concealing his disgust.
"This man isn’t a patient. He’s their next product."
Loraine’s stomach turned as she watched the surgeon pull out a kidney and place it in a sterile container. The nurse quickly sealed it and set it aside, ready for transport. The entire operation was like clockwork—no hesitation, no second thoughts. It was business as usual for them.
"We need to document this," Loraine whispered, her hands trembling as she reached for the small camera hidden inside her pocket.
"We need evidence."
Conrad nodded, standing guard as Loraine discreetly snapped pictures of the room, the surgeons, and the unconscious patient. The feeling of guilt weighed heavily on her chest. She wanted to do more, to stop the procedure, to save the man on the table. But they couldn’t risk blowing their cover—not yet.
Suddenly, the door to the operating room swung open, and a tall, burly man with a scar running down his face entered. He glanced at the two surgeons, then turned his attention to Conrad and Loraine, his eyes narrowing.
"You two," the man growled, his voice deep and menacing.
"What are you doing in here?"
Loraine’s heart skipped a beat, and her grip tightened around the camera in her pocket. For a brief moment, panic threatened to overtake her, but Conrad stepped forward, his expression calm and collected.
"We’re here to assist with the post-op care," Conrad said, his voice steady. "We were told to prep the patient for transport after the surgery."
The man with the scar eyed them suspiciously, his gaze lingering on Loraine for a moment longer than she liked. She kept her head down, hoping the mask and scrubs would be enough to disguise her.
"Fine," the man finally said, grunting as he gestured toward the unconscious patient.
"Make sure he gets cleaned up before he’s shipped out."
Conrad nodded, playing along.
"Understood."
The man turned to leave, but not before casting one last suspicious glance in their direction. Once he was gone, Loraine let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
"That was too close," she whispered, her voice shaking.
"Stay focused," Conrad said quietly, his hand lightly touching her arm for reassurance.
"We’re almost done here. Just a few more photos, then we can get out."
They moved quickly, documenting every detail they could. Loraine took pictures of the organ containers, the surgeons, and even the patient’s face, hoping to identify him later. But as they gathered the last of their evidence, the door opened again—this time revealing a nurse carrying a chart.
"The next patient is ready," the nurse announced.
"They’re prepping him in Room 4."
The surgeon nodded, not even looking up.
"Good. We need to keep the flow moving."
Loraine exchanged a glance with Conrad, both of them understanding the horror of what that meant. There was another patient—another life about to be torn apart.
"We can’t stop it," Loraine said softly, feeling helpless.
"Not yet."
"I know," Conrad replied, his voice tight with frustration.
"But we’ll make sure this ends. They won’t get away with this."
As they exited the room, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, Loraine’s heart raced. Every step felt like it could be their last if someone figured out who they really were. But there was no turning back now. They had the evidence they needed. Now, they just had to survive long enough to make it out of the clinic.
---
In the waiting room, Francis lay on his gurney, pretending to be asleep while he listened carefully to the clinic staff around him. He heard snippets of conversation—mentions of prices, organ availability, and transportation schedules. He kept his breathing slow and steady, playing the part of the patient while storing every piece of information he could.
When Conrad and Loraine finally approached him, he opened his eyes slightly, just enough to acknowledge them without raising suspicion. Loraine whispered under her breath as she pretended to check his vitals.
"We’ve got what we need," she murmured, her hands shaking slightly. "We need to get out of here."
Francis nodded subtly.
"Good. Let’s move, but don’t make it obvious. Walk slow, act casual."
They slowly made their way toward the exit, careful not to draw attention. Conrad pushed the gurney while Loraine walked alongside, her mind racing with everything they had just witnessed. The images of the unconscious patient, the surgeons, the harvested organ—it all played on a loop in her head.
But as they approached the exit, one of the guards stepped in front of them, blocking their path.
"Where are you taking him?" the guard demanded, his hand resting on the gun holstered at his side.
Loraine’s heart jumped into her throat, but Conrad remained calm.
"Patient needs to be prepped for transport," Conrad said smoothly, not missing a beat.
"Doctor’s orders."
The guard eyed them suspiciously, his gaze lingering on the gurney where Francis lay. For a moment, Loraine feared they had been caught. But after a tense few seconds, the guard stepped aside.
"Make it quick," he muttered.
"We’re on a tight schedule."
Loraine nodded, her heart racing as they wheeled Francis out of the clinic. Once they were outside and far enough from the building, Francis sat up on the gurney, his face grim.
"That was close," he said, rubbing his temples.
"But we’ve got them. Now, we just need to take this evidence to the right people."
Conrad nodded, his expression hardening.
"This is just the beginning. We’re going to take them down."
As they drove away from the clinic, Loraine felt a mixture of relief and dread. They had survived the black market clinic, but the fight was far from over. With the evidence in hand, the battle against the syndicate had only just begun.