Chapter 310: At Sword's Point
Frank and the others stepped into the warehouse. The interior had already been converted into a makeshift operating room—medical instruments neatly arranged, surgical lights hanging from the ceiling. At first glance, it looked surprisingly professional, not like some half-baked scam.
But no matter how well it was set up, this was still a temporary operating room inside a warehouse, not a sterile surgical theater in a real hospital. In the shafts of sunlight, dust motes floated visibly in the air. Performing surgery here carried a serious risk of postoperative infection.
There were many people inside—at least a dozen. Doctor Johnny was among them.
Frank's group had brought two extra people along: Terry and Jimmy.
Jimmy was there just in case. After all, he had studied medicine—medical school, even—though he'd dropped out before graduating. Still, years of training were better than nothing. Since none of them really understood medicine, Fiona had insisted on bringing him along in hopes he might be useful.
Doctor Johnny glanced briefly at Terry and Jimmy but didn't seem too concerned. He probably assumed they were anxious relatives tagging along because they didn't trust the procedure.
"Please lie down on the bed," Johnny said.
The donor was already lying on the adjacent operating table.
Frank frowned slightly and exchanged a look with Terry before lying down.
"We'll make an angled incision here in the abdomen," Johnny explained as he lifted Frank's shirt. While clearing the hair from Frank's abdomen, he continued calmly,
"Then we'll separate the diseased liver from the surrounding organs and clamp the arteries and veins—"
"*&%￥#@!"
Suddenly, the donor on the other bed sat up, shouting loudly in a language no one else understood. His expression was frantic, his voice sharp with panic.
"Administer anesthesia!" Doctor Johnny snapped immediately.
The assistant beside him immediately pushed the syringe, and the donor quickly went quiet, sinking back onto the operating table.
"What was he saying just now?" Sammi asked.
"Nothing serious," Doctor Johnny replied calmly. "He simply had a last-minute change of heart and didn't want to go through with the surgery."
"But we explained the consequences to him repeatedly beforehand. He agreed after being given plenty of time to think it over. Backing out at a moment like this shows a real lack of contractual spirit."
"Still, don't worry. Everything is under control, and it won't delay the transplant," Johnny added lightly.
"Sorry—where was I just now?" he asked.
"Something about the arteries," Sammi answered.
"How does it look?" Fiona whispered to Jimmy.
Johnny's explanation was full of technical jargon—incision sites, arteries, veins—none of which they could really understand, so they turned to Jimmy.
"It sounds fine," Jimmy whispered back. "That's the standard procedure for liver surgery."
Jimmy hadn't specialized in hepatology—like his father and brother, he'd studied thoracic surgery—but he'd learned the basics in school. Before coming, he'd also looked up the procedure online, so he understood most of what Johnny was saying. So far, he hadn't noticed anything obviously wrong.
"In short, the operation will take about six hours," Johnny continued. "Once it's finished, you'll need to call emergency services. An ambulance will take the patient to the ER, and the hospital will handle postoperative care."
"That's everything you need to know. If there are no further questions, please leave. We're about to begin the surgery," he said.
"I have a question," Terry spoke up.
"What is it?" Johnny asked.
"We're not leaving," Terry said flatly. "We'll stay right here and watch you perform the operation."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. This is a very complex procedure—" Johnny began.
"Doesn't matter. We're staying," Terry snapped, pulling a shotgun from inside his coat.
The moment Terry drew his gun, Johnny startled and took an involuntary step back.
But Johnny wasn't alone. Several others in the warehouse—his accomplices—immediately drew pistols and aimed them at Terry.
After all, they were running an illegal operation. They had no idea what kind of people their patients might be—gang members, criminals. When gangsters got shot or injured, they often avoided legitimate hospitals, turning instead to underground clinics or unlicensed doctors like them.
And gangsters weren't exactly known for their integrity. Some refused to pay after treatment, others caused trouble, even tried to extort money from the doctors themselves.
On top of that, this was America—a country where guns were everywhere. If something went wrong during surgery, who knew what an enraged patient or family member might do?
That was why these black-market doctors all had ways to protect themselves.
Jimmy reacted half a beat late. When he snapped out of it, he stepped in front of Fiona and Sammi, shielding them as he pulled a handgun from the small of his back. But judging by how stiff and nervous he looked, he was clearly inexperienced.
In an instant, the entire scene turned into a standoff—guns drawn, tension razor-sharp.
Yet even facing multiple armed men, Terry didn't panic.
What kind of man was Terry? Prison was like a second home to him. He'd seen every kind of monster imaginable. One glance told him these people were all bark and no bite—several of them were visibly trembling, fingers shaking on their triggers. Amateurs.
Strangely enough, the person Terry focused on wasn't one of the gunmen.
It was a man standing behind Doctor Johnny, next to Frank's operating table. He wore sterile surgical clothing and appeared to be one of the surgeons. His hands were empty. He had a square face, utterly ordinary, even friendly-looking—someone who seemed harmless at first glance.
But Terry felt something different.
From that man, he sensed the same instinctive danger as encountering a wild beast.
Terry trusted his instincts. They'd saved his life more times than he could count, steering him away from people he shouldn't provoke.
So he studied the man carefully, his shotgun subtly shifting in that direction.
"Everyone, calm down—please, calm down!" Johnny said hurriedly, finally realizing how bad the situation had become. "Put your guns away, all of you!"
At Johnny's order, his people slowly lowered their weapons. Terry did the same, easing his shotgun down.
The standoff ended—for now.