Chapter 4 - The Vanishing X-Rays and the Code Silver
Twenty minutes later, Emily was wheeled into Operating Room 4 under the care of Dr. Robert Vance, our top orthopedic surgeon.
I walked briskly into the radiology reading room to pull up Emily’s digital imaging. I sat at the primary diagnostic terminal, swiped my physician badge, and entered her medical record number into the PACS system.
The screen flickered.
“ERROR: Patient Record #88491 Restricted by Administrative Override.”
I frowned, typing in my master clinical credentials.
The screen blinked again, and the entire imaging folder vanished before my eyes. Her forearm X-rays, her CT scans, and her admission triage logs were being systematically purged from the hospital’s secure cloud servers in real time.
“What the hell?” I whispered, hammering on the keyboard.
Suddenly, the reading room door clicked shut.
I spun around in my chair.
Standing inside the darkened room was Dr. Kenneth Hayes, the hospital’s Vice President of Medical Operations. He held a leather portfolio in one hand and a termination notice in the other.
“Dr. Jenkins,” Hayes said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Step away from the terminal.”
“Dr. Hayes? Someone is deleting Emily Harris’s imaging records right now!” I said, pointing at the flashing red error prompt. “Her husband has committed serious physical abuse, and there is forensic evidence of a concealed cryptographic device inside her arm!”
Dr. Hayes walked over to the desk, set the termination notice down directly in front of me, and pulled out his pen.
“Mr. Daniel Harris is a major benefactor to Chicago Memorial,” Hayes said coldly. “His foundation recently pledged twelve million dollars for our new pediatric wing. He has informed the board of trustees that you have assaulted his wife, violated HIPAA compliance, and performed unauthorized surgical interventions contrary to medical power of attorney.”
I stood up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Are you out of your mind?! The woman has necrotizing fasciitis! She was locked in an industrial cast with fishing line stitches! She was going to die in less than six hours!”
“You are suspended immediately, pending an ethics investigation by the state medical board,” Hayes replied, ignoring my words entirely. “You will hand over your hospital badge, your pager, and any personal property taken from Trauma Room 2. Right now.”
He reached out his hand, expecting me to hand over the specimen container in my coat pocket.
He was in Daniel Harris’s pocket. The twelve-million-dollar donation was the bribe that bought the hospital administration’s silence.
“I’m not giving you anything, Kenneth,” I said, looking him dead in the eye.
Before Hayes could react, the hospital intercom system crackled with a frantic, piercing alarm tone:
“CODE SILVER, OPERATING ROOM 4. CODE SILVER, OPERATING ROOM 4. ARMED INDIVIDUAL REPORTED ON SURGICAL FLOOR.”
My heart stopped.
May you like
Daniel wasn't waiting for the administrative cover-up to work. He had sent men into the operating room to take Emily by force before she could wake up from anesthesia.
I shoved past Dr. Hayes, ripped open the reading room door, and sprinted toward the surgical elevator bay.
