Savage Heart

by M. G Scott

  Gregory seemed surprised at her aggressive tone. He slowly nodded and then sat back down.

  “You assumed I was going to say no, but what I was trying to say before you kept interrupting me is that I don’t work at the Beacon anymore. They fired me … almost a month ago.”

  “Really? I had no idea.” His shoulders slumped. “I guess I didn’t think your first article would be your last.”

  “Neither did I.”

  He again stood. “I’m sorry to have bothered you then. I guess there’s nothing more for me here.”

  “Wait a minute.” She reached out and grabbed his arm. “How much do you need?”

  He looked at her outstretched hand. “The operation costs a hundred thirty thousand.”

  Sabrina gasped in surprise. “That’s a lot of money. No insurance?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not an FDA-approved procedure. Truthfully, it’s not being done here in the States at all.”

  “What? Then where is it being done?”

  “Acapulco.”

  “Seriously?”

  A nod. “That’s where Blair is now, at the Acapulco Heart Center, waiting for me to give the doctor the balance due. I’ve already given him a down payment but it’s not nearly enough.”

  Sabrina peered at him. “Are you sure this is legit?”

  “I believe in it. It’s a revolutionary way of doing heart transplants to save a patient when there’s no donor available.”

  “Really. And how do they do that?”

  “They’ve figured out a way to use stem cells to literally grow a heart that will be a perfect genetic match for my sister.”

  Sabrina looked at him oddly. Something he said intrigued her. “Stem cells?”

  “Yeah.” He peered at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s something somebody said.” She took a deep breath and slumped into a nearby chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Do you know how they do it?”

  “Yes. Dr. Vua—the Center’s director—gave me a tour. It was incredible what they’ve done. They use stem cells from a woman’s placenta and they modify them to create what they need—in this case a heart that matches the patient’s cell type—and then they incubate it.”

  “Seriously?”

  A nod. “I saw it with my own eyes. They have these rooms filled with incubators for the hearts to grow. Once the heart is ready, they transplant it into the patient.”

  Sabrina straightened. “No way.”

  “It’s insane, I know.”

  “It’s definitely that.” She thought about what he said. Something didn’t make sense. “Where do they get the placentas from?”

  Gregory shook his head slowly. “That’s where it gets a bit quirky. They pay women to have an abortion at the Center and use the cells from the placenta … all right there. It’s quite a process they’ve developed.”

  Her eyes bulged. “They pay women to have an abortion?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. No wonder it’s not approved here in the States. Who runs the Center? They must have a lot of money, or investors willing to put their ethics on the line.”

  “A multibillion dollar company called BioHumanity invested in it.” Sabrina’s jaw dropped. BioHumanity?

  Gregory continued, “And what’s even weirder is my ex is supposedly down there right now.”

  “Getting an abortion?”

  “I think so. Here name’s Gina. I think she felt the placenta would be a match for Blair. And she could very well be right because I got a call from Dr. Vua not long after Gina told Blair.”

  “Why would she tell your sister?”

  “They were like sisters while we dated.

  “You are a soap opera.”

  “No shit.”

  “Do you know why she did it?”

  Gregory replied, “I have a hunch. She probably planned to have an abortion anyway … but once she realized Blair was doing this procedure in Acapulco, she decided to donate to the cause … especially given the potential of the genetic match.”

  “You mean the placenta?”

  A nod.

  “How do you feel about it?”

  Gregory thought for a moment. “You know, I was a complete prick to her so I deserve everything I have coming to me. And this just shows you what an angel she is. She did this to help my best friend.” His voice wavered.

  “Your sister.”

  “Yeah, my sister.”

  Her thoughts moved to his mention of BioHumanity. Something was bothering her about the connection. She reflected on what she read in Sanchez’s journal. Stem cells. Study. Mesenchymal stem cells. And then to what Scott had said when they were talking about it: You need a lot to do anything with it. “Any idea what kind of stem cells this Dr. Vua is using to grow the heart?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t have a clue. He didn’t say.”

  “Do mesenchymal cells ring a bell?”

  Again, he shook his head. “It doesn’t.”

  The journal’s words continued to rush from her memory: Organs … stem cells to repair organs … organs … blackmail … must go public … BioHumanity.

  And then it hit her like a wall of water. Her stomach tensed. She was sure she turned stone white. “Oh God.”

  Gregory moved toward her. “Are you okay?”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve been investigating a murder … no three murders … since I wrote the Little Johnny article.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A body washed ashore the morning of my first day at work. The police declared it an accident but something inside me told me it wasn’t. And when I pressed them to investigate further, they refused—so I took it upon myself to find out what happened. But since then, it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble,” she said without taking a breath. She pointed to her head and then out the front window.

  He walked over and pulled back the curtain. “That’s why they’re there.”

  A nod. “They’re protecting me.”

  “From whom?”

  “The killer. He … or they … don’t want me around. So for my own protection, the police are on watch until the morning. That’s when I’m leaving.”

  He eyed her, his mind obviously trying to process what she was telling him. “Are you saying there’s a killer on the loose?”

  “No doubt. There may be two. And it’s not just because of the body I found. Two more were killed.”

  “What were their names?”

  Sabrina started ticking them off with her fingers. “Eric Sanchez … Carla Sanchez—Eric’s wife … Mona Frederick—she worked for Eric. And he almost killed a doctor who’s a friend of mine … not to mention me.”

  Gregory’s eyes bulged. “And the police did nothing about it?”

  “They were being treated as separate cases. I was the only one tying them all together … until now that is.”

  “What a crappy job they did.”

  “More laissez-faire than anything.” Sabrina regained her composure, almost excited to tell someone what she’d learned over the past month. “But there’s more.”

  “Go on.”

  “Mona had a journal she had gotten from Eric Sanchez, that she tried to give me before she died. I think that’s why they killed her. But she managed to mail it to me before they got to her.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It turns out Eric was a top researcher at a pharmaceutical company and involved in stem cell research.”

  “So what’s the connection with my sister? There’s probably hundreds of studies going on with stem cells … in this country alone.”

  “It’s not just stem cells. It also involved organs. He was studying the use of stem cells, mesenchymal cells to be exact, to repair organs.”

  “Okay. Getting closer. But still not seeing a strong connection.”

  “The journal mentions how frustrated h
e was … that he was being blackmailed because he refused to continue the study.”

  “Did he say why?”

  She shook her head. “No, only that he was disturbed by what they were doing.”

  He seemed to be thinking it through. “That could mean anything. Who did he work for?”

  “BioHumanity.” Sabrina watched the reaction on his face as he connected the dots the same way she had five minutes earlier.

  Gregory reached out and braced himself. “BioHumanity?”

  “Yes, the same company that’s supposedly helping your sister.”

  “Holy shit,” he replied. He took a moment, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to make sense of what Sabrina was telling him. “And so you think BioHumanity is behind his death?”

  “I haven’t been able to confirm that. I just think it’s way too much of a coincidence that Sanchez was concerned about BioHumanity’s research ethics … and your sister is getting a one-of-a-kind heart transplant, run by BioHumanity.”

  “That didn’t get approval in the States.”

  “Exactly.”

  “If that’s the case, how are we going to prove a connection … or that they’re behind the deaths?”

  Sabrina thought about how to answer him. She knew what the answer should be but it also meant not going home and risking her life further … or worse, not being in contact with Brieman. Could she really do this? As she pondered what to do, the neurologist’s words swirled in her memory: “Once we make it to the other side of thirty-six hours, I know we’ll be okay.”

  The same question kept nagging her: How could she heal unless she gained closure for Eric? It was then she decided what to do. “We’ve got to go to the Acapulco Heart Center and find the smoking gun,” she stated.

  His eyes widened. “Are you serious? I wouldn’t even know how we get in.”

  “Your sister.” Sabrina replied abruptly. “We’ll use your sister to get behind security.”

  He thought about it. “But her operation … we don’t have much time.”

  “That’s why we’ve got to leave immediately … like tomorrow.”

  “What are you expecting to find?”

  Sabrina folded her arms. “BioHumanity’s doing something they shouldn’t be—something Eric Sanchez thought was unethical, if not criminal. Since they invested in a heart transplant procedure Eric probably worked on, somehow, somewhere, they’ve crossed the line, and we have to find out what that line is.”

  “Something worse than using aborted placentas?”

  “Maybe. It’s my goal to find out what that is … otherwise more people are going to die.”

  “Meaning you?”

  “Meaning me, Scott, and now you.”

  “Me?”

  A nod. “If somebody knows you’re with me, then that’s all the reason they need. Trust me.”

  Gregory swallowed hard. “But aren’t you leaving for New York?”

  She smiled. “I was but that was before you broke down my door. So … are you in?”

  He shook his head. “You’re one helluva strong-willed woman, I’ll tell you that. You don’t even know me yet and you’ll travel four hours to Acapulco to investigate something that’s nothing more than a hunch.”

  “I could tell you’d do the right thing just by the way you talk about your sister. You admire her. That means a lot to me.”

  “I do admire her.”

  “And because of that, I think you’d do anything if you thought your sister was in trouble. So?”

  Gregory massaged his chin. “Okay, okay. You got me. Of course, I’m in. But you have to promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That we’ll look for Gina.”

  “You think she’s still down there?”

  “I’m not sure. I looked into it when I was there with Blair. But they don’t seem to have any record of her. What I do know is she’s not at her house.”

  It didn’t take more than a second for Sabrina to agree. “You have my word.”

  “Good.” Gregory opened what was left of the back door and walked into the cool summer night with Sabrina close behind. He eased the door shut and looked at her. “It’s urgent we get there before something bad happens to my sister … or Gina.”

  Sabrina was game for where he was heading with this. “I know. We should leave on the first flight out in the morning.”

  He whipped a credit card out of his wallet. “I’ll take care of the airline tickets.”

  She put a hand up. “Absolutely not. You said yourself you’re out of money.”

  A small smile. “But the credit is still good. Besides, I can’t think of anything more worthwhile.”

  “Okay. Fine.”

  He eyed his watch. “It’s after midnight. No doubt the first flight’s around six in the morning.”

  “Doesn’t leave much time for sleep.”

  “No, it doesn’t … but we better get some while we can. I’ll go home, pack, and book the tickets.”

  “I’ll meet you at the airport later this morning.”

  “Of course.” He stepped off the porch but then turned around. “Sabrina?”

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

  She smiled and then responded, “I should be thanking you.”

  Chapter 45

  Across the alley, the black Jeep sat barely out of sight.

  Mannheim leaned over the hood and gazed upon the man and woman standing on the porch. He put down the sandwich he was nibbling on and picked up the high-powered binoculars resting next to him. He adjusted the focus and zoomed in on Sabrina’s mouth. Back in the military, he had learned to read lips from a distance. And now was the time to use that expertise for his own benefit.

  He slammed the binoculars down, perplexed at what he learned. This cat has nine lives, he thought. There was no reason for her to be here, pondering her next move. Any sensible woman would’ve cut her losses, packed up, and headed home. Apparently, she was none of that.

  What a damn, stubborn bitch.

  He slipped into the driver’s seat and pulled out a metal case resting on the floor beneath his feet. As much as he wanted to take care of her now, he had something else on his mind. He flipped open the latches and pulled out the small revolver nestled inside.

  “What are you doing?” his partner asked

  “We’ve got the journal. We don’t need her anymore. If I get a clear shot, I’m going to take it.” But he was lying.

  She grabbed his arm. “Are you nuts? Patience, Mannheim. Patience. Do you know where she’s headed?”

  “Acapulco. I could read it on her lips.”

  “You don’t say,” she replied. “And the man?”

  “She doesn’t know him, or maybe not well. He was trying to get her attention in the house before smashing the door in.”

  “And she didn’t run out the other side toward the cop?”

  “No. I lost them after they went inside, but seemed friendly with one another when they came out … friendly enough to pull out his credit card and say he’d pay for airfare.”

  The woman smiled coyly. “I think we’ve got them right where we want them.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We’ll take care of them in Mexico. They’re going to play right into our hands.”

  A smile spread across his face. “I like your thinking. Nobody’s going to connect the dots if we execute them there.”

  “Right.”

  “And you know what else? I think I’d make a damn good taxi driver.”

  She looked at him and frowned. “Where am I in all this?”

  “Nowhere,” he replied flatly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean you’re a drag on my style.” He then turned the gun toward her and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger. The silencer whistled as the bullet hit its target. Her head jerked back and then she slouched over, against the window.

  She didn’t
stand a chance.

  Mannheim removed his sunglasses and studied the small bullet hole oozing with blood. Right between the eyes, maybe a quarter inch off.

  But good enough.

  Good enough to be worth her bonus when he finished the job—a bonus worth five hundred thousand dollars.

  Chapter 46

  The Boeing 737 touched down in Acapulco as gently as a swan landing on water.

  Sabrina smashed a sweaty palm against the plane’s window in seat 19A and looked out onto the tarmac and then off into the distance. She eyed the workers going about their daily life and wondered if any of them had a deep worry on their minds. A single bead of sweat rolled down her back as her heart—thumping faster and faster—tried to keep up with the extreme apprehension she felt having to make the awful decision to leave Scott’s bedside while he was still in a coma.

  “You okay, Señora?” The thick Mexican accent made it hard to understand him.

  She grabbed the armrests and sighed. A frown settled on her face as she replayed his question in her head. She didn’t know much Spanish but did know that Señora meant her neighbor in 19B thought she was married. She turned toward him. “Yes,” she replied, not bothering to correct him. He was older, maybe in his mid-fifties, and his dark complexion suggested he was native to the region. “Just wanted to get an early view of Acapulco.”

  “Ah. I thought maybe you were feeling a bit of ill.” A small smile formed on his lips. He patted her forearm. She looked down but didn’t make any effort to move his hand. A sense of security brushed through her—a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Are you visiting for family or pleasure?” His compassionate eyes suggested he sensed her anxiety.

  “A little of both.” It was all she could think of as an answer. And it was such a simple question too. She made a mental note to think of a better response the next time she was asked—just in case suspicion arose. The plane jerked to a halt. The fasten seat belt sign pinged off. After ten minutes of watching the other passengers shuffle obediently off the plane, she grabbed her only bag, a black backpack, from the overhead bin and headed into the terminal.

  A few minutes later, Gregory appeared in the jetway with the last group of passengers. He had graciously taken the middle seat in the last row so she could sit up front.