CHAPTER 70: THE COST OF INFLUENCE

The door burst open, and David Morrison practically stumbled into the room, his eyes wild with a mixture of panic and desperate hope.

His work clothes were rumpled, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it, and there were traces of tears on his weathered face.

"Linda? Nina? Oh God, where..." He stopped short, taking in the scene before him.

His little girl, pale but peaceful in a bed that looked like something from a medical magazine. His wife, sitting in a real chair instead of a hard plastic hospital seat.

The room itself - spacious, clean, filled with natural light and modern equipment that hummed quietly rather than beeping harshly.

"Daddy!" Nina’s weak call drew his attention, and he rushed to her bedside.

"Baby girl," he whispered, his voice cracking as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Oh, my sweet baby girl. How are you feeling?"

"Better, Daddy. The doctors here are really nice, and they gave me special medicine that doesn’t make my tummy hurt."

David’s eyes filled with tears as he looked around the room again, then at Linda. "How... how is this possible? When Danny called, I thought... I mean, yesterday we couldn’t even..."

His gaze fell on Alex, standing quietly near the window. For a moment, David just stared at him - the young man who’d been part of their family for years.

"Alex," David said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Mr. Morrison," Alex began, but David was already moving toward him.

Without warning, he wrapped Alex in a fierce embrace, the kind of hug reserved for family in moments of crisis.

His shoulders shook with the release of hours of pent-up fear and desperation.

"Oh, my son," David choked out, pressing against Alex’s shoulder. "Oh, my son... no words, no thanks could ever be enough for what you’ve done."

Alex stood still for a moment, feeling the weight of this man’s gratitude, his relief, his love.

David had always been kind to him, had always welcomed him, but this was different. This was a father’s raw appreciation for someone who’d protected his child.

"I just made some calls," Alex said quietly, his own voice unsteady.

David pulled back, gripping Alex’s shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. "No. No, son, this isn’t just ’some calls.’ This is..." He gestured around the room, at Nina resting comfortably, at the medical equipment that promised hope instead of delivering disappointment.

"This is a miracle. And you... you gave us this miracle."

"Dad," Danny said softly from across the room, "Alex has someone... someone who could help. We don’t really understand it, but..."

"I don’t need to understand it," David interrupted, never taking his eyes off Alex. "All I need to know is that my little girl has a chance now, and it’s because of you." His voice broke completely. "Because of my son."

The weight of that word... son... spoken with such fierce love and gratitude, hit Alex harder than he’d expected.

This was what he’d never had, what he’d always longed for. Not just acceptance, but this bone-deep claim of belonging.

Linda wiped her eyes, watching her husband embrace the young man who’d become so much more than their son’s friend.

Even Mike and Sarah stood transfixed by the raw emotion in the room.

"Thank you," David whispered, holding Alex tightly. "For saving her, for standing by us, for everything... I can never repay you."

When they finally separated, David immediately went to check on Nina again, but the change in him was visible.

The desperate panic had been replaced by cautious hope, the crushing weight of helplessness lifted by the reality of this room, this treatment, this chance.

***

Memorial Hospital - Third Floor

The man stood motionless beside the large windows overlooking the hospital’s main entrance, his reflection barely visible in the tinted glass.

From this vantage point, he had watched the Morrison family’s arrival with growing fascination and mounting desperation.

Damien Kozlov... though that wasn’t the name on his current identification... had been keeping surveillance on Memorial Hospital for three days now.

Three days of watching ambulances come and go, of noting the patterns of staff shifts, identifying potential leverage points. Three days of getting nowhere.

Behind him, in the family consultation room they’d been using as an informal base, his three teammates waited with the kind of tense patience that came from weeks of failure and dwindling options.

None of them spoke - they’d exhausted conversation days ago.

Through his earpiece, he could hear every strained breath of the man they’d all come to follow like a brother. Viktor Reeves, their anchor and their shield, lay in a standard hospital room at Memorial, nominally admitted but denied the full, urgent care his condition demanded.

Each hour carved away more of him, the exotic poison burning through his body with merciless precision.

Their medic’s hands had been steady, their contacts exhausted, but nothing touched it. This wasn’t something found in medical journals or whispered about in the black market... this was crafted to end men like Viktor.

And the worst part was knowing the people who unleashed it were still out there, powerful enough to keep hunting, patient enough to wait until his final breath.

Damien had seen poison victims before... bitter, calculated, lethal... but never anything like this.

This wasn’t just a toxin, it was a precision instrument, designed to break a man from the inside out. Viktor had maybe a month left, perhaps less.

"Anything?" The voice belonged to Dimitri, his second-in-command, speaking quietly from across the consultation room.

"Maybe," Damien replied, not turning from the window. "I just watched something... interesting."

He’d observed the family’s arrival with professional interest - the level of preparation, the immediate VIP treatment, the way hospital staff had mobilized for what appeared to be a middle-class family with a sick child.

Most telling was how the hospital administrator had personally greeted them, the kind of red-carpet treatment usually reserved for political figures or major donors.

But what captured Damien’s attention was the young man... mid-twenties, and clearly not wealthy enough, judging by his clothing and demeanor, to be receiving this kind of treatment at Memorial.

Yet somehow, this ordinary-looking college student had orchestrated what he and his team had been unable to achieve despite significant financial resources and considerable pressure.

"The family that just arrived," Damien said into his earpiece. "Eight-year-old girl, kidney disease. They received immediate admission, private suite, top-tier specialist. The hospital administrator personally handled their intake."

Dimitri moved to join him at the window. "Rich family?"

"No. That’s what makes it interesting." Damien’s gaze lingered on the empty entrance where the family had just disappeared inside.

"Working-class people. But somehow they bypassed everything... waiting lists, insurance approvals, financial screening. Everything that’s been blocking us."

Through the earpiece, Viktor’s voice came through, weak but alert: "How?"

"That’s what we need to find out." Damien stepped back from the window, his mind already working through possibilities.

Andre, their technical specialist, looked up from his laptop. "You think he has connections we could... utilize?"

"I think he has something we need," Damien replied carefully. "The question is how to approach this without compromising our situation."

Their situation was precarious at best. Damien’s team had been operating in this city for six weeks, ever since Viktor had been poisoned during what should have been a routine intelligence operation.

They’d burned through most of their emergency funds trying to get Viktor proper medical care, only to discover that Memorial Hospital... the only facility with the necessary toxicology department... had refused to treat him once their background checks revealed inconsistencies in their documentation.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. They had the money. They had fake identities that should have been sufficient.

What they lacked was the kind of legitimate connections that could override the hospital’s security concerns about treating foreign nationals with questionable documentation.

But this college student... somehow he had exactly what they needed.

"Options?" Dimitri asked quietly.

Damien considered. Direct approach was impossible... they couldn’t reveal their identities or Viktor’s condition without risking exposure.

Bribery had already failed. The hospital’s ethics policies were apparently more robust than their finances could overcome. Which left more... creative solutions.

"The family is vulnerable," Damien said, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

"Child in critical condition, parents emotionally compromised, probably staying at the hospital around the clock."

"You’re suggesting leverage," Andre said. It wasn’t a question.

"I’m suggesting we explore all available options." Damien moved away from the window, uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were taking. "Viktor has few weeks, maybe less. We’ve exhausted conventional approaches."

Through the earpiece, Viktor’s breathing had become more labored. The poison was attacking his respiratory system now, among other things.

Soon, even if they got him into Memorial Hospital, it might be too late.

"The young man clearly has influence," Dimitri observed. "But kidnapping is..."

"High risk, high visibility," Damien finished. "And problematic."

"They were all thinking the same thing: they had pledged their lives to Viktor, not to endanger innocents."

"There might be another way," Andre said slowly. "What if we approach the young man directly? Not with threats, but with... a business proposition?"

Damien considered this. "What kind of proposition?"

"We don’t know what he wants, but everyone wants something. Money, favors, information, protection or something else. We find out what motivates him, and we make a deal."

"And if he refuses?"

The question hung in the air. Through the earpiece, Viktor’s voice came through again, weaker now: "No innocents. Whatever you decide... no innocents get hurt because of me."

Damien closed his eyes. Viktor had been their leader for more than eight years, had saved his life more times than he could count.

But the man’s principles were absolute, even when they might cost him his life.

"We try the direct approach first," Damien decided. "Carefully. We observe, we gather intelligence on the young man, we find out what makes him tick. Then we make contact and see if we can negotiate something that benefits everyone."

"And if that fails?" Dimitri pressed.

Damien looked out the window toward the parking garage where the family had disappeared. "Then we get creative. But Viktor’s right - no innocents get hurt unless there’s absolutely no alternative."

He turned back to his team. "Andre, I need everything you can find on the family. Names, background, financial situation, medical history, social connections. Dimitri, start surveillance on the young man... where does he go, who does he talk to, what’s his routine. I want to know who he is and how he has this kind of influence."

"And Viktor?" Dimitri asked.

"Gets the best care we can provide while we work on a solution. We have maybe a month. Let’s make it count."

As his team dispersed to begin their assignments, Damien remained at the window, watching the hospital’s normal operations continue below.

Somewhere in that building, a little girl was receiving life-saving treatment because a college student had made the right phone call to the right person.

He needed to understand that connection. Viktor’s life depended on it.

And if understanding wasn’t enough... well, they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

But for now, Viktor’s words echoed in his mind: No innocents.

Damien hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But hope was a luxury they were rapidly running out of.