The Recipient

  He stood and moved to one side. Nodding his head, he slowly walked the length of the chamber in front of Casey, hands in his pockets.

  “He was always a vulnerability,” he ventured thoughtfully. “But easily manipulated, particularly where money was involved. It did, however, make him effective…for the most part. In the end, Arlo couldn’t decide which world he wanted to occupy. He was drawn to the power of the enterprise and how it fed his ego. He wanted the good things but he lacked discretion. Arlo’s vulnerability lay in his inability to commit to one path. Thus, the flaw in this system was…exposed, as you say.”

  Fedele smiled, as though impressed by the genius of Casey’s deduction. “Clever girl.”

  Casey watched him continue to pace. Slowly, patiently.

  “By eliminating this vulnerability, the system remains intact,” he continued. “This is the expertise for which you are so highly sought after, isn’t it? But there is still an external threat.”

  Fedele stopped pacing directly in front of Casey and turned to face her. He extended his finger. “You. All that is left then is to eliminate you.”

  Casey tensed as he stepped towards her. He began to unbutton his shirt.

  “You can’t.”

  “Oh?” Fedele challenged her mockingly, removing his shirt completely and tossing it to one side. “Once you are gone, there will be nothing left. You, after all, have a rather fatalistic personality. A troubled young woman with a long history of psychiatric illness and drug abuse stemming from your inability to adjust post-transplant. You have already made a significant attempt on your own life. It is well-documented. A suicide is very easy to construct. Particularly when you are a surgeon of my calibre.”

  Casey watched in horror as Fedele removed his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, allowing them to fall to his knees. He was naked underneath. His erection throbbed visibly as he stared at her.

  “But you can’t,” she repeated. Fedele frowned, tilting his head. “You have been exposed,” Casey continued. “Arlo was more formidable than you thought.”

  She paused, to allow the import of her words to stop Fedele as he began to approach her.

  “He kept notes, records and diaries. I saw them. He exposed you at length. About what you were really doing in Afghanistan. Your links to Jarsayah Sonmez. How you were harvesting organs from captured enemy combatants for profit and how you both agreed to continue the operation afterwards. He kept it all.” Casey noticed Fedele’s features flicker involuntarily and he seemed to falter where he stood. “The clients Sonmez procured for you in Indonesia and South East Asia,” she continued, her voice taking on a note of bitter defiance. “How you facilitated Arlo’s position with Elyria Medical Services so he could provide health checks for asylum seekers: your donors. How you used your connections with the government to secure those donors in exchange for payment. Arlo kept it all.”

  Casey let her muscles relax.

  “The police are coming for you, Fedele. You can’t do anything more.”

  A thick silence descended between them. Casey closed her eyes, the sound of the monitor above her head echoed distantly. Defeat began to seep into her.

  Without warning, Fedele’s expression changed and he snarled, swooping towards Casey until his face was centimetres from hers. Casey blinked in shock. His teeth ground together noisily, threateningly. The muscles in his jaw were so taut they quivered.

  “Oh, but I can, Casey,” he seethed, peppering her chin with his spittle. “I can do plenty.”

  Reaching down, Fedele traced a finger between her naked breasts and down over her belly to the top of her cotton briefs. Clutching the material in his fingers, he grimaced and with a surge of strength, Fedele tore the briefs from Casey’s body, tossing them aside. He stood back and looked down upon her naked form. His hand dropped to his thickening penis and he stroked it while licking his lips.

  Casey attempted to look away in revulsion.

  She could see he was losing control; a state that she doubted he had rarely, if ever, experienced.

  Her revelations had caused something to snap and he was now beyond reason, beyond the veneer of the powerful, charismatic and influential heart surgeon.

  Leaning in again, Fedele lowered his hand to her chest and traced a finger across her right nipple toward the scar.

  “I gave you a gift, Casey. All you had to do was move on with your life.”

  “Saskia wouldn’t let me,” Casey whispered with resignation. “From the moment you gave me her heart, her torment became mine.”

  Fedele blinked. He withdrew from her, gazing upon her with revulsion.

  “These dreams?”

  He looked away, shaking his head incredulously, then turned to the medical cabinet along the wall. Slowly, methodically, Fedele opened a drawer and took out something from inside. “Perhaps then, it is time to end your torment.”

  Without warning, the muffled sound of a smartphone rang out from an adjacent drawer. Fedele stopped what he was doing and wrenched the drawer open angrily, snatching the phone from inside and holding it up.

  He glared at it as the sound of thrash metal rock music assailed him from the handset’s tiny speaker. For the briefest of moments, Casey felt a surge of hope.

  Sasquatch!

  Fedele pressed the power button on the side of the handset to extinguish the noise but the phone kept spewing sound forth into the room. He thumped it against his palm, becoming apoplectic. Still the phone wouldn’t silence.

  Casey began silently counting to herself.

  1…2…3…4…

  Fedele wheeled around and glowered menacingly, thrusting the handset out at Casey. “How do I shut this fucking thing off!”

  …6…7…8…9…

  Infuriated by her silence, Fedele flung the phone across the room where it smashed against the wall opposite, disintegrating into several pieces. The offensive noise was silenced.

  Casey turned her head away from Fedele as he continued to rage. Her eyes were drawn to the ruined remains of the smartphone which had fallen underneath the second surgical bed.

  She smiled.

  A small, bright green LED winked to life and blinked steadily.

  ___

  Scott’s van leapt over a fall in the freeway, becoming airborne for a moment before smashing down onto the bitumen in a shower of sparks. The City Link tunnel entrance loomed ahead with flashing signs warning drivers to slow down, but he ignored this, instead dropping back a gear and accelerating. The engine whined in protest and the van shot forward like a bullet.

  “Get out of the bloody way!” he roared, mashing his hand on the horn as cars ahead weaved out of the way of the careening van.

  Lionel clutched a handle above the door while bracing his other hand against the dashboard in front of him.

  We’re going die on this Godforsaken roadway.

  “Do you even know where you’re going, Scott?” he protested.

  Scott glared at Lionel as he swerved around an SUV, then hesitated.

  “I don’t know! I never come to these millionaire suburbs.”

  “You need to slow down,” Lionel countered evenly, trying to calm him.

  Reluctantly, Scott tapped the brake, slowing only slightly. He shifted into the right-hand lane, which had been closed to traffic but he ignored the warning signs hanging down from the roof of the tunnel.

  Adjusting the volume knob on his police scanner, Scott listened to the chatter they were following. Patrol cars had apparently converged on the Toorak residence of Simeera Fedele.

  “Damn it. They beat us to the punch,” Scott cursed angrily.

  “No,” Lionel countered suddenly, raising a finger. “Listen.”

  “…Negative, negative Central. Suspect is nowhere to be found. Suspect is not at this address.”

  Lionel and Scott glared at one another.

  “Where else could he have taken her?” Scott protested.

  Lionel’s expression tightened.

  “She could be anywh
ere,” he whispered.

  Scott flicked his gaze at the phone sitting in the dashboard cradle.

  “I’ve gotta try her again, Lionel. If there is any chance…”

  Scott quickly tapped the screen, bringing up Casey’s number then pressed the dial icon.

  Both men waited.

  Whereas before it had gone straight to her voicemail, this time, the phone rang through.

  Lionel and Scott looked at one another intently. Then, suddenly, the phone went silent.

  “Shit!” Scott hissed, grabbing the handset. He prepared to redial, but was interrupted when an app opened on-screen.

  He blinked in confusion. Then disbelief.

  “It’s her!”

  Lionel frowned and sat forward. “What? She’s dialling you?”

  Scott shook his head. “No. She’s not dialling me. Her phone is…”

  He didn’t finish his sentence.

  Shoving the phone at Lionel, Scott wrenched the gearstick back. The van fishtailed, its tyres screamed on the bitumen until they gained purchase.

  Lionel held the phone in his hand, trying to focus on the screen as the van reached the limit of the tunnel’s descent and was now rocketing back up towards the exit.

  On the screen, an icon flashed on and off.

  ‘GPS signal acquisition pending.’

  “What, Scott? What on Earth is it?”

  Scott waved one arm insanely in the air. His face was as red as a beetroot.

  “GPS! GPS!” he spluttered.

  Lionel glared at Scott. “Bloody technology. I don’t understand!”

  “We need a fucking GPS signal!”

  The tunnel exit came into view ahead of them, while the lane they were in became accessible again to the traffic ahead of them. Scott rammed his fist down on the horn and hollered out through his side window.

  “MOVE OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY!”

  The van erupted from the tunnel and into the Melbourne night. Scott yanked the steering wheel down, veering sharply across four lanes through a gap in the traffic. A massive rig loomed from behind as he entered the extreme left lane. Its air horn roared in protest. There was a piercing scream of metal on metal as the massive bull bar of the rig clipped Scott’s taillight, obliterating it and crumpling the metal housing. The van shuddered and hopped violently but Scott quickly accelerated away from the truck as it braked.

  “Jesus!” Lionel hissed as he struggled to hold onto the smartphone, nearly dropping it. “What is this? I don’t get it!”

  He squinted at the screen with its flashing message.

  ‘GPS signal acquisition pending.’

  Suddenly, the message changed.

  ‘GPS signal acquired…Standby for location’

  “It’s Casey!” Scott blurted. “She put that on my phone ages ago. It’s a tracking app that locks onto her phone if ever she’s in trouble. She was worried that if her grey hat work ever went south, she might need it. It’s like a failsafe thing.”

  Lionel shook his head. “This will lead us right to her?”

  “To her phone, yes. Just cross your fingers and hope she’s got it with her.”

  A satellite map of the city flashed up, with an orange dot in the centre and a blue dot that was mere millimetres above it.

  “There!” Lionel snapped, pointing at the screen. He showed it to Scott. “We’re practically on top of her.”

  “Hang on,” Scott growled with a sardonic smile as he sped toward an exit ahead of them.

  ___

  Fedele closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he brought his rage under control.

  Casey looked back towards him and flinched as he lowered his head and looked directly at her. The corners of his lips turned up in a beatific smile. Endorphins flowed through him, stimulating him, washing away his anger.

  He sidestepped towards the cabinet and resumed his task, taking wrapped medical trays from the drawers and placing them on the stainless steel trolley. His still naked body began to glisten with sweat and Casey watched him in horror. Her right hand stiffened and flexed in the leather strap but she knew there was no hope of breaking it.

  Fedele went to a sink and turned on the tap. He began washing his hands methodically, using a surgical sponge to soap his hands and arms, scrubbing them as thoroughly as he would as if he were preparing for the operating theatre. The process took minutes. He said nothing. He did not look at her. Casey could only watch.

  The intense pain exploded once more from within the heart and ripped across her chest. It was ferocious enough that it took her breath away. She gasped, but stifled the sound in case Fedele heard. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Fedele finished his task then raised his arms, using his elbows to nudge the tap lever off. He turned and approached Casey, keeping his arms raised, waiting for the air to dry them.

  “If you are not prepared to value the gift which I have given you,” he remarked coolly, “then you do not deserve it.”

  He sat down on the stool once more and inspected his arms, satisfied that they were sufficiently dry. Drawing the trolley towards him with his foot, he began unwrapping the instruments and arranged the surgical tools on the sterile surface. He took a packet containing sterile surgical gloves and lay them open on the tray.

  His practised movements were calm with no hint of impatience or fear. Pausing in his preparation, he turned and leaned in close to Casey, his intense eyes boring into her. She tensed, twisting her head away from him as best she could.

  “You leave me no choice but to take the heart from you,” he breathed menacingly. “And I will take it from you.” He smiled and began applying the surgical gloves.

  “You won’t get away with this,” Casey snarled in a final, if hopeless, act of defiance.

  Fedele merely chuckled. “I already have.”

  Rotating on the stool, Fedele armed himself with a scalpel blade and held it in his right hand with the delicacy of an artist. Electric motors whirred underneath her as Fedele adjusted the bed’s height. Casey felt herself lowering. He reached above her, taking a leather strap that was out of her view. Pulling it taut over her forehead, Casey felt her head snap down hard as he secured it to the bed.

  “We’re not going to need an anaesthetic this time,” he mused gleefully.

  The tension in Casey’s muscles grew, reaching their zenith in a final act of defiance. But she could no longer hold them. Her mind swirling, she let them go; her body slumped back into her bonds. She succumbed to the inevitable.

  “Take it, you fuck,” she hissed. “I don’t want it anymore.”

  CHAPTER 35.

  Left!” Lionel shouted at Scott as he held the smartphone in one hand while shaking his other hand through the window.

  Scott weaved in and out of the traffic, ignoring the potential disasters as the van hopped crazily around one street corner after another. Once clear, it roared onward. Scott glanced over at the smartphone screen, checking the destination marked by the blinking dot.

  “Christ! At this rate, we’re gonna be led right back to where we started!” he growled. “Are you sure you’re reading that thing right?”

  Lionel threw his arms up, then just as quickly grabbed the base of his seat as they careened through yet another intersection. Cars, trucks and motorbikes skidded and swerved across the road while drivers punched their horns in anger.

  Lionel squinted down at the screen. His eyes grew wide. “It’s just ahead! We’re closing to within 500 meters!” He showed Scott the screen.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Scott growled. “Surely this can’t be right.”

  Suddenly, he jammed both feet on the brake pedal. Smoke poured from the van’s tyres as it came to a screeching halt. Grabbing hold of his seatbelt, Lionel recoiled in horror then shut his eyes until he was sure they hadn’t hit anything. Looking up, he saw traffic in front of them had squealed to stop. Several drivers had leaped from their cars and were shouting abuse.

  “This is not good,” he murmured ruefully.

/>   Ignoring the commotion, Scott wound down his window and peered out into the night, directly across from where they stood. He looked upon an ultramodern office complex of sandstone and tinted glass that stood back from the street on an elevated strip of land. A driveway rose up from the street alongside the building. The complex was flanked on either side by very grand and expensive residential properties.

  Grabbing the phone from Lionel, Scott glared at the screen and confirmed that they were right on top of the location marked by the blinking dot. He scanned the darkened building desperately for signs of activity.

  “This isn’t Fedele’s home,” Lionel remarked.

  “No, it’s not,” Scott replied.

  He fired up the engine and shoved the van into reverse. The tyres squealed on the bitumen once more, forcing Lionel to brace himself.

  “What on Earth?” he wheezed as the van leapt backwards and then sideways. Scott lined the van up so that it was facing the office building.

  Scott jabbed a finger towards the front of the office complex, where it met the street. Lionel followed the direction of his finger until he found himself looking at a polished chrome sign attached to a sandstone column.

  ‘Mr. S. Fedele MBBS, MS, FRAC, FCSANZ - Heart and Lung Transplant Surgeon.’

  Revving the engine, Scott glanced across at Lionel.

  “Hang on!”

  The van pounced, screaming up onto the driveway. As soon as they were clear of the road, Scott jerked the steering wheel. The van lurched sideways, aiming it at the massive glass window.

  Lionel gulped, but he had no time to react as the wall of glass rushed up to meet them.

  ___

  Fedele snarled as he wrenched down on the leather strap securing Casey’s right wrist, then he leaned across her, pressing his naked body against her as he repeated the action with the strap on her left. Pain knifed down the length of her arm from her shattered collarbone and tears bulged in her eyes. Her terror gave way to despondent grief.

  Fedele pounced up onto the bed, straddling her and glaring at her with a maniacal grin. Any remaining vestiges of the consummate clinician she had known him to be had disappeared into this monstrosity.