Page 103 of Blood Money

Mohammad bolted for the exit door, as did Gray. The door squeaked as it began to close, but not before Gray rammed his shoulder against the heavy door, knocking it open so hard it whacked against the wall. He drew his weapon. Booted feet echoed, heading down. Gray followed.

Behind him more feet pounded, telling him Dom and the others weren’t far behind. He sped down the stairs, catching scant glimpses of Mohammad’s tan jacket. With each floor, Gray closed the distance between them. As he approached the third floor landing, he heard nothing. No footsteps. No doors opening or closing.

He slowed, holding up his hand, indicating Dom and the others should do the same. A figure emerged halfway down the stairs below him.

Aiming a gun.

The gunshot echoed in the confines of the hallway. Gray ducked for cover, firing three times as he moved. Dom fired twice.

Mohammad dropped the gun and slid down the wall, leaving behind a six-inch wide blood smear.

In no time, the narrow stairwell was crammed with Shanahan, Grimaldi, and the other officers. Gray and Dom approached Mohammad, weapons still out.

Mohammad’s eyes were open and dull. Five holes oozed blood on his torso. Blood from the hole at his neck seeped into his shirt before trickling onto the floor.

Gray felt for a pulse. There was none.

He holstered. “I’ll check on Nicky.” Without waiting for a reply, Gray headed back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His breathing was labored, his pulse skyrocketing. At the fifth floor, he yanked open the heavy door and made for the intensive care unit. The sliding doors were open, and he went directly to the foot of the first bed.

Nicky lay on a white sheet, eyes closed, sweat beading on his forehead. Tubes ran from an IV pole into his arm. Gray noted a blue cooling blanket peeking out from beneath the sheet. He turned at the sound of footsteps to see Shanahan and Grimaldi.

Turning back to Nicky, his gut clenched with fear that they were too late. The slow yet steady beeping from the monitor next to Nicky’s bed sent a wave of relief coursing through him to the point where he felt physically weakened. He shook it off as the ER doctor entered the cubicle and checked the boy’s vitals.

“Doc, the boy has a rare form of leukemia.” Gray wiped the sweat from his forehead. “He needs some kind of experimental treatment or he could die.”

“I’m aware of that.” The doctor glanced at the shield hanging around Gray’s neck. “I’ve seen the alert Detective Shanahan faxed over. Unfortunately, this hospital isn’t authorized to administer experimental treatments. Even if Nicky’s doctor came to this hospital, we couldn’t allow the treatment because it’s not approved at this facility.”

“That’s bullshit.” The urge to shake some sense into the ER doc had Gray fisting his hands. He ignored the slight twinge of pain that shot down his left arm.

The doctor shook his head. “No, that’s lawyers. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to make arrangements to have Nicky transferred to the hospital that supports his experimental treatment. We’ve been trying to locate the boy’s physician, Dr. Maxwell, for the last thirty minutes. As soon as we speak with him, we’ll make arrangements for the transfer.”

“What’s Nicky’s temperature?” Gray touched his hand to Nicky’s forehead. “He feels hot as hell.”

The doc checked the monitor. “One-oh-five. No, one-oh-six.”

Again, Gray swiped at the sweat on his own forehead. “How long does it take to arrange for an ambulance and a transfer?”

“Anywhere from one to three hours.” The doctor made a notation on Nicky’s chart.

“Like I said, that’s bullshit. Nicky can’t wait.” Gray turned to Shanahan. “Did you call Alex?”

“I was about to when you came in.” Shanahan reached into his pocket.

“I’ll do it.” Gray whipped out his cell phone, relieved when Alex answered on the first ring. “We found Nicky.”

“Is he…?” Alex sobbed. “Is he dead?”

“He’s alive.” Gray swiped more sweat from his forehead. “He’s at Mount Sinai Hospital with a high fever. The doc says they won’t allow Nicky to receive experimental treatments here, so we need to take him to the hospital where Nicky’s doctor practices.”

“He’s at New York-Presbyterian.” Alex’s voice trembled as she rattled off the address.

“Meet us there and find Dr. Maxwell. They haven’t been able to reach him.” Gray tried to keep his voice calm for Alex’s sake, although he was worried as hell about Nicky’s condition. “Tell him Nicky’s spiking a hundred and six.”

“Okay, I’ll find him wherever he is.” She took a deep breath. “Please hurry.”

“Count on it.” Gray ended the call and took Nicky’s IV bag in his hand to read the label. Saline.

“I can’t let you take this boy out of here.” The ER doctor put a restraining hand on Gray’s shoulder. “You aren’t the boy’s guardian, and with that high a fever, he could die if he’s not transported properly.”