Chapter 12 - Twelve NamesBy eight o'clock, I was inside St. Jude's.
The building had changed.
New walls.
New signs.
New administrators.
But the smell was the same.
Antiseptic.
Fear.
And money.
I walked to the pediatric records department.
"I'm looking for twelve patients."
The clerk looked nervous.
"Do you have authorization?"
I placed a document on the counter.
"Now I do."
She read it.
Her face changed.
"These records are sealed."
"Not anymore."
She looked toward her supervisor.
"Mr. Gallo..."
"Bring them."
She disappeared.
Ten minutes later, she returned with a box.
I opened it.
Twelve files.
Twelve children.
All treated between four and six years earlier.
All had been denied experimental treatment.
All had died.
I looked at the dates.
Something didn't make sense.
The first three deaths were months apart.
Then the remaining nine happened within forty-seven days.
That wasn't random.
I called Victor.
"Run these names."
"Already doing it."
"Look for connections."
"Financial?"
"Everything."
I opened Jacob's file.
His treatment approval had been signed.
Then canceled.
The signature belonged to someone named Dr. Marcus Reed.
I recognized the name.
He had been one of the doctors who treated Keo.
I called him.
He answered immediately.
"Mr. Gallo?"
"Did you cancel Jacob Brooks's treatment?"
"No."
"The record says you did."
"Then the record is false."
I stood.
"Who changed it?"
"I don't know."
"Think."
Silence.
Then he said:
"There was a system administrator."
"Name?"
"Caroline West."
"Where is she?"
"I thought she left."
"When?"
"Three years ago."
Three years.
Exactly when the old corruption case ended.
I called Victor.
"Find Caroline West."
Twenty minutes later:
"Dead."
I stopped.
"How?"
"Car accident."
"When?"
"Two years ago."
Again.
Too convenient.
I looked at the twelve files.
Every child had been denied treatment.
Every denial had been processed through the same administrative system.
And every person who had questioned the process seemed to disappear.
Then I found something.
A small note inside Jacob's file.
Handwritten.
Patient does not qualify.
Underneath it was another sentence, written in red.
He qualifies. Someone changed the numbers.
I photographed it.
Then I heard footsteps.
A nurse entered.
She looked at me.
"Mr. Gallo?"
"Yes?"
"I know what you're looking for."
I waited.
She closed the door.
"You're looking for the children."
"Yes."
She whispered:
"They weren't denied because of money."
My heart tightened.
"Then why?"
She looked terrified.
"Because someone was testing something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Who?"
She shook her head.
Then she said:
"Your foundation."
I froze.
"My foundation?"
"Someone was using the Hope Ship."
I felt the room go cold.
"Explain."
Before she could answer, someone knocked on the door.
Three times.
The nurse went pale.
"Who is it?"
No answer.
Then the door handle moved.
She whispered:
"Don't open it."
I didn't.
The handle stopped.
Footsteps moved away.
I waited.
Then the nurse handed me a USB drive.
"Take this."
"What is it?"
"Everything I copied before they found me."
"Who?"
May you like
She looked at me.
"The people who are still doing it."
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