"Absolutely," Jack replied, his smile widening. "Your plan to pose as a surgeon isn't bad. The problem is that you're a bit too shaken and forgot that you already introduced yourself to him."
He mimicked a gunshot to Jubal's head. "The moment you walk in and start speaking, there's a good chance he'll put a bullet in your skull."
"So, the fake surgeon should be me," Jack continued. "What you need to do is coordinate with SWAT's commander to ensure there's no repeat of what just happened."
Jubal frowned, thinking it over. He still looked doubtful. "Can you convince him?"
Jack shook his head honestly, though his confidence didn't waver. "Probably not. But if words fail, I can use... physical persuasion."
Jubal groaned in frustration. "Fine. I'll negotiate with Octavio to release Lucas Caldwell. But you'll need to disguise yourself—you're far too young to pass as a seasoned surgeon."
As expected, when the FBI informed Octavio they had a willing surgeon, he quickly agreed to release a hostage. With his son's abdominal cavity already open, time was critical.
With help from a few professionals, Jack's transformation was complete. A SWAT officer handed him a medical kit. "Here's what you asked for."
Jack hefted the kit, casually pressing a concealed button at the bottom. A compact Glock 19 emerged from a hidden compartment.
The Glock 19, a smaller version of the Glock 17, was a popular choice among law enforcement and military personnel—compact, reliable, and easily concealable. Jack inspected the firearm, ensuring it was functional and secure within its hidden slot. Satisfied, he reloaded it into the kit and tested the compartment's mechanism to prevent accidental exposure.
The SWAT officer pointed to a tablet displaying building schematics. "Our snipers identified a potential firing angle through the southwest window. If you can maneuver him there—"
Jack cut him off. "Just have your team ready for a breach. We've got a better plan."
It wasn't that Jack doubted the snipers' skill, but he trusted himself more. He and Jubal had already agreed on signals and strategies, keeping control of the timing and execution.
Both Jack and Jubal believed Octavio didn't deserve to die, despite his willingness to sacrifice himself for his son.
Once dressed in green surgical scrubs, Jack donned a coat over them and adjusted his posture. His demeanor shifted dramatically—his shoulders slumped, and he moved with a slight stoop. The addition of a greying beard and wrinkles turned him into a convincingly seasoned surgeon, radiating quiet expertise.
Meanwhile, Hannah and Aubrey received their assignments from Jubal.
"Aubrey, contact Hope General Hospital immediately. It's the nearest facility, just five kilometers away. We need a transplant surgeon on standby."
"I'll do my best," Aubrey assured.
"No, you must make it happen. That boy is only 12 years old—he doesn't deserve to die. Regardless of what Jack manages to accomplish, we need this ready," Jubal emphasized.
Aubrey nodded firmly. "Understood. I'll handle it."
Turning to Hannah, Jubal continued, "You've worked with Jack more than anyone here, so I don't need to say much. Coordinate with SWAT and prepare to breach if needed."
Hannah, exuding calm confidence, grinned. "Got it."
Finally, Jubal showed Jack a webpage displaying his doctored profile. It featured his post-disguise photo alongside fabricated credentials. "We've uploaded your fake CV online—Sean Murphy, 52, Columbia University graduate, transplant surgeon at Hope General."
Jack nodded, amused by the name and age mismatch. "Sean Murphy? At least I'm not autistic," he joked, referencing The Good Doctor.
A team of six SWAT officers escorted Lucas Caldwell out on a stretcher. Once they cleared the area, Jack approached the warehouse, carefully opening the side door while keeping his hands raised.
"Hello," Jack said, his voice deliberately hoarse and slightly raspy. "I'm Dr. Murphy, here to help your son."
"Get in, close the door, and move forward!" Octavio barked, his AR-15 slung across his chest and a M1911 pistol in hand. "Stop there! Put the bag down! Step back, back!"
Jack complied without hesitation. Octavio crouched and opened the medical kit, scanning its contents. Satisfied it contained only surgical tools, he circled behind Jack, pressing the pistol against his back to check for concealed weapons.
For safety, Jack had even forgone his hidden earpiece. Octavio had no idea their every move was being monitored through fiber-optic cameras.
As Jack surveyed the room discreetly, he noticed Nicole Wright tending to Tony Diaz. Despite her mask, her occasional glances at Jack revealed her lingering fear.
Once Octavio confirmed Jack wasn't armed, his tense posture relaxed slightly, though his pistol remained trained on the faux surgeon.
"I appreciate you coming, Dr. Murphy," Octavio said, his tone softening.
Jack gestured toward a nearby sink. "May I?"
"Of course," Octavio replied, still cautious but more cooperative.
As Jack washed his hands, he asked casually, "Is the donor a perfect match?"
"Yes, they confirmed it before," Octavio replied, glancing anxiously toward the surgical room.
Jack retrieved the medical kit and seemed ready to enter the surgical room but paused. His voice took on a sincere tone. "I must advise you: this isn't a wise decision. A surgery of this complexity requires a full medical team to ensure success."
"No!" Octavio shouted, his emotions boiling over. "I tried everything! The hospitals didn't care—they turned us away because we don't have insurance, because we're not Americans!"
His voice cracked with grief and frustration. "For ten months, I've watched my son grow weaker until he can't even say 'Dad' anymore. What else could I do? Watch him die? What would you do?"
Jack faltered, struck silent by Octavio's anguish. Memories surfaced—of Helton, who risked everything for his daughter; of Lawson, who nearly lost himself trying to protect his son, Jacob.
"No," Jack finally said, his voice steady. "I wouldn't let him die. I understand you, truly."
"Then I sold everything—my car, worked three jobs, borrowed from friends and family—to gather the surgery fees," Octavio said, his voice shaking. "But the day before the operation, that cowardly doctor canceled because his anesthesiologist got into a car accident. He didn't care about my son's life—only his own!"
Tears streaming down his face, Octavio wiped them away with his sleeve. The pistol in his trembling hand was barely steady.
Jack took a deep breath. The time for persuasion had passed. "Okay. Enough talking. I understand you. I really do. If it were me, I'd do the same."
Jack touched his left earlobe briefly—a subtle signal. Stepping forward, he extended his right hand. "I promise you, I'll do everything I can to save your son."
"You promise?" Octavio asked, hope flickering in his tear-filled eyes. He hesitated, then switched the pistol to his left hand and reached out with his right.
"Of course!" Jack's voice returned to its normal tone as he met Octavio's shocked gaze.
In the blink of an eye, Jack executed a flawless over-the-shoulder throw, slamming Octavio to the ground. The pistol flew from his grasp. Before he could reach for his AR-15, Jack had already disarmed him and dislocated both shoulders in a swift, calculated move.
Octavio let out a howl of pain as SWAT teams burst through the entrances.
"Move! Move! Move!"
"Check the area!"
"Quick! Stretcher! Bring the stretcher!"
Jack handcuffed Octavio and reset his shoulders. "Stop resisting. I told you I'd help your son. As for you, think about how to win over the jury."
Meanwhile, Jubal rushed into the surgical room, shouting, "The transplant surgeon at Hope General is ready!"
Hannah and Aubrey helped Nicole Wright transfer Tony to the stretcher. Despite her earlier fear, Nicole stayed by Tony's side. "We need to hurry. He needs immediate surgery—I'll monitor him myself."
"You sure you're okay?" Hannah asked.
"I'm fine. I need to calculate the anesthesia timing. It's critical," Nicole replied, her resolve shining through.
Jack watched her silently, impressed. The contrast between doctors like Nicole Wright and Lucas Caldwell couldn't have been more stark.
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I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 471)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 677)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 1059)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1418)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1422)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1452)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1504)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld!(Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
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