Summary

Investigative journalist Henry James is on the trail of illegal organ harvesters, following leads to a small town where he believes the sister of Dr. Damen Alexander is setting up a sting operation.

Abstract

Henry James, a writer for "Dark Sides of the Truth" magazine, is urgently pursuing a story on illegal organ harvesting. He travels through rural Texas, guided by back roads, to reach the town of Pierceton. There, he finds a community that seems to be punching above its weight, with a busy main street and a surprising level of activity. James learns from Dr. Damen Alexander, who has been unwittingly roped into the operation by his sister Sunny, that she is orchestrating a sting to catch the organ harvesters. Sunny has fabricated a medical scenario, involving a blind transfer of money and a fictitious patient, to lure the brokers into a trap. Dr. Alexander, as the inside man, is expected to receive blood samples and falsely report a successful cross-match, which would trigger the final stages of the illegal organ transaction. James, realizing the gravity of the situation, anticipates a dangerous and potentially deadly conclusion to the sting.

Opinions

Henry James believes that Sunny Alexander's sting operation is risky and that she may be in over her head.
Dr. Damen Alexander is apprehensive about his involvement in the sting, fearing both the potential harm to himself and the ethical implications of his actions.
James acknowledges the severity of the situation, likening Sunny's actions to playing Russian Roulette with someone's life.
Despite the danger, James seems determined to see the story through, possibly out of professional curiosity or a sense of responsibility to expose the truth.
There is an underlying frustration with the organ donation system, as Dr. Alexander expresses his helplessness in the face of patients dying due to a lack of available organs.

Deadly Donations Part V

My name is Henry James and I’m a writer for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Conclusion

Normally I’m in no hurry to get anywhere when I drive. Something about cruising back roads listening to music and munching on road trip food is a trip down coolness lane for me. It’s usually how I stumble onto my stories, or how they stumble onto me.

But not today. Today I had a single destination and I was heading that way as fast as I could.

Interestingly enough, where I was going wasn’t a big city by most standards with major arteries flowing through it. Turned out, the back roads I love to travel were the only way to get there. I took TX 71 W out of Austin, passed through Flatonia and Shiner then wound my way along several farm roads — some of which Google Maps didn’t even know about — until I reached Pierceton.

Rick had been right. As I rolled into town it was easy to see this was a small town trying to put on some big boy britches.

I wouldn’t say main street was bustling, but it was busy. Shops lined both sides of the street. Bistros and boutiques were buzzing with what looked like steady activity. Lucky for me it wasn’t hard to find one of my favorite fast food chains for a double meat, double cheese burger, onion rings and a strawberry shake.

Heaven on Earth folks.

Sated, my stomach offering me its usual thank you grumbles and whines, I returned to my car and sat there running through my next steps. How do you find somebody who doesn’t want to be found? At least who doesn’t want to be found by me?

I didn’t bother to read the number displayed when my phone rang and answered it.

“This is James.”

“Mr. James this is Damen Alexander. Rick McDonnell said you wanted to speak to me?”

“Thanks for calling Doc. So I’m just going to dive right in here. I believe your sister is setting up a sting on some illegal organ harvesters and I think she’s using you to get to them. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

It’s been my experience when you’re talking to someone over the phone, the silence on the opposite end of the conversation can sometimes tell you a whole lot.

“Listen, Damen, this is some serious shit we’re talking about here. I’m all for your sister scooping this story. Hell, I wished it was mine, but I think she needs some back up on this one. Just like I did with the Baxter Huntley story.”

“She made me promise. You work with her. You know how she is.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle on that one.

“Let me guess. You’re scared she’ll kick the crap out of you?”

“I’m telling you Mr. James me and my three brothers don’t stand much of a chance against her.”

“I hear ya man, but I think she’s in a little too deep on this one. Can you at least tell me how this is going to go down?”

Again complete, stony silence.

“Damen, please.”

“Okay, but you have to promise to take the hit on this if she finds out.”

“I probably will anyway.”

“I’m going to regret this. I just know it. Okay, so she convinced the family to do a blind transfer of some money to the First National in Pierceton. My guess is she expects the broker to check her out. Make sure she’s got the money. Then she concocted some health statistics on a make believe person, and told me all I had to do was inform the hospital I was to take any calls about this fictitious patient of mine.”

“Calls?”

“Like if anyone called saying they were next of kin wanting to know the prognosis.”

“Especially how much time this fictitious patient had if they didn’t receive a transplant?”

“Exactly Mr. James, but know this. Houston General has never been a “broker friendly” kind of hospital. If the organ isn’t certified through the UNOS database we won’t touch it. Although there’s times I wish we would. You can’t imagine what it’s like doing everything you can to help these people only to watch them die because you can’t get an organ in time.”

“So you’re in essence the inside man on the sting. Have you received any calls?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Okay, figuring this broker checked the boxes on her finances and the need for an organ what’s the next step?”

“I’m supposed to receive blood samples from the live donor then inform them of the results of cross matching.”

“I don’t know what the hell cross matching is and I don’t wanna know, but did you say live donor?”

“Of course. Especially for kidneys, blood needs to be circulating through the organ at the time of extraction. From that point the clock is ticking. Anything past twenty four to thirty six hours and the organ is pretty much useless.”

“I take it you haven’t received anything yet?”

“No sir. Not yet.”

“Okay, Damen thanks. Listen, you call me if you hear from your patient’s kinfolk again or receive a blood sample right?”

“I will. Oh, there’s something you need to know. Sunny told me when I did receive the blood sample I was to wait two days then call the number on the sample box and tell them the cross matching was perfect even if it’s not.”

“Okay, not sure I understand how that helps.”

“What it means Mr. James is that once I make the call someone within the next twenty four hours is either going to be one kidney shy of a set or dead. Simple as that.”

“Right, got it. Thanks Damen.”

I thought about his last statement as I hung up the phone. In my mind Sunny was playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded pistol against another person’s head.

This could end up becoming a lose, lose type of situation fast.

I figured if Sunny was going for flash and glamour she’d pick the most expensive hotel in town for starters. The Gaymon Plaza Inn seemed the most likely and I sauntered up to the concierge to inquire about a room for a couple of nights.

After discovering the room rate would never fly on my expense report I perched at the hotel bar, ordered an overpriced soda and settled in for an extended bout of people watching.

If she was here, I was pretty certain I’d spot her. Didn’t have a clue what I was going to do next, but I figured I’d think of something. I’ve always been pretty quick on my feet.

Even if I do run like a three legged dog.

READ ON — DEADLY DONATIONS PART VI

Let’s keep in touch: [email protected]