Chapter 682

"Evan Gospel?"

Fisk had already made up his mind.

For Vanessa, he would walk through fire, cross a field of blades, or step straight into a dragon’s lair if that was what it took to save her.

Then the doctor told him where he could find that miracle.

For several seconds, Fisk seriously considered finding a giant iron ball attached to a chain and smashing the doctor into the nearest wall until there was nothing left to scrape off.

How much commission are you getting from that company?

Did you forget who introduced Evan Gospel to you in the first place? Me!

Have you been selling their drugs for so long that you’ve started believing your own sales pitch?

Fisk’s opinion of Evan Gospel was already abysmal.

He had known from the beginning that the company possessed considerable resources. It had military connections and government support, too. But there was an old rule in the criminal world: even a powerful outsider had to respect the people who already ruled the neighborhood.

That was precisely why Fisk had originally decided to use Evan Gospel for his money laundering.

A company with that kind of backing should have been safer.

Instead, things had gone spectacularly wrong.

What was supposed to be a business arrangement had effectively turned into protection money.

Naturally, Fisk hadn’t developed a warm relationship with the company afterward.

Still, if this had merely been a matter of pride, Fisk could have swallowed it. If saving Vanessa meant lowering his head and begging Evan Gospel for help, he would do it.

Unfortunately, there was another problem.

He didn’t trust their medical technology.

Evan Gospel had once asked Fisk to do them a favor: make sure every doctor in Hell’s Kitchen, legitimate or otherwise, stocked their medicines.

As a crime boss, Fisk had no difficulty making that happen.

But he’d seen the kind of drugs companies like that usually sold.

They weren’t exactly lethal.

That was about the nicest thing anyone could say about them.

Their effectiveness was barely better than tap water, and the entire business existed to squeeze money out of desperate people.

Some of their products were outright defective and caused all kinds of complications. Their stomach medicine, for example, might fix your stomach while simultaneously wrecking your liver.

Ever since Evan Gospel had made that request, Fisk had mentally lumped the company together with every other shady pharmaceutical outfit he’d ever dealt with.

And now, when Vanessa’s life was hanging by a thread, this doctor wanted him to trust a company he associated with fake medicine?

Somebody get me a machine gun.

The doctor saw Fisk’s expression and immediately realized he needed to explain himself.

"Mr. Fisk, you were the one who introduced this pharmaceutical company to us. But in all the time since then, have you heard a single negative report about any of their products?"

Fisk’s anger stalled.

He hadn’t.

That was true.

The other companies he’d dealt with had always generated trouble sooner or later. There would be accusations of fraud, families claiming their loved ones had been harmed, people demanding compensation.

Some cases had become serious enough that Fisk had needed to make them disappear. A few convenient car accidents and the occasional unfortunate fire had taken care of the worst of them.

But Evan Gospel’s products had been on the market for quite some time.

Not one serious scandal.

Not even a rumor.

Fisk frowned.

Could it be...?

Maybe the stuff was literally just colored saline.

No benefit.

No harm.

The doctor saw the hesitation and continued quickly.

"To be honest, I was suspicious of their medicines at first, too. But the clinical results speak for themselves. Their effectiveness is extraordinary."

He spread his hands.

"A surprising number of street-level criminals who’ve used their medication end up back in the hospital eventually. And when they do, they specifically ask for Evan Gospel’s products. Some of them actually get angry if we prescribe anything else."

Fisk stared at him.

People were coming back for the medicine?

And getting angry when they couldn’t have it?

That was a strange kind of customer loyalty.

What the hell are they putting in those things?

The doctor continued.

"And I can tell you this with complete confidence. The poison Vanessa was exposed to is extremely unusual. If we hadn’t used that yellow medication from Evan Gospel, she probably wouldn’t have survived this long."

Fisk froze.

So the medicine really worked.

He looked through the window toward the intensive care unit.

Vanessa lay motionless beneath the harsh hospital lights, tubes and wires running from her body in every direction.

The sight twisted something inside his chest.

"But it didn’t remove the poison from her system."

"Was that really their best medicine?"

The doctor removed his gold-rimmed glasses and wiped them carefully with the edge of his white coat.

"Evan Gospel has only released two medications so far. Both have produced results that, in some cases, are almost miraculous."

He put his glasses back on.

"With results like these, their products would sell extremely well even through legitimate channels. So why would a company with that kind of technology deliberately take a less conventional route?"

Fisk slowly turned his head.

The doctor had his attention now.

"Under normal circumstances, the obvious explanation would be that they’re short on cash and need to recover their investment quickly."

He shook his head.

"But a company capable of developing medicines like these wouldn’t be desperate for money."

"So there’s only one other explanation."

The doctor’s expression sharpened.

"They want to establish their reputation as quickly as possible and collect as much clinical data as they can. They’re not merely trying to distribute their products nationwide. They’re aiming for something much bigger."

"National medical coverage?"

"Exactly."

The doctor nodded.

"And that means the drugs they’re currently using to establish themselves probably aren’t their best products. They may even be older formulas they’ve already decided to phase out."

He paused.

"If that’s the case, they’ve almost certainly developed more advanced medicines already. Something with stronger effects. Something far beyond what they’re putting on the market right now."

"Hmm."

Fisk fell silent.

He was a crime lord, but his public identity was that of a successful businessman. He understood how capital worked.

Companies didn’t rush to put their most advanced technology on the market if they could first use something cheaper and less valuable to establish themselves.

If the doctor was right, then Vanessa’s hope really did lie with Evan Gospel.

Fisk made his decision.

"Prepare an ambulance. We’re taking Vanessa to the company."

The orders came immediately.

"And I’m going with her. I’ll pay them a personal visit."

Wesley had already begun directing the nurses and Fisk’s men to prepare Vanessa for transport.

He stopped.

Fisk was actually going himself?

Wesley didn’t know the old saying about wealthy men avoiding unnecessary danger, but he understood the principle behind it. A man like Fisk had no business personally walking into an unknown situation.

He opened his mouth to object.

Then he saw Fisk’s eyes.

There was no hesitation there.

Wesley had seen that look only once before.

It had been the moment Fisk decided to take control of Hell’s Kitchen’s criminal underworld.

Wesley closed his mouth.

"I’ll make the arrangements."

He paused.

"But don’t you think we should notify Madame Gao first?"

Fisk considered it.

"Yeah. Good idea."

Madame Gao had already dealt with Evan Gospel once.

If anyone could serve as an intermediary between Fisk and the company, she was probably the best choice.

"Contact her."

Wesley nodded and immediately went to work.

Fisk turned back toward the intensive care unit.

Vanessa was still lying there.

This time, he wasn’t leaving her fate in the hands of ordinary medicine.

He was going to Evan Gospel himself.