Chapter 10: The Gallagher Family

"Not bad." Leonidas beamed as he praised Apollo. "That paper showed you've put a lot of work into the study of traditional prescription. There aren't many young people who really dig in anymore. Keep at it, you have a bright future." "Mr. Leonidas, you flatter me." Apollo couldn't hide his delight and quickly replied, trying to sound humble. "Apollo's steady," Leonard added with an easy smile, backing him up.  "He doesn't jockey for attention or fight for credit. He's humble and focuses on traditional prescription therapy. Solid, through and through."  Then Leonard asked, "Mr. Leonidas, you must be tired from the trip. We still have plenty of time. Shall we head to the visitors' lounge first?" "No need." Leonidas waved him off.  "Let's go straight to the inpatient ward. I'm here as an evaluator. I should do my job." "Alright." … Twenty-eighth floor.  Internal medicine inpatient ward at the Musmeynia Hospital of Traditional Medicine... Finnley walked past the rooms one by one until he stopped at Room 15, glanced at the name on the placard by the door, and pushed it open. The room he remembered as a plain triple had been refitted to look like a hotel suite. His eyes settled on the luxury bed in the center.  An old man lay there, cheeks sunken and sallow, lips tinged blue, his hospital gown hanging off a stick-thin frame. Two years ago, Finnley couldn't stand to see this old man suffer from lung cancer.  He had given him the prescription for Cancer Cure No. 1. This had been the very first patient saved by Cancer Cure No. 1. The old patient was also the first one Khester Pharmaceuticals paid to falsely accuse Finnley of selling fake drugs. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. "Hm?"  The old man on the bed, Kieran Gallagher, heard the sound and looked up.  When he saw Finnley, his cloudy eyes narrowed.  Shock flooded his withered face, tinged with a flicker of guilt. "Dr. Greenwood? You're out of prison?!" Kieran awkwardly propped himself up, his voice thin and raspy. "Dr. Greenwood?"  On the sofa, a young man in a brand-new, ill-fitting designer outfit clicked off a short video of a scantily clad girl dancing on his phone. He straightened, eyes wary. It was Kieran's son, Wesley Gallagher. Finnley didn't speak. He walked straight to the bed.  Pushing through the old-man smell that even the reek of herbal medicine couldn't mask, he gripped Kieran's wrist, set three fingers, and pressed. A glint of gold flashed in his eyes. Aura Vision flared. The pulse was thin and sunken, so deep Finnley had to press almost to the bone to catch a clear beat. It was a sign of the masculine energy being depleted. It hadn't yet reached the Seven Deadly Symptoms recorded in the texts, but it was perilous. Under Aura Vision, Kieran's lungs glowed a ghastly white, the mark of severe disease. It had already progressed to late-stage lung cancer. Finnley understood.  The court date was forty days away. There was no time to concoct a full cure. With Merit Golden Thread, it would take about fifty strands to pull Kieran back.  Finnley had three strands stored in his energy core. That meant he still needed forty-seven more before the court trial. "You haven't been taking Khester Pharmaceuticals' Cancer Cure No. 1?" Finnley asked, watching Kieran's face, which was taut with fear but held a faint, desperate hope as Finnley took his pulse. Normally, steady use of Cancer Cure No. 1 might not cure the illness outright, but it would at least have kept it from worsening. Kieran's withered face twisted into an awkward grin.  "I wanted to, but I couldn't afford it. A bottle cost $300 and lasted only half a month. That comes out to over $7,000 a year. How could a poor old man like me afford that? I got by on the meds I'd stocked up from you." "You've survived on my medicine until now, so why did you team up with Khester Pharmaceuticals to set me up again?"  Finnley finally voiced the question that had troubled him for two years. A second setup?  Panic flickered in the hollows of Kieran's eyes. Kieran's son, Wesley Gallagher, sprang up from the sofa, stalked to the bed, and glared at Finnley with narrow eyes.  "Who hurt you? If you weren't gouging people, why didn't you lower the price?" "If you'd cut the price back then, none of this would've happened. My dad's illness wouldn't be this bad. You brought all this on yourself." Finnley looked Wesley over with a pleasant smile. Back then, he sold Kieran and the others a bottle for $50, and a bottle lasted a month.  They still considered it too expensive and banded together to force him to lower the price.  When he refused, they teamed up with Khester Pharmaceuticals to frame him.  Khester currently sold the same medicine for $300, six times the price.  What goes around comes around. "I'm on my last legs. I have to leave some money for the family."  Kieran's expression turned wretched. He gave a bitter grin, showing his yellowed teeth.  "Dr. Greenwood, do you still have that medicine, or something stronger? Sell it to me. I don't want to die. I promise I won't complain about the price this time." "If I sell it to you, will you report me again for selling fake drugs?" Finnley asked. Kieran choked, then doubled over coughing. The veins in his neck knotted.  "No, no. If you can save my life, I promise I won't." "And if I don't have it? Are you going to keep going after me?" Kieran's laugh turned sly.  "You're so young. Even if you stay a few more years inside prison, you'll still be young when you get out. Look at my son. He's no good, gambled away everything we had. If I die without leaving them money, the whole family will fall apart. Do a good deed and help us out. When you get out, if my son hits it big, he can pay you back." At that shameless plea, Finnley let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Dad, why waste words?" Wesley cut in fast.  "He has no miracle drug. If he did, he would've brought it out. He never cured you. He probably delayed your proper treatment at the time. He deserved prison. The money this time is his compensation." So Khester really did bribe them.  Finnley looked Wesley up and down, the sort of son eager for his father to die quickly so he could cash in.  "You may live long enough to collect that money," he said, "but you may not live long enough to spend it." Kieran and Wesley both blanched. "What do you mean? Are you threatening me?" Wesley blustered, his voice hollow.  "I can call the police on you right now." Finnley gave him a dismissive glance and headed for the door.  He'd come to judge how many strands of Merit Golden Thread it would take to save Kieran. Staying longer would only sicken him. "Why all the noise?" An irritated voice came from the hall. The door swung open. Leonard entered with a frown. Behind him walked an elderly man whose very bearing set him apart.  One by one, a line of hospital administrators filed in behind them. "Hm? What are you doing here?"  Leonard stopped dead, astonished, when he spotted Finnley. Apollo, who had come in with the group, also froze and stared hard at him. "What are you doing here? How did you even know this patient was here?" Following Leonard's gaze, Leonidas's eyes lit up when he saw Finnley standing by the bed. Apollo noticed Leonidas studying Finnley and felt a cold prickle of dread. "Finnley, what are you doing here? You're no longer a doctor at our hospital. Who gave you permission to barge into a patient room and disturb someone?"  Apollo shouldered through to the front, righteous indignation on his face.  Then he turned to Leonard and said, "Director, this patient was one of the victims in Finnley's fake drug case two years ago. He just got out of prison and came straight here. I think he means to harm the patient. I want to call security to keep the patient safe." His scheming showed. He knew Leonard knew Kieran, but the remark was aimed at Leonidas, hoping to affect Leonidas' impression of Finnley.  Mostly, he wanted security to hustle Finnley out. Leonard shot Apollo a puzzled look, not quite grasping the urgency. He was about to agree when Leonidas walked past them toward Finnley.  In front of everyone, he did something that made every jaw in the room drop. Smiling, Leonidas extended his hand to Finnley.  "So this is what cost you your medical license?"