Pathological Possession: Even Death Will Not Part Us-Chapter 147: Give the Dead Some Respect

"We are the police."

A sudden commotion erupted downstairs.

"We’ve received a report that an illegal underage abortion is being conducted here, please cooperate with the inspection."

The sound rapidly approached the stairs, followed by the hurried obstructing voice of a nurse, "Sorry, our hospital has only one abortion scheduled today, the patient is a twenty-two-year-old Asian adult woman, thirteen weeks pregnant, fully compliant with statutory standards."

"Is there a related statement?"

"Yes, it’s downstairs, please—"

"We’ll wait right here."

The footsteps stopped at the stairway corner.

Eleanor abruptly opened her eyes, sensing impending doom, her limbs cramped violently, uncontrollably trembling.

The tight string in her chest that was about to snap, suddenly relaxed.

Someone reporting at this time was too timely and coincidental, whether it was the gang or Mr. Grant’s bodyguards causing delay, they had targeted Mr. Grant’s group’s lifeline.

She hadn’t signed any statement since arriving at the hospital, nor undergone any preoperative checks; if the police checked thoroughly, even if she’s not underage, the process would still be illegal.

Just as hope started to spring forth, a voice sounded beside her.

"Anesthesia is ready."

A doctor appeared in Eleanor’s line of sight, wearing a blue sterile mask and hood, no expression visible, only showing serene eyes. Holding an anesthetic mask, he covered her mouth and nose.

"Take a deep breath and count with me, one, two—"

Eleanor was incredulous.

This group actually continued preparing for the surgery, were they unafraid of the lack of statement being discovered by the police, or planning to complete the surgery before the nurse’s delay?

She wanted to struggle, to shout, but as she moved slightly, a hard object pressed against her head, a man standing silently by the bedside appeared overhead.

Eleanor realized what the hard object was and instantly froze.

The next moment, she felt her legs being lifted and fixed onto side supports, the surgical lamp above flashed with sharp intensity, forcing her eyes to shut tightly.

Meanwhile, the footsteps on the stairs approached again, "The statement is legal and compliant, but with our duty, we must conduct a personal inspection."

Eleanor was suddenly torn by a feeling of powerless numbness yet hope, as if placed in a deep abyss.

The statement being legal showed Mr. Grant had prepared comprehensively, yet the police still insisted on going upstairs to inspect, giving her a chance of salvation.

But with the muzzle on her head and an anesthetic mask over her face, even if she held her breath and closed her eyes, how long could she resist?

The dose of the general anesthesia was so large, she couldn’t hold her breath for more than two gasps before succumbing. Moreover, if she held her breath too long, the doctor would inevitably notice.

A drop of coldness slid down into Eleanor’s hair from the corner of her eye.

The footsteps approached the door.

The anesthesiologist tensed with sweated face, exhaling, "She’s under, anesthesia has taken effect."

The gun above Eleanor’s head was withdrawn, the nurse pointed inward, "There’s room to hide there."

As soon as these words fell, the door to the operating room was knocked on. Due to sterile requirements, the police couldn’t enter the surgical room and were guided next door to the surgery observation platform by the nurse.

This room is generally used for surgical site teaching, from the window one can clearly view all operations on the surgical table, with a wall-mounted closed-circuit television nearby broadcasting the surgical process.

The nurse notified the female doctor through a wireless speaker, "Dr. Jones, someone reported the surgery as illegal, could you show our police officers the face of the patient?"

The female doctor halted her actions, instructed the instrument nurse to make space, revealing Eleanor’s pale face, her eyes closed tightly, her demeanor relaxing post-anesthesia, her oval face bright and delicate, yet bearing the unique softness of an Asian.

The police did not immediately leave.

They compared documents in hand diligently, scrutinized for three to four minutes to confirm her identity, then exited the surgical area.

Once their footsteps faded, the man appeared silently by the operating table.

Eleanor had been entirely covered by a sterile sheet, the tray on the trolley beside the surgical table held a bloody clump.

The man’s gaze shifted, fresh blood sprayed wildly over the tail end of the operating table, the amount of bleeding was downright fatal.

He was uneasy, "Uncover it, I need to check."

The nurse lifted Eleanor’s upper body, "Her lower body is bare, please give the deceased a bit of respect."

The man advanced forward, first checking her breath, then the carotid pulse. Breath can be feigned, but as long as the heart doesn’t stop beating, the carotid pulse can’t be concealed.

Moments later.

The man’s hand moved downward, about to press the chest.

The radio on his waist buzzed.

The static crackled, "The police have found us, they are interrogating Red K. Like us, the other group hasn’t been delayed, they’ll arrive in five minutes. If they bump into the police and find the woman dead, they’ll definitely retaliate against us, we must leave immediately."

The man withdrew his hand, "According to the agreement, the body will be kept in the hospital’s cold storage."

The female doctor nodded hesitantly.

He strode out of the operating room.

............

Mr. Ghost was rescued by passing cars.

Earlier when Mr. Ford was crossing the line, the initial impact point was the front part of the car on his side, affecting the driver’s seat.

The car door became deformed, the glass shattered.

Fragments splattered across Mr. Ghost’s cheek, leaving several cuts, the deepest one slicing open the corner of his eye, fortunately sparing the eyeball.

The middle-aged couple who rescued him were frightened by the extent of the gore at the wound, exclaiming "OMG, OMG" all the way.

No matter what, they insisted on taking him to the hospital.

Mr. Ghost was indifferent, accustomed to injuries through his tough dealings, a flesh wound was minor—the ribs broken and piercing the lung, that was what warranted an "OMG."

His thoughts were occupied with Eleanor.

His phone was scattered amidst the accident, so he borrowed the middle-aged couple’s phone to call a friend.

"It’s me, Mr. Ghost. What’s going on? Didn’t you say the two groups were mutually holding each other back, and we had someone watching? Where did this group that suddenly appeared come from? They almost killed me and took Eleanor."

"The boss has informed us, it’s your old nemeses from home, they’ve temporarily sent more people."

Mr. Ghost’s heart sank, "What about Eleanor?"

"..."

His friend breathed heavily, "Originally planned to expose in Reykjavik and be seized deliberately, reaching the hospital in the afternoon, arranging people to crash the place and stoke the fire, preventing that group from entering the operating room, but the time was moved up, we—"

Mr. Ghost shouted, "You just abandoned her?"

"No, we reported the hospital for illegal abortion right away, officers in blue hats responded immediately."

That group is quite notorious internationally, even if the police didn’t connect the dots right away.

But the appearance of dozens of muscular men in such a sparsely populated place like Froskar certainly attracted police attention.

Checking documents would be enough to stall them.

Mr. Ghost breathed a sigh of relief, "What happens now, everything still going smoothly right? Those big-time bastards like to check the carotid pulse, we went through great lengths to prepare that faux artery, it’ll definitely fool them."

His friend’s breathing intensified, rising and falling in the receiver, causing Mr. Ghost anxiety.

"Say something, were they deceived? Even if they weren’t, if our fake death didn’t work, at least make us seem truly dead."