The doctor shrank back against the medical cart.

“I don’t know,” Sullivan gasped.

“Your men took my phone,” the doctor said.

“They blindfolded me in the back of the van.”

“They checked me for devices.”

Giovanni walked over to the metal table.

His boots clicked softly on the concrete floor.

“They checked your pockets, Doctor,” Giovanni said.

“They did not check your gear.”

Giovanni grabbed the black canvas medical bag the doctor had brought.

He dumped its contents onto the metal table.

Vials of medicine, sterile gauze, and plastic tubing spilled across the steel surface.

At the bottom of the bag was a portable pediatric vital monitor.

It was a compact gray box with a digital screen.

Giovanni picked it up.

He turned it over in his hands, inspecting the seams.

“Where did you get this?” Giovanni asked.

“It is standard hospital equipment,” Sullivan said, his voice trembling.

“I grabbed it from the pediatric ICU storage before your men picked me up.”

“Did anyone help you get it?” I asked, a sudden dread settling in my chest.

Dr. Sullivan looked at me, his eyes wide.