3 He Is Back!

A coded message was transmitted to certain chosen individuals across the globe.

Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, a high-ranked general inside a war submarine received a low-frequency ping.

A hard-boiled woman sitting in the back of a traveling truck in the Sahara desert found a message on her satellite phone.

An elite commander leading a guerrilla team in the ganglands of Venezuela received a communication on his radio.

A world leader delivering a speech to millions of followers read an urgent message on his phone.

A beautiful woman on a private jet jumped for joy when her manager whispered the news to her.

The exceptional individuals who received the message either mouthed or thought the same words. "Emperor Caesar is back!"

***

Victor decided to walk back home. He wasn't expecting Carol's return anytime soon. She was sensitive about her family and would go to great lengths to defend them. Moreover, she never realized that they wanted to exploit her.

Victor had tolerated their abuse in the past, considering her emotions. Tonight was the first time he had misbehaved with them. Carol may not let that slide. Moreover, his in-laws were likely to have filled her head with poison about him.

On reaching his street, Victor stood on the pavement and furrowed his brows. An unconventional scene presented itself before him.

A dozen expensive cars were parked on the lawn. About fifty guards in suits had formed a boulevard from the road to his doorway. They hung their heads in reverence as he approached.

Victor looked across the street. It was a miracle that his neighbors had not noticed the crowd. Perhaps they were out for the night? He sighed and walked into his house. Inside, more guards stood in attention and greeted him respectfully.

An aristocratic man around forty relaxed on the couch and watched the hearth crackling. He was wearing a Napoli suit with Chopard, gold-rimmed glasses. His aura was as if the man was acquainted with ordering people around. However, he jumped to his feet when Victor entered the living room.

"Who are you?" Victor asked the stranger.

The man rushed forward and took a knee before him, his eyes downcast. The guards also followed suit. "My name is Clive Baron, sir. I am your humble servant and head butler moving forward."

Victor raised an eyebrow. Had the New World Order (NWO) already sent someone to serve him? He disconnected the call barely fifteen minutes back. But such promptness and readiness were not surprising, considering the unlimited resources this powerful organization commanded.

Victor eyed the man and sized him up. Clive Baron? This magnate often appeared on the local news, hailed as the lord of Springfield. Clive was the wealthiest billionaire in the city and owned almost half the land and resources. He ranked among the top two hundred billionaires in the country. Compared to him, James Colbert was a peasant.

"What is your rank in the NWO?"

Clive hesitated. The man, the myth, Caesar, was right before him. Clive's rank was too low to even speak to the legendary man. Yet, he had already taken his vow and had to surrender to Caesar's will. "I am a 3-star, sir."

Victor cast a cold, demeaning glance at him. A 3-star? He should be greeted by no lower than a 5-star. However, at such short notice, it was acceptable. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Victor took a seat while Clive stood by him like a butler. "We are lucky the neighbors haven't noticed," he told the billionaire. "I want the cars and the guards gone. Right away."

"Yes, sir!" Clive snapped his fingers and barked out the orders. Immediately, the guards bowed and left the house. Cars screeched out of the driveway and disappeared into the city.

When it was peaceful again, Clive turned to Victor and knelt again. "Sir, if I may, my rank is indeed too low to serve you. However, I was ordered to break protocol because of your unexpected return. Regardless, I feel privileged to have this opportunity to serve you. Otherwise, a lowly personality like me could never meet a man of your stature. I am prepared to take any punishment for my insolence."

Victor nodded with poise. "No punishment is necessary. I accept your fealty. You can get up."

Clive exhaled in relief and got to his feet. "What are my orders, sir?"

"I need six hundred thousand dollars immediately."

The billionaire hesitated. Six hundred thousand was nothing. It was spare change. Why was the mighty Caesar asking for such a small amount?

Regardless, Clive produced an international debit card lined with gold. "There are two billion dollars in this account, sir."

Victor took the card and said, "Contact the best cardiac surgeon in the country who can arrive at Springfield Global Hospital early in the morning. My grandfather needs urgent treatment. Rest of the orders, I will communicate through messages."

The billionaire bowed speechlessly and left.

***

Carol returned home late at night. She wore a sleeveless white shirt and a black high-waist maxi skirt. She looked red around the cheeks and was carrying a brown leather bag.

"Where have you been?" Victor asked. "Are you drunk?"

"Just a little bit of wine, dear," she answered. A pained smile formed on her lips. She unzipped the leather bag and handed it to her husband. There were thick bundles of currency inside.

"What is this?"

"Six hundred thousand," his wife said, her eyes downcast. "Now we can treat grandpa."

Victor let the situation sink in for a moment. Then he spoke up. "You never wear such dark lipstick. Neither have I seen you dress so slutty before. Tell me the truth. Where were you tonight? What have you done?"

Carol's color faded, and her husband could see the guilt plastered across her face.

"I…"

"You were with the billionaire James Colbert, weren't you?" he barked. He grabbed a few rolls of notes and crushed them in his fist. "Is this his dirty money?"

His wife shook her head in distress. "No, you have misunderstood, dear. I just went for a drink with him and left early. That's all. He was willing to pay for the treatment if I met him once. James is not as bad as you make him out to be, dear."

Anger flashed on Victor's face. "Do you know why I married you, Carol? Because you were a virtuous woman with principles. You cannot imagine how devastating it is to see you pimping yourself out!"

Tears welled up in Carol's eyes. "What are you saying, dear? Don't you trust me?"

But her husband wasn't listening to her. He approached the fireplace, opened the bag, and emptied the money into the embers. The six hundred thousand dollars went up in flames.

"Have you lost it, Victor??" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and shaking him. "That was six hundred thousand dollars! It doesn't matter how I got them! We could have paid for grandpa's surgery with it!"

The man shook free of her grasp and began to walk away. He wasn't the helpless ordinary man Springfield knew but had reverted to his old, calculative personality. "I'll arrange funds for Edgar's treatment and pay back the dirty money you got from Colbert. Don't ever do something foolish like this ever again. Have some faith in your husband."

Carol wept and looked on helplessly as Victor left the room. She figured he had finally lost his mind after Edgar's hospitalization and the financial crisis. He was spiraling into madness, saying and doing ridiculous things. What kind of sane person would burn six hundred thousand dollars so whimsically? Even multi-billionaires would think twice before such an act.

***

"What do you mean the cardiac surgeon has disappeared?" Victor asked the head nurse, Emma. It was early morning the following day, and they were standing outside the ICU ward of Springfield Public Hospital. Edgar Damone was admitted inside.

"I'm sorry, sir," Emma replied. "We've tried contacting Dr. Trucker, but his phone is switched off. He isn't even responding to emails. Perhaps it is a personal emergency."

"Are there any other doctors who can perform the surgery?" Carol asked her.

The nurse shook her head. "I don't think so, ma'am. A cardiologist is tending to the patient, but he can't perform such complicated surgery."

"Go and get the Hospital Director for me," Victor said.

"Sir, he is occupied at the moment."

"Go and get him, or the consequences will be severe."

Both Carol and Emma stared at Victor in distress. Emma thought he might be going crazy due to his grandfather's impending demise, so she went to do the bidding.

Emma returned with the Hospital Director, Dr. Hodge, a fifty-year-old man with a paunch.

"Ah, the Damone case," he began, shaking his head. "Very regrettable. The procedure to be conducted is thoracic aortic dissection repair. It is difficult and risky because of its delicate nature. Inexperienced surgeons cannot carry it out. Even Dr. Trucker has done it once, which led to the patient's death. The survival chances of this procedure are very low."

Carol covered her face in dismay. "If not Dr. Trucker, can't we invite doctors from other hospitals?" she asked.

Dr. Hodge shrugged. "We can borrow a cardiac surgeon from the city's private hospitals. Let me make some calls. Meanwhile, pay the surgery fees first."

"I've already done that," Victor replied, showing a receipt. He had listened to the Director's explanations calmly, and something seemed off. Why was the Hospital Director taking Dr. Trucker's disappearance so casually?

Dr. Hodge made some calls through the reception phone and returned. "I'm afraid all cardiac surgeons in the city are occupied or inaccessible. I'm really sorry that we can't operate on your grandfather, Mr., and Mrs. Damone."

Victor looked unfazed by the news. Everything started making sense to him now. Springfield Global was a reputed hospital, and doctors never took days off so cavalierly. Dr. Trucker's absence was fishy. Moreover, doctors from other hospitals were inaccessible today, raising many red flags. Someone had gone to great lengths to make things difficult for him.

He turned to the head nurse. "Keep the equipment and technicians ready. The surgery will start in half an hour."

"What do you mean?" Hodge asked in surprise. "Didn't you understand what I said? No cardiac surgeons are available to operate on your grandfather. He won't last till the evening."

Carol put a hand on Victor's shoulder. It was evident to her that he was in a state of denial.

"Dear, let's spend some time with grandpa. He doesn't have much time left."

Victor looked at his wife. His eyes were full of conviction, and this surprised Carol.

"I told you, there's nothing to be alarmed about. I have taken care of everything."

"But-"

Just then, the sound of helicopter rotors echoed through the main window. Dr. Hodge looked in amazement as a chopper approached from the horizon. The logo of Johns Hopkins Hospital was painted across it. The aircraft hovered over the rooftop helipad and landed.

Within minutes, the terrace elevator came down, and a group of medical personnel exited. A tall, elegant woman in a fitting doctor's robe led them. A team of medical specialists and assistants buzzed around her.

The hospital staff froze as the gorgeous woman walked in. They instantly recognized her.

"Isn't she Sophia Blake, the celebrity cardiac surgeon from Johns Hopkins?"

"Johns Hopkins is among the top five hospitals in the world, isn't it?"

"What is she doing here? Do we have a celebrity admitted?"

Dr. Hodge was equally stunned. He rushed to greet her. Wringing his hands, sporting a submissive smile, he said, "We are privileged to have you at Springfield, Dr. Sophia Blake. Please, how can I be of help?"

Sophia had an attitude that made her seem aloof and intimidating. She consulted her chart and cast a critical look at the Director. "Are you in charge of this hospital? There's a patient named Edgar Damone in the ICU. I've been asked to perform surgery on this person."