Part 3Reported on the Rescue Train

I said, “That heart is legal. It was distributed through the Red Cross organ donation system. All required ethics approvals are in place.”

The interrogator’s expression softened a little. He was about to speak when the sound of high‑heeled shoes hitting the floor came from outside.

Ariana pushed the door open and walked in, holding a cup of milk tea from an automatic vending machine. She took a sip. “Oh, are you already calling in reinforcements?”

She walked to my side, bent over to look at the phone screen, and sneered. “Officer, do not be fooled. This so‑called Dr. McGrath was her old lover. They have been colluding to sell organs for several years. My older brother obtained the evidence and plans to report it to the disciplinary committee tomorrow. She is in a hurry to run away today to get this shipment out before everything came to light.”

Dennis’s face turned pale with anger on the screen. “Nonsense. What are you doing? Who is this woman?”

Ariana tilted her head toward the camera. “I am her sister‑in‑law and a representative of the victim’s family. Dr. McGrath, nice acting. You even chose a believable backdrop. I am telling you, AI face‑swapping technology is advanced. Who knows if the person on the screen is real? Maybe you are sitting in a rental house in front of a green screen.”

The interrogator’s expression tensed again. “Video calls cannot be regarded as direct evidence.”

Ariana urged him. “Then what are you waiting for? Dismantle that container and conduct tests. I am telling you, there must be a hidden layer inside, and the drugs are in it.”

The interrogator hesitated before picking up the walkie‑talkie. “Lab, disassemble and inspect the temperature‑controlled container for any hidden compartments.”

“No.” I lunged toward the door. “Do not disassemble it. The container is already cracked. Disassembling it will ruin the heart.”

Two policemen held me down as I twisted and struggled.

Fifteen minutes later, the lab technicians entered with a tray. On the tray was the heart removed from the sterile bag. It had been exposed to room temperature for nearly thirty minutes. The surface had changed from bright red to dark purple.

The technician handed over the report. “No prohibited substances detected. The liquid in the sterile bag is standard organ preservation fluid. There are no hidden compartments in the container. This is a human heart.”

The interrogation room fell silent.

Ariana paused while sipping her milk tea, and she tried to act calm. “That does not mean she did not smuggle organs. Who would be so secretive about legal organs?”

No one responded to her.

The interrogator’s face turned grim. He looked at the discolored heart, then at the lab report, and sweat formed on his forehead.

I slumped into the chair and stared at the heart on the tray.

Thirty minutes of exposure to room temperature and the loss of the preservation solution had destroyed the sterile environment.

It was doomed. The heart was completely useless.

My mouth hung open, and I could not speak. Tears streamed down my face.

Seven hundred kilometers away, a seventy‑two‑year‑old man lay on an operating table with his chest open, waiting for this heart to save his life. He could not wait any longer.

The digital clock on the wall showed 11:47. The express train had left forty minutes earlier.

Even if the heart had not been damaged, it was too late.

I leaned against the interrogation room wall, trembling.

My phone vibrated nonstop in my pocket.

The interrogator glanced at me and did not stop me.

I pulled out my phone. The screen was full of missed calls: twenty‑three from the neighboring province’s Central Hospital, eleven from Dennis, six from the head nurse, and a long list of text messages.

The phone rang again before I could read them.

The caller ID showed Alex Fedric from the neighboring province’s Central Hospital intensive care unit.

I answered shakily and put the call on speaker.

“Dr. Linch. Where is the heart? Where on earth is the heart?”