Charlotte blushed. “Since you put it that way. Tell me, what is going to happen to the doctors now?”
They all looked at each other, then back at the camera, and shrugged.
“Let’s just say karma is a bitch. Especially when you mess with our friends.”
Charles leaned in. “Please rest assured. They won’t be harming anyone ever again.”
A robust “Amen!” came from the group.
Nikki spoke up next. “Charlotte, we are going to start a class-action suit against their holdings. It’s a civil suit. As long as we can show damages, the judge will most likely rule in our favor. It might take a while, but I don’t think any of the doctors will object.”
Fergus eyed Charles. Nope. They certainly wouldn’t be around to object. And lawyers wanted to get paid, which they wouldn’t. And since it would be a civil action lawsuit, there would be no court-appointed attorney or public defender. “According to our calculations, their entire net worth is around thirty million.”
Charlotte gasped. “Thirty million? That much?”
“Yes. We have been able to find a hundred and sixty-seven of their previous patients. Victims. That sum would probably be enough for everyone to be reimbursed,” Nikki added.
“The insurance company is going to pay Marjorie Brewster’s family a reward for the return of the stolen cars. It’s around four hundred thousand dollars. That should help her recovery. Speaking of which, she has turned a corner and is able to smile and acknowledge people in the room. They’re hopeful she will continue to improve,” Myra said.
“My head is spinning.” Charlotte chuckled. “What about the diamonds?”
“We’re throwing those into the overall fund,” Annie said. “The other piece of good news is that Norma Marcus’s check for the kennel club cleared before they froze the account!”
Everyone applauded, and the pups howled their approval.
After a bit more conversation, they signed off, but not before promising to speak again in a few days.
Chapter 38
During the arrests, none of the officers in any of the raids spoke except to give the prisoners instructions. “Sit down.” “Shut up.” The officers remained indifferent, despite the demands and screams of those they had arrested. For two days, Corbett and Steinwood were kept in isolation. Steinwood had been arrested in New Jersey and Corbett in New York, and both were taken to an undisclosed location. Each was incarcerated in a solid concrete cell. Each cell was soundproof. Neither of them knew of the other’s whereabouts or what was to come next. Steinwood demanded his one phone call but was told it would have to wait. Corbett received a similar denial. Neither could get anyone to talk to him, creating panic and fear in both men. Marcus lay in a semi-comatose state in a hospital in London. He was probably better off than the other two.
Food was brought to them in plastic pails. They had to eat in a six-foot-by-nine-foot space they shared with a bucket of their excrement. They had not showered, either. The smell alone was enough to make someone vomit.
Demanding shrieks bounced off the walls of Corbett’s soundproof cell, but only he could hear his rage. Steinwood remained silent. He was convinced it was all a bad dream, and he would wake up at any minute. Marcus, on the other hand, had recurring nightmares while he went in and out of a state of semiconsciousness. All in all, the three men had been cut off, in one way or another, from civilization.
* * *
Near the end of the second full day of incarceration, the clanking of keys drew Steinwood out of his trance. Locks clicked, and the door opened, and what appeared to be a camera flash went off in his face. A large figure stood over him.
“Turn around,” the figure demanded.
Steinwood obeyed the order while fearing the worst. The man pulled Steinwood’s arms behind his back and secured them with a zip tie that Houdini himself would have had trouble slipping out of. The man shackled Steinwood’s ankles together, put duct tape over his mouth, and placed a burlap bag over his head. Steinwood could not stop himself from urinating in his pants.
The large man looked down. “Too bad the Laundromat is closed,” he said. “Now walk.”
Steinwood tried to mumble something.
The large man said, “Shuffle,” and gave him a nudge. “Move! Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall down a manhole.”
Steinwood moved slowly as his urine-soaked pants stuck to his legs.
* * *
Corbett ranted almost the entire time he was awake. He thought he might go mad.
Did he hear keys, or was he beginning to hallucinate? A bolt turned, and a bright light filled the cell. It almost blinded him. Someone took his photo. He could not figure out how long he had been sitting in the corner, trying to avoid the stench of his own excrement. He rubbed his face and felt what he thought might be two full days of stubble.
A large man filled the doorway. “Stand up,” he commanded. “Turn around.”
Corbett was about to start shouting at the man but thought better of it. He had heard enough horror stories about prison. For the first time in several days, Corbett remained silent. As he had done with Steinwood, the large man secured Corbett’s wrists with a zip tie, shackled his ankles, covered his mouth with duct tape, and put a burlap bag over his head.
“Make one sound, and I’ll stuff you like an Idaho potato,” the man warned.
* * *
Marcus kept fading in and out of semiconsciousness. Lights. Lots of them. In his mental haze, he saw what looked like snowmen and circus tents floating around him. He could not feel anything except the cold fluid that was being pushed into the back of his hand. The last thing he remembered was Franny O’Rourke standing over him with a cinder block. He wasn’t sure if he was dead and had gone to hell. Someone appeared in his peripheral vision and shined what seemed like a laser into his left eye. Then the right. There was gibberish he could not understand. He tried to speak, but his lips were swollen shut. He was convinced he was in hell when he heard the shrill voice of Norma as she flew into the room in a rage.
“What in the blazes have you done, you arsehole? Where is my jewelry?” She was almost on top of him before someone was able to pull her away from the ICU bed. “You’d better get it back, or I’ll unplug all these machines!”
The nurse dragged her out into the hallway. “We’re sorry, miss, but this man is in very bad shape. It’s best he doesn’t have visitors.”
Norma kept yelling that she had rights, and that they couldn’t keep her away from her husband, but the constable who guarded Marcus’s door informed her otherwise. If Marcus were able, he would have laughed at Norma’s expulsion from his room. If he could speak, he would have also told her to cheese off.
* * *
Steinwood and Corbett were kept separated, but they were both on their way to the same facility, where they would once again be held in isolation in secluded quarters. But quarters wasn’t quite an accurate description of the place where they would be incarcerated. The cells they had previously occupied would seem like the Waldorf Astoria compared to their new ones.
The men were guided into two different vans, and their shackles were cuffed to a bolt on the floor. Corbett started moaning. No one said anything. In the other vehicle, Steinwood listened for any clues as to where they were or where they might be going. None of what was happening to him seemed real.