Chapter 79: Take Your Limitless Pill and Remember the Damn Details! (5000 words)
David nodded, not declining House's assignment.
Effective conversation skills? Nothing works better than a life-or-death situation.
Besides, although he already knew the answer, to convince House to prescribe the right medication, he had to provide the evidence House demanded.
This evidence couldn't just come from David's mouth.
The evidence had to come from the patient himself—Senator Walker.
Politicians are cunning, and their lips are sealed tight.
However, for David, working backward from the answer to find the process was relatively simple.
He walked into Senator Walker's room and directly removed the oxygen mask from the senator's face.
Without the ventilator assistance, Walker immediately showed symptoms of respiratory distress.
His chest heaved frantically as he tried to find oxygen in the room's air.
But with his pneumonia symptoms, no matter how hard he breathed, he could only take in negligible amounts of oxygen—nowhere near enough to meet his body's needs.
For a moment, only Senator Walker's rapid, desperate gasps filled the room.
Walker struggled to look at David from the corner of his eye and asked a confusing question:
"Are... are you here... to kill me? Let me go... I can... I can pay you... more money."
Senator Walker forced out the words with difficulty, gasping between them, then looked at David pleadingly.
As someone connected to corrupt officials and organized crime, Walker had always worried that the gang members, businessmen, or hitmen he'd previously wronged would come for revenge.
So the moment David removed his oxygen mask, Walker immediately concluded that the person in front of him must be an assassin hired to harm him.
Since he'd taken money for the job, if Walker offered enough, the killer in front of him might abandon his professional ethics.
Besides, the assassin had already shown his face. After he recovered, Walker could just reclaim the money!
To his surprise, David looked at him with a confused expression and said:
"Senator Walker, what are you talking about? I removed your oxygen mask to make it easier for you to speak.
I just want to ask—when you fell off that swing as a child and bit through your tongue, was it because you had a seizure? Epilepsy?"
Walker, lying on the bed and gasping for air, froze for a moment, even forgetting to breathe.
His pupils contracted, his eyes filled with shock.
Good God, was this doctor really this ruthless? He actually pulled off the oxygen mask just to ask a question?
Didn't he know that without the ventilator, Walker could die?
This doctor was probably just an intern, right?
Shocked as he was, Walker, already feeling oxygen-deprived, didn't dare delay answering.
Who knew if David would put the oxygen mask back on before getting his answer?
"Yes... yes, I had... epileptic seizures... at age six... underwent treatment... but after... after age ten... I was cured... never took... medicine again!
Please... please give me... the oxygen mask back!"
David nodded with satisfaction:
"Good. Now tell me—what medication did you use?"
At this point, Walker was already feeling dizzy from hypoxia, and even David's voice began to fade in and out, as if he were floating in clouds.
His pupils began to dilate, and his voice grew faint:
"My mother... used to... call it... Dilantin... phenytoin..."
David nodded. Now Walker was answering every question without hesitation.
So, taking advantage of this momentum, he'd ask one more critical question—one he'd been dying to know.
"Okay, last question. Where did you hide the bribery ledger? The one with all the names of the officials you've been paying off?"
Walker's consciousness was in a confused, hazy state. He felt as if he were experiencing a hallucination.
He couldn't remember what he said in the end.
He only knew that after he finished speaking, the blessed oxygen finally rushed into his body, injecting new life into his failing system.
With the influx of fresh oxygen, Walker, who had been on death's doorstep, slowly regained consciousness, and his dilated pupils gradually focused.
But the figure he thought he'd seen in what must have been a hallucination was long gone.
This made Walker doubt whether what he'd just experienced was real or merely a delusion caused by his illness.
Meanwhile, David, having left the room, returned to the conference room with his newly acquired information.
Seeing David return so quickly, everyone was stunned.
It shouldn't be this fast. Patients determined to lie are extremely difficult to crack.
They always have various reasons to hide the truth.
To extract the truth, you must first break down their defenses little by little, which takes considerable time.
So why was David back already?
Chase asked curiously:
"Did you forget something?"
David shook his head:
"No. I'm done questioning him."
Chase was stunned. It was that easy?
If it were that simple for patients to reveal their secrets, he wouldn't have gotten false information earlier.
Information the patient had decided to conceal from the beginning wouldn't just be revealed because David showed up.
Something must have happened in between.
Before Chase could ask what method David had used to extract the information, House—who only cared about results—asked:
"Did you get anything useful?"
"Childhood epilepsy. He was on Dilantin—phenytoin—which, when combined with EBV reactivation, caused a common variable immunodeficiency.
This led to decreased T cells and B cells, meaning his body couldn't produce enough antibodies to fight off the Toxoplasma gondii infection."
Chase frowned and interrupted:
"If I remember correctly, that's a childhood disease. He stopped taking phenytoin when he was ten."
Before David could respond, House took over:
"That's right. He contracted this immunodeficiency as a child, which means it's only erupting now.
This kind of delayed eruption is usually triggered by extreme stress—like, say, giving multiple high-stakes campaign speeches.
Which perfectly explains why our dear Senator Walker collapsed during his public speech.
Well done, David.
Start him on intravenous immunoglobulin immediately."
Cameron hesitated. "What if you're both wrong?"
House smirked:
"Then we'll chalk it up to bad luck. Now go."
As the immunoglobulin IV began flowing into Senator Walker's veins, David felt a familiar sensation—one he'd come to recognize as confirmation he was on the right track.
He smiled as he looked at the address scrawled on the note in his hand.
An abandoned warehouse in Newark.
His contact—a former intelligence operative named John who owed him a favor—had already sent someone to retrieve the ledger.
As John had explained, there were too many corrupt officials involved in this network. Individual assassinations weren't feasible.
The best approach was to submit the evidence to someone trustworthy in the justice system—maybe Judge Margaret Gates, who had a reputation for integrity—and let her pass it to the U.S. Attorney's office. Then they could prosecute these people properly and send them to prison.
However, David could imagine that once these people's identities were exposed, many would come looking for revenge.
David, who was just about to clock out, suddenly spotted Edward Vogler's imposing figure appearing at the hospital entrance again.
This time he wasn't as humiliated as when he'd left in defeat yesterday.
The familiar fake smile was plastered back on his face as he strode confidently into Cuddy's office, clearly there to discuss something.
David considered eavesdropping but ultimately decided not to care about Vogler's schemes.
Whatever it was, if it targeted him, he'd deal with it when it happened. And if things got really bad, he'd flip the table and eliminate Vogler directly.
For David, the top priority was confirming the destruction of the regional corruption network.
This was related to his larger mission—the one that mattered.
Only when this hidden objective was completed could he truly say he'd saved people in this region from the control of organized crime.
Only then would there be substantial rewards.
So right now, he had no time to worry about Vogler.
After clocking out, David grabbed a taxi waiting at the hospital entrance and headed toward the old Newark warehouse district.
Only then did he realize the distance from Princeton-Plainsboro to Newark was quite long.
In other words, a hundred dollars wouldn't cover the fare plus tip.
This made David suddenly realize that his usual driver—a guy named Ajay who claimed to be from Palau—was actually willing to operate at a loss every time he drove David, and never complained once.
Such a cab driver was either independently wealthy or completely incompetent at business, and David didn't know which category Ajay fell into.
David shook his head and stopped thinking about it. The guy's name wasn't on any list that mattered.
Even if such a person joined his team, he probably wouldn't last long—destined to be cannon fodder.
Right now, he needed to check on John's progress.
By the time David entered the old library building—John's base of operations—Sarah was already there.
She sat at the round table, absently playing with a stack of gold coins.
David instantly realized something had happened. He'd only given Sarah three coins.
Now, the gold coins she was playing with numbered at least twenty.
"Mission accomplished?"
Hearing David's voice, Sarah's face immediately lit up as she turned and said:
"Your job's done. They were just three pieces of trash. I used the three Continental coins you gave me to make them turn on each other.
Then I easily finished off the last one—he was badly wounded—and collected some interest along the way.
Oh, by the way, how are you adjusting to things today?"
Seeing Sarah's gaze drop lower, David suddenly remembered he wasn't wearing underwear.
Earlier at the hospital, he'd been so focused on extracting information from Walker that he'd completely forgotten about this issue.
Now, with Sarah's reminder, it all came rushing back.
Immediately after, Sarah deliberately stood up and leaned toward David.
David's eyes were involuntarily drawn downward.
When he saw Sarah intentionally leaning forward, revealing a glimpse of cleavage, David couldn't help but react physically.
The friction of his rough suit pants against bare skin—that sensation was something anyone who'd experienced it would understand.
Listening to Sarah's pleased laughter, David felt his teeth grinding. Once his situation stabilized, he'd definitely show her what it meant to pay the price for teasing him.
David took a deep breath and shifted his attention to the surveillance screens in front of John.
They showed a warehouse that had been broken into.
Shortly after, two hooded figures emerged from inside. Based on their builds, they were John and his partner, Robert.
It seemed they'd succeeded.
John confirmed through his earpiece that they'd obtained the notebook containing all the bribery records, and immediately showed visible relief.
Being able to eradicate this corrupt network rooted in New Jersey's government was undoubtedly good news for everyone.
After all, with their protection, organized crime had run rampant in the tri-state area.
So much so that for a period, there had been car bomb assassinations on the streets with alarming regularity.
John removed his earpiece and looked at David, who was being teased by Sarah. His eyes filled with respect.
As someone supposedly facing terminal illness, David was still constantly contributing to their cause.
John didn't believe that David's mysterious abilities—whatever they were—came without a price.
In his estimation, each time David used his talents might mean the tumor in his brain grew larger, bringing him one step closer to death.
Such dedication was truly admirable.
Just then, Sarah's voice cut through appropriately:
"John, you said David won't live much longer, right? Why do I get the feeling he's not like that? I think he's still pretty full of life."
After speaking, Sarah intentionally glanced toward David's midsection.
David tightened his suit jacket and immediately sat down, crossing his legs to hide his embarrassment.
He was starting to realize he had absolutely no authority with Sarah. Was it because she'd seen him naked last night?
That wouldn't do.
David tried his best to maintain a calm expression:
"I can explain. Have you heard of a pharmaceutical company called NZT Labs?
They recently developed a new targeted drug for brain tumors that hasn't been publicly released yet.
Based on my personal experience, this stuff is remarkably effective."
It wasn't the first time John had heard of this drug. David had asked him to acquire it at any cost from the company's private trials.
The company had refused initially, leaving no room for negotiation, but David had found another way in.
Now, hearing that the drug seemed to be successfully extending David's life, even John couldn't help wondering about its composition.
"Are there any side effects showing up yet?"
David thought carefully. The drug might have side effects, but they were probably being offset by the brief surges of energy he gained after saving lives at the hospital.
Moreover, the tumor in his brain was substantial. With its presence, even if the drug had side effects, he wouldn't be able to determine whether they were caused by the medication or the tumor itself.
"I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I've got at least another month in me."
Hearing David's optimistic answer, even Sarah, who'd been joking with him, fell silent.
A month?
For ordinary people, it passed in the blink of an eye.
But for David, it was everything.
Sarah didn't know what to say and could only step forward to give David a tight hug.
Since David was sitting, the hug pressed his face directly into her chest, nearly suffocating him.
This was too much.
David self-righteously condemned this behavior, stating he needed to stand up and hug her properly.
John's gaze kept moving between the two, as if he'd sensed something going on.
He suddenly spoke:
"Sarah, where did you stay last night? How do you know so much about David's situation? You didn't..."
Sarah didn't deny it, giggling as she said:
"It's exactly what you think. We spent the night together. I tried some things, but they didn't quite work out. Let's just say David's got some... performance issues at the moment."
Hearing Sarah's blunt explanation, John suddenly understood completely.
He looked at David with a strange expression. It seemed the brain tumor had a comprehensive impact on David's life.
Just as he was wondering whether to recommend some pharmaceutical assistance to David, an excited voice suddenly echoed from downstairs.
"It hit number one! It actually hit number one! Yes!"
The three of them looked toward the stairwell.
They saw Eddie Morra bounding up the stairs, waving a copy of his published novel "Breaking Bad" in one hand and The New York Times Book Review in the other.
"My book is number one on the bestseller list! Top of the charts!"
The excitement on Eddie's face was unmistakable.
Once upon a time, he'd been a struggling writer who could barely make rent.
Now he'd transformed into one of America's bestselling novelists.
The only competition he had was that epic fantasy series "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R.R. Martin.
That had dominated the charts for months, but now Eddie had knocked it off its throne and claimed the crown!
However, the three people looking at him showed no excitement—only strange, concerned expressions.
Eddie, who'd been practically dancing with joy, slowly calmed down and scratched his head, saying:
"Isn't this worth celebrating?
With this publicity boost, I can announce my run for New Jersey State Senate while doing a book signing tour."
David chuckled darkly:
"You didn't take your pill today, did you?"
Eddie scratched his head again:
"Is it that obvious?"
"Yes."
"Very."
David and John said simultaneously.
Eddie sighed deeply, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and began reading:
"Okay, ever since you warned me about the side effects of continuous use, I've been trying to avoid taking it daily to prevent addiction and dependency.
So now I've divided each pill into four doses, which reduces the duration but doesn't affect performance when I really need it..."
Halfway through Eddie's reading, David snatched the paper from his hand.
Obviously, these instructions had been written by Eddie while on NZT-48, to prevent his normal, limited self from forgetting the protocol.
To ensure no mistakes, his enhanced self had even set over forty phone alarms as reminders.
David glanced at it briefly, then threw the note in the trash. It was a reasonable method, but completely unnecessary.
"You're different from other users. As long as you keep taking it, you'll be fine."
Eddie, without NZT's cognitive enhancement, was clearly much slower. He couldn't grasp David's meaning and hesitantly said:
"But you told me that taking too much and then stopping would cause serious withdrawal symptoms and side effects.
Besides, not taking it worked out okay. Look—my book still hit number one on the bestseller list, right?"
David was momentarily speechless. He stared into Eddie's eyes and said coldly:
"Was that book written by the current you, you idiot? Have you even checked if you were followed here?
You just shot to the top of the bestseller list out of nowhere. Do you really think you won't attract attention from the people behind NZT-48?
You moron. I don't care how you ration your pills the rest of the time, but before you come to this location, you MUST take your full dose of NZT-48.
Now. Immediately. Take it.
Then use that enhanced brain of yours to remember every damn detail and confirm whether anyone followed you here!"
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