A Medical Professional and his Minion is a free short story. A work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are products of the author’s imagination…
Gosh, we hope so!
Copyright © 2021 T. M. Watson
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This short story may not be copied or redistributed without the sole written consent of the author.
Next time you’re scheduled to visit a medical professional, check his or her credentials.
Medical professionals, regardless of their expertise, are human, too. And, just like us laymen, there’s a side of them nobody sees.
Doctor Bartholomew Chase had two agendas. One, to help people and two, become financially stable. It wasn’t enough for Bart to be good at his job. He excelled enough to become the most regarded optometrist in the city.
Bart Chase was a computer geek, away from his office. Visiting his home you’d see him repairing computers, building them or researching online…on the Dark Net.
He discovered unorthodox procedures to make money…and unsavory characters online. He found people who would do ‘things’ to profit themselves and help him get rich. Profit for them both.
Bart made arrangements for a meeting. The man claimed to be a con-artist and a technology geek. Birds of a feather.
They met at a coffee house, because Bart had resources and they could work together.
“I’m Bart. And you are?”
“Call me Fobe. It’s my name online.”
Bart was the slender, older of the two. Fobe was muscular, stout with an intense demeanor.
“Been interesting getting to know one another in the chat room, Bart.”
“Yes, Fobe. It has. Now, how do we earn the trust of one another? Bart asked.
“Let’s just begin. Get it done. But, I warn you, Bart. Don’t set me up or mess with me. I’ve been to anger management classes and have to keep my temper in check. What do you have in mind for our first venture?”
“I’ve no intention of screwing with you, Fobe. Coffee?”
Fobe nodded. “Black, no sugar.”
Bart gave him a rundown of their first job. A rich widow on the city’s south side. Lots of cash in the house. Ripe for the taking.
“She carries passwords of her accounts in her purse. Does her banking once a month at the bank’s drive in.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’m an optometrist and a medical professional. People have to trust me. Some of them tell me shit.”
Bart gave Fobe a name, address and what he knew of the widow’s schedule.
A week later, Fobe contacted Bart. They met again over coffee.
“Thanks for contacting me again, Fobe. I take it we were profitable?”
Fobe nodded. “Yep. I split it up fifty – fifty as agreed. Sixty forty from now on. Do you trust me?”
“I haven’t a choice, Fobe. But, can I trust you’ll return for another…scheme?”
He gave the optometrist an attache case. “Hundred twenty three thousand. I kept the small change.”
“Nice. I won’t ask about the widow.”
“I’d never tell you. Now, what’s next?
“The question is, who?”
For the next two years, the odd duo colluded in a related manner. Doc Chase provided the information, Fobe administered his expertise. Got it done.
The Law pursued, investigating thefts around the tri-county area and murders over a period of twenty four months. No connecting to Doc Chase. Fobe was non-existent in criminal data bases. He was invisible.
Until the twenty fifth month.
* * *
“Chase. You gotta pick me up, man. I can barely see.”
“Where are you? What’s wrong? It’s two A M.”
“The bitch sprayed something in my eyes. I ran. Lost her. C-can’t drive!”
Fobe gave Chase the location, behind an abandoned gas station.
Chase picked him up. Took him back to his office where he could examine Fobe’s eyes.
“The old lady made a direct hit, Fobe. It’s more than pepper spray. Let me reference some procedures and I’ll get you fixed up.”
“I almost had her down, but the old bitch was fast. She broke away and shot me in the eyes when I went after her again.”
“So, she got a good look at you?”
“I didn’t have my mask on, so, yeah. She saw me.”
“Dammit.” Chase placed a cold compress across Fobe’s eyes. “Lay back and relax. I’ll check my references and find a remedy. You need your eyesight.”
Our cover is blown. She saw him and she’ll tell the cops. Fuck. Two years and now this?
“Here’s some eye drops, Fobe. Don’t put them in until you get home for the night. You’ll be good as new tomorrow morning.”
“I can’t drive.”
“I’ll drive ya home. Then you need to do these eye drops. Have a couple beers and go to sleep.”
* * *
Once home, Fobe followed Chase’s directions. Two drops per eye. Not before grabbing his favorite brew from the icebox.
The eye drops cooled his eyes at first. Moments later, they began burning.
Fobe brought up his palms and held them against burning agony, screaming for relief. He felt the warm blood coming from his eye sockets.
Convulsions began, forcing him to roll off the sofa, onto the cold floor.
Something in my system! My chest burns!
Fobe’s heartbeat became rapid, then quit completely.
His world went black.
* * *
Chase visited his accomplice early the next morning. As a fail safe measure, each man knew where the other kept their stash of cash. Fobe told the truth. He trusted a medical professional, Doc Chase and didn’t lie.