American Medicine: I survived the death knell thanks to the devil.

She glanced up at Lynn's face but didn't ask anything.

He turned the page and pointed to a line of blue numbers: "This week's net profit is 5370. Adding that to the previous weeks, our net income this month is almost 20,000!"

Her calculator was clicking away.

"You could buy a used portable ultrasound machine."

"I thought you were going to talk about renting a house." Lynn leaned against the car wall and looked at her.

Cassie looked up, genuinely puzzled:

"Why rent a house? Living in this car is perfectly fine."

"We should expand production! With the new equipment, we can treat more patients and have another 20,000 patients!"

To make it easier to heat up instantly, I added a microwave oven to the car, which I bought from a flea market for 25 yuan. It's just missing a turntable glass panel.

Cassie replaced it with a glass lid from some unknown object.

Lynn tried it and it did work, but it made a tractor-like noise when heating up.

"Don't you find it noisy?"

"The New York subway is noisier," Casey said matter-of-factly.

After his income skyrocketed, the first thing Cassie did was buy himself a new pair of shoes.

Adidas Samba training shoes.

It's last year's color scheme from the discount store, originally priced at $79, now on sale for $99.

But she hesitated for four whole days.

The reason I finally convinced myself was: "I need to have a firm footing during surgery; this is an investment in medical equipment."

The second thing she did was go to Duncan's Donuts and buy two medium-sized Americanos.

"Buy one medium cup, get one free. Not buying a second one is a waste."

She handed one of the glasses to Lynn, and sipped her own glass slowly.

Lynn noticed that when she had drunk about a third of the cup, she paused for a moment and then put the cup into a thermos.

"You can reheat it in the microwave tomorrow and still drink it."

The third thing she did was buy a cactus for $3.99 at the Bronx flea market and put it in her car as decoration.

Thursday afternoon, Chief Resident's Office.

Although it was only 6 square meters, Lynn finally had some private space in the Metropolis.

He was writing his discharge summary when Victoria pushed the door open and came in.

She closed the door and screwed the blinds on.

Have you seen it?

She was referring to this month's subscription data.

"Dr.V" gained 1,500 subscribers this month.

Following Lynn's suggestion, she lowered the basic subscription fee to $9.99 and created a new $29.99 tier, which included some exclusive videos.

Of the 1,500 new subscribers, more than 1,300 chose the basic tier, while more than 100 subscribed to the premium tier.

Based on the corresponding monthly fee, after deducting the platform's 20% commission, her net income from new subscriptions this month was just over $14,000.

Lynn received a 25% cut, which netted her over $3,500.

Although there are fewer illegal clinics, the money is easier to earn.

The money was transferred through the account of a shell consulting firm under Victoria's name, and it looked like a normal business consulting fee.

"I saw it. The growth curve is healthy." Lynn didn't look up.

Victoria sat down opposite him.

"I think we should strike while the iron is hot and launch a new series."

"Which direction?"

"You decide... I've been browsing your country's video sites for a long time, but I still don't quite understand."

For these words to come from Miss Vanderbilt's mouth, it was already a very large concession.

Lynn finally raised her head.

"I recently took over as acting chief resident, and the scheduling is not yet fully organized."

"Give me two more weeks, I'll stabilize the situation in orthopedics, and then I'll help you with the planning."

Victoria stared at him for a few seconds.

In the past, when she encountered such a response, she would have thought it was procrastination, negligence, or a problem that required pressure to solve.

But now, she simply turned and walked to the door, pausing for a moment.

Don't overwork yourself.

He pushed open the door and left.

Victoria felt a little disappointed. She was Lynn's half-superior and knew her schedule.

Perhaps the recent events involving the speaker have exhausted him.

It will be fine after a while.

That was the only way she could comfort herself.

……

Miller started noticing something was wrong with the taste in the third week.

Lynn would occasionally turn down his orders.

This kid is very cautious and doesn't do much public promotion. So why is he so busy now? Could it be that he's found some new way to get things done?

Lynn's reasons were also quite valid: she had been promoted and there was a lot to learn in adapting to her new position.

Miller did not press the matter directly.

He checked the accounts first.

The FBI's financial surveillance authority was greatly expanded after 9/11.

Miller managed to access all of Lynn's bank accounts, credit card statements, and electronic transfer records in just half an afternoon.

result……

Very clean.

The salary from Metropolitan Hospital was deposited into the account on time.

A monthly transfer from a consulting firm in Delaware, with a stable amount and official 1099 forms and contract filings.

This is some kind of consulting fee given to him by the eldest daughter of the Vanderbilt family. It's not a large sum, and the source is perfectly legitimate.

In addition, there were no large cash deposits, no suspicious transfers, no cryptocurrencies, and no overseas remittances.

His spending habits haven't changed much.

Rent, supermarket, the occasional Amazon order, and the weekly pizza delivery.

It's so clean.

Miller sat in the Saabban, chewing gum and staring at the forms on the screen.

He took on side jobs and earned extra money, but there was no sign of any change in his finances.

There are only two possibilities. Either this kid is really too busy to take on any work lately, or he's leaving in pure cash, or someone has cleaned him up completely.

Miller checked Lynn's call logs again.

The hospital, my colleagues, the pizza shop—all were old numbers with no unusual activity.

"Damn Fourth Amendment," Miller cursed.

Since the Supreme Court ruled in the Carpenter case in 2018, the FBI has been unable to access a phone's history without a judge's search warrant.

A hard check will trigger a red warning and leave a trace in the system's backend.

If open methods don't work, we have to resort to covert ones.

Miller dialed a number, a long-time contact at Verizon's telecommunications security department in the Southern District of New York.

"Please help me locate a number."

The operator's backend performs base station triangulation, without entering the federal database or leaving electronic footprints.

This is an old-school detective's gray survival skill: find out the results, but never write down the process in the report.

It's effective, but shouldn't be overused.

Fifteen minutes later, the screen lit up.

A coordinate system, plus a red circle with a radius of 300 meters.

South Bronx, near Huntington Avenue.

That's the awful thing about base station positioning.

In Manhattan, the accuracy can be as close to fifty meters.

But in the Bronx, where base stations are sparsely located, the error circle drawn by three base stations can cover half a street, two intersections, and at least three abandoned gas stations.

Miller opened another window and switched to the New York City Department of Transportation's ALPR (Automatic License Plate Recognition) system.

Type in the license plate number of the modified Cassie car and press Enter.

The trajectory of the past week: zero.

A modified car that runs in New York every day went undetected by any of the city's more than 6,000 surveillance cameras for seven days.

That's impossible in Manhattan.

But in the South Bronx... that makes a rough guess.

The cameras here are broken and no one repairs them; they're stolen and no one replaces them—there are blind spots in the surveillance.

Perhaps it was a coincidence, but the car just happened to avoid the camera's view.

Maybe not.

Miller turned off the computer, spat out the tasteless chewing gum, and started the car.

It seems I'll have to go see it for myself...