Chapter 206: Surgery Finally Completed

The tinkerer naturally didn't want to drag himself into a police station or the FBI Los Angeles office. Practicing medicine without a license is a crime in any country, not only with fines but also requiring jail time.

But he also didn't want to finish the surgery too quickly, giving this fat old white man a chance to escape. How to finish the surgery just right, and make people unable to see the flaws, wasn't a difficult thing for him, who possessed a super brain and senses.

As for the option of not finishing the surgery, relying on his iron body to carry bullets and breaking out, it didn't exist in the tinkerer's plan. Finishing the surgery was to be worthy of the one million dollars he received.

Secondly, if he did it halfway and threw it to someone else to finish. Then if this person survived, or died because of surgical failure, or died of postoperative infection, who should the credit or blame go to?

This wasn't the tinkerer coveting such credit or wanting to kill someone, but he also wanted a proof to confirm that he had the ability to complete such a difficult surgery.

So the tinkerer, while paying attention to the progress of the police arriving at the scene, did the finishing work of the surgery.

His movements were smooth and silky, without the kind of deliberate pauses to drag out time. But compared to his performance after opening the abdomen, several more experienced medical staff could see that the speed was not just a little slower.

Everyone tacitly didn't make a sound. Because they didn't have the confidence not to be implicated by the chief surgeon's crazy behavior, so the only savior was the police who were about to arrive.

By then, as long as they insisted that they were forced to assist in the surgery, it shouldn't be too heavily punished. Anyway, they didn't have licenses to be revoked, and they were already the status of being kicked out of the hospital system; as long as they didn't die, the situation didn't seem to be worse.

When the gallbladder and liver were ligated, the tinkerer picked up the syringe used for extracting fat and injected the human fat back to its original place.

The young white guy who was pointing a gun at the tinkerer's head saw this and cursed: "What are you doing? Is this dragging out time?"

"You know a fart. If you dare to say you know, then you do it. Give you a chance to perform and show loyalty, maybe you can get promoted and get a raise later."

"I just don't know, so I have to ask."

"That's good, I'll explain it to you properly." As he spoke, the tinkerer stopped his movements and turned to look at the man who kept pointing the gun at him.

The tinkerer's movements made the fat old white man lying on the operating table scold loudly, and the young white guy who was pointing the gun also cursed wildly. He said: "Don't stop your hands! Continue the surgery for me!"

"This is what you don't know and want to ask. Is it my fault?" The tinkerer pretended to be aggrieved. But he still turned back and continued the work at hand.

Just when the tinkerer finally injected all the fat back to its original place, covered the opened abdomen, and was preparing for the final suture, it should have made everyone breathe a sigh of relief. Unexpectedly, the police car's siren came from a distance, clearly audible.

The originally relatively calm crowd was obviously panicked. They frequently looked at the boss who was undergoing surgery, not just wanting to see if the surgery was finished, perhaps in their hearts they hoped the boss would open his mouth, so they could run first.

Andrew Saxon naturally understood everyone's eyes, but how could he open his mouth. He didn't want to test whether his subordinates were loyal enough, and whether he would be the only one left on the operating table in the end, waiting to be arrested by the police obediently.

The more it reached this time, the calmer he became, no longer shouting to urge the tinkerer's movements. Seeing that it only needed to suture the abdomen, if he slowed down the other party's movements because of speaking, the only one who would regret it would be himself.

It could be said that everyone's attention was in three places now. One was the police siren that was gradually approaching from far to near, one was the car and retreat direction they had prepared, and the last one was naturally the tinkerer's surgical progress.

Finally, the suture was finished, and the tinkerer used scissors to cut off the remaining thread.

The young white guy who had been staring at the tinkerer saw this, and the gun barrel pushed forward again, poking the back of his head, and was about to shoot.

The tinkerer turned his head unhurriedly, looked at the person and said: "Hey, don't be so anxious. The needles on your boss haven't been pulled out yet, and the body won't be able to move. And don't you need to cover the wound with gauze? Without protection, it's easy to get infected and die."

"Just pulling out needles and gauze, it doesn't have to be you." The triumphant young white guy threatened to shoot.

He seemed to really want to see the panicked look of the other party and hear the other party's begging voice. It was just that the tinkerer was very uncooperative, instead using a speed that was too fast to cover his ears to insert a scalpel he had hidden in advance into his wrist!

"You damn... what did you do to me!" After being stabbed, the young white guy wanted to pull the trigger to solve the person in front of him.

Unexpectedly, his fingers couldn't move. The palm and wrist holding the gun lost all strength, hanging down powerlessly, and the pistol almost fell out of his hand. So he could only shout in panic.

It was just that he had already heard the sound of the police breaking in, and those guarding the outermost perimeter also started to shoot at the police. The gunfight entered a white-hot stage almost in an instant, until most people emptied their magazines.

Regardless of whether the needles on his body were pulled out or whether the wound was covered with gauze. Andrew Saxon made a decisive decision, no longer entangled in whether to kill this damn chief surgeon, even if he hated him the same, but shouted:

"Don't worry about him, drive the car over, move me to the car. Leave them behind, let them go explain to the police what happened here."

The Rolls-Royce that brought the tinkerer had long been waiting outside the inflatable operating room. A group of people passed through the disinfection channel and wanted to push that mobile operating table to the side of the car, so their boss could get in the car.

And those medical staff who were blocked in the inflatable operating room, including the tinkerer, no one dared to grab that only exit with those guys holding guns.

Their actions were also as instructed by the fat old white man, only his own people could get in the car, and they ran away after loading. The medical staff who walked out of the inflatable operating room a step slower could only look at the warehouse where the gang members ran away, looking at each other.

The tinkerer took off the surgical clothes worn on the outer layer and threw them away casually.

The situation of other medical staff was different from the tinkerer's; they didn't add a layer of clothes outside their own clothes, but changed directly into surgical clothes. However, it was obviously not the time to change clothes with peace of mind, so they just took off the blood-stained gloves and threw them away.

Watching the gang members run away, the tinkerer picked up the two large bags containing money, as well as the small handbag he brought with him containing medical tools, and was about to walk out.

A group of people who were at a loss didn't dare to act alone, and followed the tinkerer's actions one after another, picking up their own things.