I woke up alone - nothing new. Soft, hypnotic beeping greeted me. Apparently I was getting some dextrose. The hospital room was darkened, as was the hall. It must be the middle of the early morning. Outside of the obvious you could tell by the 3rd shift nurses: they didn't talk to one another. Must be a prerequisite.
I shifted slightly to a little table to my left, being cautious of the peripheral line, before reminding myself I shouldn't have any personal effects. But, lo, there was Mattie's cell phone, a note, my belt, one quarter, a nickel and three cents. Would they think he needed these things?
"Charlie," I think she loves me, "police want you when you get up. Thanks, M- paid me for two weeks and incidentals." Hustler. "Hope you are still alive tomorrow. No word on perps. No head wind on lifted stuff." Then, very affectionally, "I want my phone back. Wipe the grease off when your done." What a sweetheart.
I took in a deep breath and rang for the nurse. I need some water.
I went over it. I got two Hispanic felons involved in murdering a gas station clerk and I stumble in the tail end of it. Trick is: there is no way they would have found this out on their own - these were street thugs, not urbane thieves that can remember to go back and take care of some loose ends. Doesn't make sense. So, I got three or four guys, the two thugs and at least two tech guys that can control them. That's an interesting proposition. McMillan can narrow this one down for me. I'll call in a minute and ask him of any brilliant shady guys in his life. Then it's a delicate thing - that kind of guy already covered his tracks.
The guys are way gone by now. But, it doesn't matter. They don't have the stolen drives. They would have no way of fencing that. They're probably in Mexico, chilling for months deep in a brothel. If I hadn't been there, if I would have died, they'd skate easy. Now the Feds will get a descript and it'll be harder for them. They won't get extradited for a young adult or an old man that they broke. They probably will never come back to the States.
Better to concentrate on the guy(s) that may be possible to snag. In order to use information, you have to have the tools running somewhere or just starting to build out. McMillan is about processes and patents. I would guess either are a possibility. This guy has things staged, it is the only explanation on why he's reacting so rashly. Are there deals happening in Tech that would push his competitors this hard?
"How ya doing, honey?" The nurse was as old as I am, and beaten up in a way I was not. But beaten nonetheless. Her music was coming off her wiry, tinny headphones. An small FM radio was hidden somewhere in her pocket. Tupelo Honey. I smiled in response to her question.
"Hopefully they find those awful men." I grunted an 'amen' to that one, "I just need a little water, honey. Any chance I can get of here now?" It was half-truth - I did want to leave, even though I knew the answer.
She grimaced her response with an underline made up of her squinted eyes. "I'll get you that water. The doctor can't release you until tomorrow morning because of you are a case." "A basket one?" She laughed weakly; she was tired. She patted my shin probably 'cause she knew it was the only place that wasn't bruised. She shook her head in a tight left to right, "They need a statement from you."
"Don't get your ass kicked?" She walked away without a reaction. This one didn't like crude jokes.
May as well get rest. I'll call the cops and a few leads in three hours. I set the phone to wake me up at 6am. Three hours of rest is all I ever need. I felt the ole' hunger come back to me, rattling up my spine. I want the guy that paid to beat me up to pay a little for this. I slept like a child.