guys have these oversized chompers that look like walrus teeth, and some don’t and can pass for Joe Normal. Lots of different species. Maybe it has something to do with ethnic background, who knows? The only ones that are a real problem are those Dead Heads like Boyd. At first I thought he was a fluke but, you’re right, it seems to be a pattern, and that could hurt us if it gets out of hand.” He shook his head. “So, I guess, we can’t risk having it happen to the Jew. Not yet.”
“Well, then the answer’s pretty obvious—we have to find out if he has any forensic stuff, find out where he keeps it, and then get rid of it. Simple as that. Steal his files, fry his hard drive. Your boy Polk’s supposed to be a computer geek, right? He could find out what the doc has stored. Delete it or some shit.”
Vic looked thoughtful as he sipped his whiskey. “That’s not bad. Another job for Jimmy-boy. And in the meantime I have to make a decision about Cowan and Castle. Much as we need soldiers we don’t need liabilities.”
“Let me handle that end of things. Those guys belong to me.”
“You mean they belong to the Man,” Vic said, a warning edge in his voice.
Ruger smiled. “That’s what I meant.”
(2)
Crow heard someone call his name and looked up from the hallway water fountain to see Saul Weinstock coming out of the elevator, his clothes sweat-stained and soiled and his face as gray as five-day-old steak. Crow stepped forward, offering his hand, but Weinstock clamped a hand around his bicep, spun him, and dragged him back down the hall to Val’s room. “We have to talk…right now.”
Once they were inside Crow pulled his arm free. “I’ve been trying to get to you all night. How’s Val?”
“She’s fine, she’s fine…look there’s something else I have to—”
Crow put his palm flat on Weinstock’s chest and gave him the smallest of pushes—not hard, but hard enough. “Saul…tell me about Val. Now.”
Weinstock blinked in confusion for a moment, then his face cleared. “Right, sorry, man…you can’t imagine the kind of night I’ve had. Can I at least give you the short version?”
“Shortish, but tell me something before the big vein in my head pops.”
“All right, all right…Val has a fracture of the medial wall of the orbit and a mild concussion. We did a CT scan and there’s no evidence of a subdural hematoma and though there is some damage to the maxillary sinus there’s been no blowout injury—which is a fairly common result of the kind of injury she sustained.” He looked at his watch. “I have a neurologist coming in at nine this morning to do a more complete workup. Val’s probably going to have headaches for a while, some loss of balance, double vision, maybe some short-term memory loss. We’ve been worried about retinal detachment, but it’s looking better, though we’re still waiting on that report from Dr. Barrett. I told them to page me the second he’s done with her, and they’ll be bringing her up here. Should be pretty soon. If the retina’s good, then there may not even be any vision loss. Considering the trauma she’s had, she’s got luck on her side.”
“Luck’s relative,” Crow said. “You told Sarah that Terry was lucky.”
Weinstock looked pained. “Yeah, well, around here any time a doctor gets to give news that’s not worst-case scenario ‘luck’ is a good word to use. Believe me, we don’t get to use it enough. But I hear what you’re saying, what with Mark and Connie and all.”
Crow gripped Weinstock’s sleeve. “What about the baby? I’ve been terrified to even ask. She didn’t…lose it?”
Weinstock brightened. “No, thank God. For a slender woman Val has the constitution of a bison. We ran every test in the book and even made up a few new ones, and as far as our OB resident is concerned everything is looking good. Even so, Gail Somerfield will be here later this morning and there’s no better OB-GYN in the
“Well, then the answer’s pretty obvious—we have to find out if he has any forensic stuff, find out where he keeps it, and then get rid of it. Simple as that. Steal his files, fry his hard drive. Your boy Polk’s supposed to be a computer geek, right? He could find out what the doc has stored. Delete it or some shit.”
Vic looked thoughtful as he sipped his whiskey. “That’s not bad. Another job for Jimmy-boy. And in the meantime I have to make a decision about Cowan and Castle. Much as we need soldiers we don’t need liabilities.”
“Let me handle that end of things. Those guys belong to me.”
“You mean they belong to the Man,” Vic said, a warning edge in his voice.
Ruger smiled. “That’s what I meant.”
(2)
Crow heard someone call his name and looked up from the hallway water fountain to see Saul Weinstock coming out of the elevator, his clothes sweat-stained and soiled and his face as gray as five-day-old steak. Crow stepped forward, offering his hand, but Weinstock clamped a hand around his bicep, spun him, and dragged him back down the hall to Val’s room. “We have to talk…right now.”
Once they were inside Crow pulled his arm free. “I’ve been trying to get to you all night. How’s Val?”
“She’s fine, she’s fine…look there’s something else I have to—”
Crow put his palm flat on Weinstock’s chest and gave him the smallest of pushes—not hard, but hard enough. “Saul…tell me about Val. Now.”
Weinstock blinked in confusion for a moment, then his face cleared. “Right, sorry, man…you can’t imagine the kind of night I’ve had. Can I at least give you the short version?”
“Shortish, but tell me something before the big vein in my head pops.”
“All right, all right…Val has a fracture of the medial wall of the orbit and a mild concussion. We did a CT scan and there’s no evidence of a subdural hematoma and though there is some damage to the maxillary sinus there’s been no blowout injury—which is a fairly common result of the kind of injury she sustained.” He looked at his watch. “I have a neurologist coming in at nine this morning to do a more complete workup. Val’s probably going to have headaches for a while, some loss of balance, double vision, maybe some short-term memory loss. We’ve been worried about retinal detachment, but it’s looking better, though we’re still waiting on that report from Dr. Barrett. I told them to page me the second he’s done with her, and they’ll be bringing her up here. Should be pretty soon. If the retina’s good, then there may not even be any vision loss. Considering the trauma she’s had, she’s got luck on her side.”
“Luck’s relative,” Crow said. “You told Sarah that Terry was lucky.”
Weinstock looked pained. “Yeah, well, around here any time a doctor gets to give news that’s not worst-case scenario ‘luck’ is a good word to use. Believe me, we don’t get to use it enough. But I hear what you’re saying, what with Mark and Connie and all.”
Crow gripped Weinstock’s sleeve. “What about the baby? I’ve been terrified to even ask. She didn’t…lose it?”
Weinstock brightened. “No, thank God. For a slender woman Val has the constitution of a bison. We ran every test in the book and even made up a few new ones, and as far as our OB resident is concerned everything is looking good. Even so, Gail Somerfield will be here later this morning and there’s no better OB-GYN in the
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