“No, but maybe they could use me as a secretary or something along those lines,” Tracy said. “We don’t know unless I try.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Kim said. “Remember Lee Cook who worked for me back at the Samaritan?”
“I think so,” Tracy said. “Wasn’t he that clever technician who could fix anything electronic and who kept all the sophisticated electronic equipment functioning at the hospital?”
“You got it,” Kim said. “After the merger, he retired. He’s building his own airplane in his basement and doing other odd jobs. But I’m sure he could wire me up with a bug. In that way you can be in the car in the parking lot listening in real time. Then, if need be, you can use your cell phone to call for the cavalry.”
“You mean so I could hear you all the time?” Tracy asked.
“Yeah, continuously,” Kim said.
“Could I talk with you?” Tracy asked.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Kim said. “I’d have to have an earphone of some kind. That might be a giveaway. I can’t imagine too many Higgins and Hancock employees wear earphones.”
“I could even record what you say,” Tracy said, warming to the idea.
“That’s true,” Kim agreed.
“What about video?” Tracy asked.
“Hey, maybe so,” Kim said. “I know they have some tiny cameras nowadays. Maybe that could be the documentation we’ll need for Kelly Anderson.”
“Mr. Billy Rubin!” a voice called out over the heads of the waiting crowd.
Kim raised his free hand and stood up. Tracy did likewise. An ER resident dressed in all white saw them and walked over. He was carrying a clipboard with Kim’s ER registration sheet attached.
“Mr. Billy Rubin?” the resident repeated. His name tag said: DR. STEVE LUDWIG, EMERGENCY MEDICINE RESIDENT. He was a brawny fellow with a ready smile and closely cropped, thinning, dirty-blond hair. “Did you know that bilirubin is a medical term?”
“No,” Kim said. “I didn’t have any idea.”
“It is,” Steve commented. “It comes from the breakdown of hemoglobin. Anyhow, let’s take a look at your laceration.”
Kim pulled away the four-by-four. Due to swelling, the wound was more gaping now than earlier.
“Whoa!” Steve intoned. ‘That’s one nasty cut. We’d better get that sewn up. How did it happen?”
“Shaving,” Kim said.
Tracy couldn’t help but repress a smile.
SIXTEEN
Monday, January 26th
Tracy shifted her weight impatiently. She had her arms folded and was leaning against the plaster wall of the upstairs hall. She’d positioned herself directly across from the door into the guest bath. She’d been there for almost five minutes.
“Well?” Tracy called through the door.
“Are you ready?” Kim’s voice answered.
“I’ve been ready,” Tracy answered. “Open the door!”
The door squeaked open. Tracy’s hand shot to her mouth and she let out an involuntary giggle.
Kim looked completely different. His hair was unevenly cut short, teased to stand mostly upward, and bleached platinum blond. His eyebrows matched his hair in color and formed a stark contrast with the dark stubble-covered face. The sutured laceration wrapping over the bridge of his nose and extending through one blond eyebrow gave him a Frankenstein look. He was dressed in a black, double-flap pocket corduroy shirt over a black T-shirt with black leather pants. He had a black leather belt and matching bracelet decorated with stainless-steel rivets. The outfit was topped off with a fake diamond-stud earring in his left earlobe and a tattoo of a wolf with the word “lobo” on his right upper arm.
“So what do you think?” Kim asked.
“You look bizarre!” Tracy said. “Especially with the black silk stitches. I’d hate to run into you in a dark alley.”
“That sounds like the effect I was striving for,” Kim said.
“You certainly don’t look like anybody I’d want to know,” Tracy added.
“In that case maybe I should swing by the hospital,” Kim suggested. “Maybe with this outfit they’ll reinstate my privileges without a hearing.”
“A doctor is the last thing I’d suspect you were,” Tracy said with another laugh. “I particularly like the tattoo.”
Kim lifted his arm to admire his handiwork. “Pretty cool, huh?” he said. “The directions guaranteed it would last for three or four days, provided I don’t shower. Can you imagine?”