Miss Ming, she took the elevator down to the morgue; I, the intended victim, went to Emergency Room 4. I was surprised and probably a little disconcerted that it was Doc Brewster coming to do the work.
"Mac, you got mess back here," Doc muttered as he started working on my back. You've got debris from your clothes in your wound and its pretty well killed off this section of your back muscle. MacKenzie, you've been a pain in the neck for years, but I am afraid now that you're going to have an aching back for the rest of your years."
The Doc threw on a white jacket from a pile on the counter, scrubbed up and began to test my toughness.
"Daggumit, Doc. Isn't there something you can give me for the pain?"
"Ah, buck it up, MacKenzie." I could feel the needle as Doc seemed to be taking care to do his friend some quality work. Then he asked the question, "Who do think it was, Mac?"
"Doc, I really don't know. They were ready for me. They knew I would be there and they knew how to hit me and then get out of there before any one could intervene. I can't believe O'Hara's boys would risk going after a local cop. Had to be hired help from out of town. But O'Hara is the only one probably with the clout to bring someone in. Who else could it be?"
"Mac, I don't get it. How in the world does getting you out of the picture help anybody? Surely, they know that the whole homicide department has everything you know."
I had to think about that a bit. "Doc, that's it. What do I have that nobody else has? What do I have that nobody else has?" I started to drift a bit to trying to answer that question. But then the good old friend and doctor to the dead brought me back to the situation at hand. "Ouch! God, Doc, where'd you say you got your training?"
"Look, just shut up or a few minutes more then we'll go and get some bourbon anesthesia. I'll pay."
"D*mn right you'll pay, you old sadistic sawbones."