“What, you think they’re as nefarious as you?” Jack asked.
“Let’s hope so. If they’re all good little patriots for whoever is in power, we’re in trouble.”
“Okay,” the chief went on, “they do tax every fish that comes in, and there’s a new section in the database for recording everyone shipped in by these little boats, how much they paid, and where they went.”
“You got to love bureaucrats,” Kris said.
“Assuming they didn’t take a cut and forget to enter anyone,” Jack said. “Talk to me about Margarita Rodriguez, Chief.”
“She ain’t in here.”
“What?” Now it was Kris’s turn to yelp. “No, see if they misspelled her name.”
“We got a lot of Rodriguezes here, boss. Doing it by eyeball may take a while.”
“Do they have their profession? Jobs?” Kris and Jack said at the same time.
“Let me see. Spelling isn’t too good here, either. I could understand it from fishermen, but this guy’s supposed to be a bureaucrat.”
“A bureaucrat who weighs fish and knows what tax to demand for each kind,” Kris pointed out.
“Does ‘medico’ mean what I think it means,” the chief said.
“It probably does.”
“Well, M. Rodriguez was landed here four weeks ago. She was sent to the Central Employment Agency on Liberty Street.”
“That’s a big help,” Nelly carped. “The map doesn’t show a Liberty Street.”
“Peterwald types wouldn’t be all that hot for such a street. We probably need an updated map,” Kris said, “and we don’t need to go to Liberty Street; we just need to tap gently into its database. Chief.”
“I’m already there. Let’s see how they spell her name this time. Oh, they got it right. Want to bet she had to type it in herself.”
“That seems logical. Sal,” Jack said to his computer, one that usually stayed out of conversations unless specifically asked, “where’s that possible heavy-industry plant?”
“It’s farther up the coast. It’s got a heavy-lifting shuttle port right next door to it. That’s how it drew our attention.”
“You can hide the black cat in a deep dark hole,” Kris said, “but I love it when a twitching tail gets left out.”
“Let’s wait and see,” Jack said, and slowly headed the truck up the coastal road. Soon the road split into two streets. One was a lovely promenade along the shore, just the place for an evening stroll. The other, a block or so inland, was wider, badly worn, with potholes and had a heavy-duty railroad track down the middle to serve rows of warehouses.
“Let’s keep a working truck on a working road,” Jack said.
“We’ll draw less attention that way.”
“I’m in the employment database,” Nelly announced proudly. “Four weeks ago, our Doc Maggie was sent on a job referral to Bay View Medical Center.”
“And where is Bay View Medical Center?” Jack asked.
“On Bay View Boulevard, fourth road in from the bay,” Chief Beni announced.
Kris pointed to a blue sign with a white H. “Hospital,” she said.
“Yes, but that doesn’t much matter if she’s not there, people,” Jack said stubbornly.
“She’s working the night shift,” Nelly said. “She’ll be there until eight according to her work schedule.”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Jack snapped. “People in back, hold on,” he shouted as he made a hard left turn and headed up a hill.
There were a flood of complaints from the back, but they quickly died as the truck engine did its own imitation of death’s onset.
“It was doing great a second ago,” Jack said as he tried to cajole the truck up the steepening hill. It responded in chokes and fits.
“Folks, my old man had a truck like this,” Gunny Brown said. “I suggest we all get out.”
“I think the man’s right,” Abby said. It wasn’t long before everyone, even Chief Beni, was afoot.
Jack got the rheumatoid truck to the next street and turned down it before letting the truck coast to a halt and turning off the engine. “Where’s this hospital?” he asked.
“I think it’s the tall building at the top of the hill, next street up.”
“It is,” Nelly and the chief both agreed.
“This truck ain’t gonna make it,” Jack said.
“I can walk the rest of the way,” Kris said.
“Not alone,” Jack, Gunny, and Abby said in harmony.
“I’ll stay with the truck,” Chief Beni offered, eyeing the climb.
One Marine was left with him, a farm boy who offered to take a look under the hood. “My old man and his pappy didn’t believe that a truck ever had to die. Let me see what I learned from them.”
Kris wished him well and started hiking.
“Tell me, Nelly, where does Doc Maggie work?”
“She’s assigned to the Emergency Room. She often does a shift and a half. Things are pretty busy.”
“So we didn’t have to drop everything and catch her before eight?” Jack said.
“Quit grouching, Jack. She’s here. We were going by. Why not get her when we can?”
“Because, my dearest little princess, things tend to get harder as time goes by, and I’d rather save the easy part for last.”
“Assuming picking up Vicky’s BFF is the easy part,” Abby said with measurable doubt.
The Emergency Room was located on the east end of the building, readily available to traffic coming both from the harbor and from inland. At least in that respect, finding the Emergency Room was easy.
Then it got hard.
“You can’t come in here,” a young man in something close to a blue uniform told them as they approached where an ambulance was just pulling in.
“Why can’t we?” Kris asked with her best princess smile.
“Can’t you read the sign,” he said, waving a thumb over his shoulder at one that announced AMBULANCES ONLY. “Walkers have to go in the front door and see a nurse. She decides if you really need to see a doctor.”
“Don’t you just love bureaucrats,” Jack whispered out of the side of his mouth.
“None of us are sick,” Kris said.
“Then don’t come here,” the young guard said, cutting Kris off. “There is no loitering. I will call the police if you cause any trouble.”
“What do you say I break his arm,” Jack whispered, “then we take him in to see a doctor.”
The kid heard that and went for the pistol at his waist.
Big mistake.
In a blink, Gunny had him in a choke hold. Abby put a sleepy dart into his butt.
The boy went limp, and Gunny gently tossed him over his shoulder.
“Oh dear.” Abby sighed. “I think the poor thing done come down with the galloping punies. I do hope he doesn’t develop a terrible case of the falling-down plague from standing around out here in the cold night air. We must get him inside.”
Since everyone agreed, Kris led the way, following the last gurney through the double doors.
As Kris expected from experience, inside she found bedlam, only moderately controlled by the cool professionalism of the medical teams of doctors and nurses.
Still, it only took a moment before a person in green scrubs was asking. “What seems to be the problem with this young man?”
“I don’t know,” Kris said. “He suddenly passed out.” Kris hated the thought of lying to a doctor, so she told her a large part of the truth.
But, as so often was the case, Kris didn’t share anywhere close to the whole truth.
They laid the young man out on a table, and the woman began an initial examination. Kris took the opportunity to head for the central station. Jack was close on her heels.
“Could you point me toward Dr. Margarita Rodriguez?” Kris said to any of the five men and women working the station.
A tall, solid woman said, “Why do you need to know?” without looking up from the med board she was studying.
“I have a message for her,” Kris said.
“Give it to me. I’ll pass it along to her when she’s not busy,” the woman said, still not giving Kris so much as a glance.