Dad was a Cop

 208.

"Can we talk, now?" comes her SMS response.

Despite the hour and my fatigue I enter her number and press the telephone icon. She picks up on the first ring.

"Hi, sorry to bother you but two things have come up that concern me that I thought you should know about asap," she says in a slightly troubled voice, not in her normal calm and in-control tone.

"Sure, tell me."

"The first is that we finally heard back from the testing clinic about the experimental procedure and they have agreed to make an exception to their rules and protocols and use you as test case Alpha. This is big news and they feel confident that the results will be groundbreaking, even without the FDAs blessings."

As ecstatic as I should be over this news I return a simple 'OK' along with the follow on question of, "why is this so urgent?"

"Because their research data indicates there to be a radical drop-off in the success rate after a very definite post-traumatic period of time, in other words time is of the essence, worse, you are at that point right now, give or take a few hours."

Now having my attention I mutter a more interested sounding, "I see."

"But that isn't the main issue," she continues in an obviously agitated - or overly concerned? - volume, making a melodramatic segue from the first issue to the encore of the second.

"Oooo-K."

"Since your arrival at the hospital there has been a man, claiming to be from your insurance company, who has made regular weekly visits. Every Friday for eight months, usually just before noon, he has arrived, chatted up the receptionist and gathered as much info as possible without actually going through the proper channels."

She now has my full code red attention. I tell her so.

"He often tried to get your status from the staff but stayed clear whenever one of the agents was present." She continues.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about this?" I ask.

"I didn't think it was a particularly big issue, and as long as I did my part in ignoring his requests, as I know the others did, I didn't see any immediate cause for alarm, until yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?"

"He showed up at his usual time and when he discovered that you had been discharged he flew into a rage, screaming at the staff and rifling through papers and files."

"Hummmm, go on."

"I was down the hall and came to see about the commotion when he dropped one of the patients clipboards and reached down to pick it up." She tells me in a quiet voice as if the security level has just been elevated, "his jacket opened as he did and I saw that he was wearing a shoulder holster….and a…. gun."

I am silent in contemplation. After a pause long enough for me to consider several angles and possibilities, she says, back in her normal tone and volume,

"What kind of insurance agent packs a .38 in a hospital?"

"You know it was a .38?"

"My Dad was a cop. NYPD, twenty-six years. Yeah, Smith & Wesson."

"Roger that."

"Worth a call at 0430?"

"Absolutely, I'll call you this afternoon for details and to set a time for the procedure. Thanks you did the right thing," I say, adding, "did anyone else see his weapon, or feel in any way threatened by his actions?"

"No."

"Good, keep this quiet. Get some sleep, talk later, and thank you again. I owe ya."

"Please be safe."