2.

Hardcastle hated hospitals, whether he was a visitor or a patient. He stared at the door separating the waiting room from where McCormick had been taken. He waited alone. The various police agencies were still scouring Tomas Lutrin's compound for evidence of El Toro's criminal activities. Only Joe Hayes was at the hospital, getting treated for his own injuries.

Touching his own face lightly, Hardcastle knew how much the removal of the bird shot pellets would hurt, even with a local anesthesia being used. He sat in lonely silence, continuing with his vigil.

"Milt? What are you doing here?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Hardcastle turned. "Charley!"

"What did you do now, Milt? And where's Mark?" Doctor Charles Friedman was a good friend as well as the Hardcastle family physician. He had patched up both men more times than anyone cared to think about.

With a jerk of his chin, Hardcastle indicated the emergency examination rooms. "In there."

"What's wrong with him? And you didn't answer me as to what happened to you."

Hardcastle quickly explained his own injuries. "As to McCormick, I don't know. He collapsed at the scene. They won't tell me anything."

"Let me see what I can find out. Wait here."

Hardcastle grimaced at his old friend, but didn't ask where Charley thought he would go, too grateful for the help. He tried to relax, picking up a six-month-old copy of People magazine and flipping through the tattered pages. Tossing it back down onto the table, he turned his attention back to the doors barring him from McCormick.

"Judge Hardcastle?" A blue-clad nurse appeared beside him.

"Yes, I'm Hardcastle."

"There's a phone call for you at the nurses' station."

Checking the distance from the doors as well as his line of sight, Hardcastle rose to his feet and followed the young woman to a white phone.

"Hardcastle," he barked into the receiver.

"Milt? How's Mark?" Frank Harper's voice could barely be heard due to a rumble of noise in the background.

"I don't know yet. What's all that racket?"

"The press. Collins notified them of his successful undercover operation. He's showing off the weapons found on site."

"His undercover operation?"

"He barely mentions the other agencies involved, much less that a civilian was the one undercover. He's taking all the credit."

"Collins can have it. But will he be able to guarantee that Lutrin and his men are kept behind bars until the trial?" Hardcastle asked, worried about McCormick's safety.

A heavy sigh came over the phone line. "Lutrin is a flight risk with a record as long as both our arms combined, so with any luck he'll be held without bail."

"I hear a but?"

"I sincerely doubt if all of the others will be. You might consider going away until the trial, Milt. I know you don't like to give the appearance of running, but it might be safer for everyone concerned in this case."

"I'll consider it." Hardcastle saw Dr. Friedman come out into the waiting area. "Look, I've got to go."

"Call me when you find out about Mark."

"I will." Hardcastle hung up. He moved closer to the waiting doctor, his head thrust forward. "Well?"

"Mark has some severe bruising on his torso as well as two fractured ribs. He's also beyond exhaustion and somewhat dehydrated."

"So he's okay?" Hardcastle cut to the most important point.

"He should be, if…" Friedman glared at his old friend.

"If what?"

"If he's allowed to rest and recover. I mean it, Milt. He won't tell me what he's been up to, but I know you. Whatever it was had to be dangerous."

Realizing that nothing would be served by keeping it a secret, Hardcastle explained. "McCormick was deep undercover for months, doing a job for the FBI. Watch the news tonight and you'll probably hear all about it, although I doubt that his name will be mentioned. It was definitely dangerous."

"And once it was over, Mark collapsed?"

"Yeah. Scared the crap out of me," Hardcastle admitted.

"Good, I'm glad."

"What?"

"I'm glad you were scared. Are you trying to get Mark killed? When will you remember that he isn't a cop?"

"C'mon, Charley, he agreed to this. The kid knew it was important and he damn well knew it was dangerous."

"And Mark would do anything to avoid disappointing you. You take unfair advantage of that admiration and respect. Someday it will blow up in your face and Mark will be one of the casualties."

Hardcastle clamped his jaw tight, managing to reply through stiff lips. "He has a strong sense of self-preservation."

"He'd have to, living with you. But that sense seems to lose out when it comes up against his admiration for you." Seeing how uncomfortable the conversation was making Hardcastle, Friedman decided he had made his point and moved on. "According to Dr. Caulfield, the attending physician, you should be able to take Mark home in a couple of hours. He's hooked up to an IV to replenish his fluids right now."

"Good, good." Hardcastle relaxed, his face creased into a sudden smile. If McCormick was being released that quickly, his condition wasn't life-threatening.

"Rest, Milt, he needs to recoup his strength. No undercover assignments, no high speed chases, no excitement of any kind. It wouldn't take much for him to have a complete collapse. He needs to sleep, to take it easy, to eat. Did you know that he has lost twenty pounds since he was last in my office?"

Hardcastle shook his head, shocked. "I didn't know. I only saw him for a few minutes after the raid."

"I'm depending on you to fix this, Milt. Otherwise I'll convince Caulfield to check Mark into the hospital until I'm happy with his condition."

"No, you don't have to do that. I'll take care of him."

"See that you do. And I want to see him in my office next week."

H&McC

Hardcastle helped push McCormick's wheelchair out to the waiting pickup truck. Although released from the hospital, it was obvious that the younger man was still exhausted, his face pale and pinched.

"Okay, kiddo, nice and easy." Hardcastle set the wheelchair's brakes before helping McCormick into the passenger seat. He thanked the nursing aide who had accompanied them outside before walking around the front of the vehicle and climbing behind the wheel.

"Where to now, Kemosabe?" McCormick asked before yawning.

"Home."

"Don't I have to give a statement?"

"Probably, but not today. We'll pick up your prescriptions, then you're going home to bed."

"'kay."

That lack of argument told Hardcastle just how exhausted McCormick actually was. Glancing over to his right, he saw Mark leaning against the door, sound asleep with his mouth hanging open. Keeping the radio low, Hardcastle continued with his planned errands.

Back at Gull's-Way, he guided a compliant McCormick into the main house and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Getting a glass of water from the bathroom, Hardcastle doled out the medicine. Once the pills were swallowed, he gently pushed McCormick back onto the pillows. He covered the already sleeping man with a light blanket and left the room.

Downstairs in the den, the Judge called Harper to let him know about Mark.

"So he's going to be okay?" the lieutenant asked.

"With some sleep and good food, he should be. What's going on with Lutrin?"

"Judge Reynolds agreed to hold over Lutrin and three of his top four associates without bond."

"But not everyone?"

"As much as he wanted to, Reynolds couldn't do that. Word is already out, however, that there is a contract on Mark, you and Joe."

"Us particularly?"

"Yeah, thanks to Agent Collins. Seems like you three are the reason that Lutrin is facing charges of attempted murder of a federal agent. That isn't setting well with some of Lutrin's customers. Brings too much heat."

"Does Lutrin know our names? Mark was working as Mark MacElroy, not Mark McCormick. And Joe and I weren't even there until the last minute."

"I don't know who told 'em, but he definitely knows."

"Great."

"Ready for more good news?"

"Not really, but go on."

"It seems that Lutrin's men are supporting his claim that he didn't know about the weapons, that they kept them a secret from him. There is no direct evidence to connect Lutrin with anything except the shooting of a federal agent. And that depends on what you and Mark saw. Lutrin is claiming that Mark had the shotgun and it was he who shot at you and Joe."

"What? The kid didn't shoot us!"

"Milt, they're printing the shotgun. If Mark handled it at all, we need to know the how and why. Did he take the weapon away from Lutrin?"

"No, once both shells were used, Lutrin tossed the shotgun away and pulled a knife. But I can't say that Mark didn't touch it earlier than that. I can say that he wasn't the one who fired on us."

"Good. That means that your testimony is key to getting Tomas Lutrin tied into all of this. Collins wants you and Mark in here immediately to get your statements."

"No. The kid really needs to rest. Nobody is getting near him until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. And if Collins wants our official signed statements, he comes out here for them."

Harper chuckled. "He won't like that."

"Tough." Hardcastle leaned back in his chair, spinning around to gaze out into the afternoon light. "Mark is in no condition to deal with Collins, not yet."

"I thought you said that he was okay." Frank's voice showed his concern. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Charley Friedman read me the riot act. McCormick is on the edge of collapse. He's also lost too much weight. I'm under orders to keep him resting, eating and calm. That means no confrontations at the police station with a special agent whose only concern is his own glory."

"Now, Milt, I don't like Bill Collins either, but he has had a lot of failures in trying to put Lutrin behind bars and break up his operation. You should know just how frustrating that can get."

"Maybe, maybe. But if he hassles the kid…"

"You'll take him out. Don't worry about anything, Milt. I'll let Collins know that Mark is under a doctor's orders. I'll give you a call before we come out tomorrow afternoon. We also need to set up some protection for you two." Trying to head off the usual protests, Harper continued. "It's either guards outside the gate or you two go into protective custody. And that certainly won't help Mark relax, will it?"

Hardcastle grumbled, but finally agreed.