2. Inquiries

As McCall entered Mickey's room, a nurse moved out of his way. Mickey breathed in labored rales; his oxygen mask amplified the effect. A plastic drainage tube ran from Mickey's chest to a container behind the bed. McCall stood before Mickey and took his left hand in his. "Ah, Mickey, here we are again. I am relieved to say that I have seen you look worse, much worse."

Mickey gave a wink and the slightest curl of a smile under his oxygen mask. McCall surveyed his friend. He observed a large bruise above Mickey's right eyebrow and a bigger bruise on the right side of his rib cage. Any other bumps and bruises were hidden under blankets.

"Control is now aware that you are here. I am certain that you shall be receiving an old friend or two shortly. Before then, we should talk."

Mickey gave a slight nod and his hand went to pull off the oxygen mask.

McCall's hand stopped Mickey's. "No, don't talk. Just squeeze my hand. Once for yes, twice for no."

Mickey squeezed once.

"The officer on the scene said you didn't appear to remember what happened. Is that correct? . . . (one squeeze) . . . It is . . . (one squeeze) . . . Do you have any idea if you were struck intentionally? . . . (two squeezes) . . . You have no idea? . . . . (one squeeze) . . . Were you on assignment? . . . (two squeezes) . . . No. . . . (one squeeze). . . . Is there anything else you think I should know before I talk to Control? I can sense his people storming the gates. . . . (two squeezes) . . . Then I shall return shortly."

Mickey nodded and gave an "okay" wave with his hand.

McCall saw Control himself in the hallway. Control installed a Company man in place of the hospital security guard before he acknowledged McCall's presence.

"What do we have?" Control asked.

"No pleasantries first? No inquiries as to Mickey's health?"

"I'm aware of his condition. I even left a high level meeting when I got your call. Does that suffice?"

"In all the years I have known you, Control, no meeting has been anything but high level. On a Saturday evening, in those clothes, don't you mean a high level dinner party?"

Control glared. "So what happened to Mickey?"

"Mickey was hit when a taxicab jumped the curb."

"You mean this was just an accident? You called me for that?"

"I do not know for certain whether it was or was not an accident, nor does Mickey. However, I did believe precautions were advisable."

"Because?"

"The taxi driver, one Chin Wong Fo, fled the scene. Does that name ring any bells?"

"No, I can't say it does."

"Is Mickey working on anything which might invite this kind of attention?"

"No. Frankly, since the wall came down and the Ruskies fell apart, we're spinning our heels. Mickey's been doing mostly research -- the book kind -- of late."

"Oh, he must love that."

"Hey, at least he's getting paid. Cuts are coming, Robert. For those who don't learn to speak Arabic or Chinese, work will be thin. I couldn't be retiring at a better time."

"Yes, congratulations by the way."

"Oh, Robert, I know I'll see you at the surprise party next week."

"Right, well, about Mickey then."

"He'd do well to follow my lead. He's eligible for an early out, reduction in force."

"So you just want to ignore the fact that he's injured and we don't know if it is work related? He and you could retire and you can forget about this?"

"No, we'll follow up on the taxi driver, Robert. I'll let you know if I learn anything I can tell you."

"How reassuring."

"Take care, Robert. Say hello to Mickey for me."

"Yes," McCall muttered as Control beat a hasty retreat, "no time to say hello yourself. High level business, of course." He returned to Mickey's room.

"Hello again. Control sent his regards and left a friend behind. Are you comfortable?"

Mickey glared at McCall.

"Ah, yes, stupid question. Relatively speaking, I meant. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Mickey pointed to the phone.

"You want me to call your brother?"

Mickey shook his head. He waved his hand for McCall to give him the phone. Mickey punched seven digits and then began to remove his mask. His breathing labored immediately. McCall snapped Mickey's hand away and restored the mask.

"Don't be ridiculous. I can talk to whomever for you."

Mickey nodded as McCall listened to the line. An answering machine with a woman's voice picked up. McCall hung up. "I should be happy to leave a message, but first I would like to know what that message should be."

Mickey nodded.

"Is this a professional colleague? . . . (two squeezes) . . . A friend, then? . . . (one squeeze) . . . Would you like me to inform her of what happened and your whereabouts? . . . (one squeeze) . . . Were you meeting this woman tonight? . . . (one squeeze) . . . Is this . . . serious? . . . (no squeezes). . . ." McCall eyed Mickey suspiciously. "I shall take care of it for you immediately after I leave. You rest now. I shall see you in the morning."

McCall walked to an empty room down the hall where he used his cell phone to dial the number Mickey called. The machine answered again.

"Hello. My name is Robert McCall. I am a friend of Mickey Kostmayer. He was struck by a car this afternoon and has been hospitalized. He asked me to call you. Please give me a call at this number."

McCall then left the hospital. On his way home, he picked up take-out for dinner. As he ate it in his kitchen, he wondered about Mickey. McCall had seen little of Mickey in the last two months. He had assumed that Company business consumed his time. Halfway into his meal, the phone rang.

"Is this Mr. McCall?"

"Yes, this is Robert McCall."

"This is Elise Cantrell. You left me a message about Mickey. How is he?"

"He will be fine."

"What hospital is he at?"

"Downtown Hospital."

"How was he hurt?"

"He has a concussion, badly bruised ribs and a collapsed lung."

"Oh, Jesus. I'll go right there."

"No visitors will be admitted until morning."

"I can get in."

"Perhaps, but I think a night's rest would serve him better."

"You're sure he'll be okay?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

"I would prefer to tell you that in person, if you don't mind."

"Mr. McCall, I know what Mickey does for a living. Was this not an accident?"

"I would be much more comfortable discussing this in person. How about if we meet first thing in the morning and then I shall take you to see Mickey afterward?"

"Is there some reason I can't go myself?"

"Mickey is under guard. Without approval of the Company, you shall be denied admission."

"I see. Would it be possible for me to meet you tonight?"

"It's late, but if you would like, yes. Where?"

"Anywhere you want."

"Are you familiar with Phalen's Pub?"

"I know it. I can be there in half an hour. How will I recognize you?"

"Just tell Pete that you're waiting to see me."

"Okay."

McCall trashed the remainder of his food and headed to the pub. He hailed a taxi to avoid the challenge of parking legally on a Saturday night. As he rode, he considered that Mickey's friend knew Phalen's. He assumed Mickey had taken her there. If time permitted, he hoped Pete could tell him something about her.

When McCall arrived, Pete pointed him out to an attractive, fit brunette of medium height. The woman nodded and approached. "Elise Cantrell," she said and thrust out her hand.

Robert observed, first, that her handshake was exceedingly firm. Second, he noticed a familiar bulge under her jacket.

"Robert McCall. I am delighted to meet you, Ms. Cantrell."

"It's Elise. The same."

Robert pointed her toward an empty table.

"What happened to Mickey?"

"He was struck by a taxicab in Chinatown."

"You don't think it was an accident?"

"The police do not yet know. The driver fled the scene and remains at large."

"What do they know about the driver?"

"They believe he might be an illegal immigrant, an Asian."

"Any witnesses?"

"Before we discuss details, I would like to ask you a few questions."

"Shoot."

"Ah yes, on that topic, may I ask if you carry a license for that weapon?"

"I do."

"I see. How did you meet Mickey?"

"We crossed paths on an interagency job."

"You work for whom?"

"The Bureau."

"Indeed?"

"You want to see my i.d.?"

"No, I don't put much stock in paper."

"Me neither."

"Tell me more about you and Mickey."

"Mr. McCall, . . ."

"Robert, please."

"Do you really need to vet me before I can go see Mickey?"

"Elise, as you must know, in this business we are all targets at times. When we are targets, those around us often become targets."

"I can take care of myself, Mr. McCall."

"I'm sure. You should understand that not having met you previously, I had no way to know that. I knew nothing of you."

"Mickey and I have been seeing each other intermittently for about three months now. That's shy of needing to report to friends and family."

"Or too busy to come up for air?" McCall smiled.

"Look, will you get me in to see him in the morning?"

"Yes, on the condition that you join me for a drink, dinner too, if you haven't eaten already."

"No, I haven't. Mickey and I were going to see a movie in Chinatown and then planned to grab a bite after." Their conversation stalled as a waitress came and took their drink orders, for McCall a scotch, for her a Negroni.

"You were going to see a movie in Chinatown?"

"It's a Jackie Chan film festival, his old movies, in Chinese with English subtitles. Well, English might be an exaggeration."

"Mickey's affinity for that kind of cinema shall always perplex me."

"That's a common bias, but if you were to watch, you'd see that Jackie Chan's movies are choreographed better than most Hollywood musicals ever were. You just have to look past the plots. It's more Keaton and Chaplin than anything else out there today."

"Ah, yes, if you say so." The waitress interrupted a dead-end conversation by bringing drinks and taking Elise's food order.

"Moving back to Mickey, were there any witnesses?" Elise asked.

"Just one. The witness saw the cab jump the curb, but didn't think it was anything more than reckless driving."

"You think the likelihood of that is what?"

"Mickey is not accident prone. His reflexes are among the best I've had the privilege to work with."

"Maybe that's why nothing broke; he saw it coming?"

"Possibly, but Mickey has no memory whatsoever of the accident."

"Oh. That's too bad."

"Elise, I have known Mickey a very long time. He is like a son to me."

"Look, I'm sorry if you feel left out of the loop because Mickey didn't bring me to meet his surrogate daddy yet. We aren't at that stage!" McCall thought her protest a little forced.

"I did not suggest that my approval is necessary to your relationship. I only meant to convey to you that I have Mickey's back."

"Mr. McCall, given what I know about you, I couldn't be happier about that. One question, though. Does that leave me with his front? Cause I kinda like his tush."

"Well, um," McCall muttered uncomfortably, then raised his drink. "To Mickey's fast recovery."

"Hear, hear. And to getting to the bottom -- in the non-tush sense -- of what happened."

"Yes."

"I assume the Company is following up?"

"Yes, although the police shall retain official jurisdiction for the time being."

"I could run a check on the driver's status with a phone call."

"That ground is covered."

"I suppose I knew that." As she spoke, Elise Cantrell's overdressed, wilted salad arrived. "Jesus, what was I thinking, ordering a salad here?"

McCall grinned. "It was that, my dear, that worried me most about you."

Elise Cantrell smiled back. "Never had more than a nightcap here. Guess I should have known." She leaned in close to McCall, "If I didn't know how many people in here packed, I might shoot it."

"I would support you if you did so." Robert waved to the waitress. "Sandra, bring my friend here a hamburger. How do you prefer it cooked?"

"Rare."

"For safety's sake, I would make it medium rare."

"Like the man says." The waitress nodded and left.

"How long have you been with the Bureau?"

"Right out of college."

"You like it?"

"Some days yes, some days no. Some administrations more than others. You know how that goes."

"I do indeed."

"I know Mickey's walked away a number of times. His boss drives him crazy."

"Control can be a bit difficult."

"Still, Mickey's gone back every time."

"A quiet life ill suits Mickey."

"I have no illusion that it would."

"When you said that you and he 'crossed paths,' what did that mean?"

"That's classified, I'm afraid."

"You work in the field, then?"

"Yes."

"I see. Your specialty?"

"Organized crime."

"That covers much of the Bureau's efforts these days. What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"There isn't much of it."

"Do you have family in New York?"

"No."

"Elsewhere?"

"Not really."

"Ah, the job is your life," Robert said. As he said it, he thought he'd glimpsed a dark shadow cross her face. "This line of work can be all consuming." Elise didn't bite at the bait. "I know first hand. It consumed my marriage. It also preempted my efforts at fathering."

"It's a job tailor-made for selfish singles."

"Is that how you see yourself?" She didn't answer McCall. "Because frankly, I don't think you mean that sincerely at all."

"No, I guess not. I only mean that once you understand it's not a great family job, it's best to avoid those kinds of entanglements."

"So you are resolved to a solitary life style?"

"It isn't always that way."

"Ah yes, but with Mickey you are safe, both of you, because you know that ultimately your work will pull you apart before there is any threat of serious entanglement."

Elise Cantrell shrugged.

"I have had the experience. Still, I do wish more for Mickey."

"You see him pushing a lawnmower on the Island?"

"Mickey is quite versatile, though he is and probably always shall be a city boy. However, he could do many other things for a living and do quite well if he put his mind to it."

"Maybe he likes the steady paycheck."

McCall dismissed the idea with a look. "What is it that keeps you in this business?"

"I still believe in justice."

"As do I. There are, however, many other ways to pursue it."

"This is the one I know and respect, for all its failings."

"You are on a mission, then?"

"The system is all that divides the criminals from the good guys. Take away the system and the line between vigilante and justice becomes too blurred, at least for me."

"I have seen our government agencies blur that line unforgivably time and time again."

"I won't claim it doesn't happen, but in our neck of the woods, I like to think it's the exception. I understand that the Company operates differently."

"Yes. On numerous occasions, I have been used, and Mickey has been used, in ways that are atrocious to us now."

"You chose to leave. He hasn't. I'm in no position to debate it."

"I suppose you're right. That would be my agenda."

"You'll have to take it up with him, then, not that I disagree," Elise Cantrell winked. Her burger arrived. She dove in hungrily and conversation ceased. When she finished, she looked at her watch and rose. "Oh, Christ, I've got an early morning and I'd like to see Mickey first thing, so please excuse me if I run. It was a pleasure meeting you. I trust you'll keep a keen eye on Mickey's back."

McCall had barely stood up to say goodbye when she took off. He liked her, yet something about Elise Cantrell worried him.