“Food Guy, Food Guy, are you okay man?”
“I don’t think so.” I felt as if I was in a tunnel with a train bearing down on me.
“Just lie still. I’ll get some help.”
“No, it’s okay. Just give me a few seconds.”
My eyes slowly opened. Papa Smurf and Larry were kneeling beside me.
“Don’t move too quick Food Guy. Just take your time.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“The guy with the busted nose was goin’ to the truck and the other guy was choking you. I fuckin’ whacked him on the head—sure did. Papa started blowin’ his whistle. They ran for the truck and peeled outta here fast man—sure did. I think some people over there called the cops,” Larry said.
“Thanks guys,” I said as I started to struggle to my feet. I could hear the wail of sirens closing in. “Where did you get the bat?”
“Ling-Ling. She keeps it near the cash register. We was eatin’ a bowl of rice when we seen those guys jump you.
I looked over to Tan’s Chinese Take Out and waved to the woman Larry had called Ling Ling. “I think we better get that bat back to Ling Ling. You guys don’t need to be hassled by the cops. And I know that I don’t need to spend another night talking with them. Take a hike guys. After the cops leave, go back to Ling Ling and finish your meal.”
Papa and Larry helped me start to navigate towards Tans. I gave Ling Ling her bat and thirty bucks and asked her to give the guys a good meal. She told me that I should go to the hospital. The sirens were almost on us. I figured when the cops didn’t find anyone lying in the street, they’d write it off as a false alarm. I thanked her again and took off moving as fast and as normally as I could.
A few minutes later, I found a neat little place called the Maple Leaf Motel and checked in as Fred Flintstone—no baggage, no car—paying cash—no questions asked—no explanations given. The room was actually clean and tidy with a flat screen thirty two inch RCA colour television and remote in working order, an apartment sized Danby beer fridge, a comfortable double bed, a working phone and dinky three-piece washroom. What more could I ask for? I locked my door, ate some of the junk food and then sprawled out on the bed. Before trying to sleep, I turned on the cell for Cooper’s return call. My ribs where No Name had nailed me hurt like hell—but I was alive.
Just before I dropped off the Blackberry vibrated in my pocket.
“Doc—are you okay?” Max asked.
“Bit roughed up,” I replied. “Sorry you couldn’t be there—maybe next time.”
“Where are you?”
I told him, but asked him to stay away. Bait doesn’t work well when it is obviously armed and dangerous.
Another New Twist