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Doc Rochelle's Log, continued:
I didn't know what to do-I had a duty to my patient, but my family was threatened.
I didn't have the luxury of making a stand on principle.
God-dammit.
"What do you want to know, you bastard?" I croaked.
"I have a...need for him. I wish to know what drugs will make him mobile, stave off his pain, and allow him to think clearly enough to do what I want."
"And you need me for that?"
"Oh, I'll need some perscriptions written, of course-my own sources have turned up...dead, recently. I also need access to him. He's still under a police guard order. You can get me in, without the need for someone to kill the officer on duty."
I cursed inwardly.
I heard a low chuckle, as if the idea amused him.
"Why-?"
"Now Doctor, you don't really expect an answer, do you? You know (he said, in a low, conspiriatorial tone) if I told you, someone might have to kill you. And by the way, Manuel's air will be running out soon, where I put him, so let's get a move on, eh?"
He giggled again.
"Oh, that's right, you'll need the shot before you can move again, eh?"
I'll never forget that sound. It'll go to the grave with me...
"Are we in agreement, then?"
"Yes, Goddamn you."
I felt a short, stinging prick in my buttock, and slowly, movement started coming back.
So now I had to help him, not only for my sake and my family's, but for the sake of the best damn masseur in the 5 Boroughs...
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