Chapter 14

Beep ... beep ... beep...

The rage built inside as the steady beeping tortured me. I promised myself I was going to kill the guy that invented that beeping thing. I soothed my ferocious self with fantasies in which I hunted him down and killed him, after pulling out his fingernails with a set of nail rusty clippers.

Ok - Fantasy aside.

Time to figure some things out.

I'm in the hospital.

Whoo hooo ... Look at me, I'm a genius. I figured that out all by myself. It was easy, once I took in the beeping torture machine, along with the white walls, floor, and ceiling.

I wondered if the rest of me was all there.

Arms??? Check.

Legs??? Check. OUCH! That hurt. My left leg felt like someone just set it on fire and drove a skewer through my leg so they could bar-b-q it.

Head??? Still here, who knows if it's all right. I doubt I've ever been ALL right.

I opened one eye, and the glare quickly forced it closed. Too many bright lights all at once. I did see what appeared to be a busy ER. People were flitting here and there, and in that split second, I thought I saw Rebecca.

I did.

"Carl? Caarrlll?? You there? Ollie, Ollie, Umphen-Free ... is anyone home?" That's when I knew I was going to be fine. Rebecca was way too laid back for me to be in any danger.

Without opening my eyes, I said, "Ten-four, good buddy!"

Her answering giggle was wonderful to hear.

I felt her hand on my chest, and cautiously opened my eyes. Rebecca was smiling. "You're fine, Carl. The bullet missed the bone, but ruined the good work that the doctors did at Springfield Regional. I'm afraid your rehab is going to be set back.

"Colleen, Jim, and several men from the federal government are waiting for you to regain consciousness, so they can talk to you about what happened. Beth and Brian came to the hospital with Colleen. They needed to wash and change, because you made them go jump in the lake.

"From what I can gather, Beth thinks that you are her hero. Brian thinks you're 'cool, ' and Jim has been having a cow over how the mob got your name and address. That discussion hasn't gone all that well."

I sighed and let my head fall back on the pillow. Rebecca hit a switch and raised the head of the bed, so I didn't have to hold my head up. That allowed me to relax a little more and take in what she had to say.

"Colleen and Jim are furious about the government endangering you three. Clyde Thorson came as soon as Jim called him, to act as go between, because they are NOT getting along. Colleen wants to scratch someone's eyes out, and Jim might still decide to let her do it.

"You need to pull yourself together and let them come talk to you, before Colleen and Jim get arrested and sent to Gitmo." She laughed, but I could tell it was serious.

"Bring them in. Let's get this over with," I said wearily.

Rebecca wasn't gone twenty-two seconds before three men, dressed in very expensive suits came into the room with Jim and Colleen in tow. They had that, 'I'm Important, ' air about them, and I doubted they would get along with me any more than they did with Jim and Colleen.

Rather than offer anything, I sat silent until Jim spoke. "Carl, Rebecca tells us you will recover, this time. I understand the bullet missed severing your femoral artery by millimeters, in which case we would be standing over your dead body, instead of interviewing you. I fully understand if you are not up to taking questions at this time. However, these gentlemen are quite concerned about your safety, and want to discover if other people are coming behind the three you dealt with this morning."

He smiled, but his smile was scary, instead of reassuring. Jim Bell was not a happy camper today.

I nodded to the man who appeared to be in charge, and said, "Hi. I'm Carl Fleming. You'll have to forgive my appearance, but I got shot today, when a federal agent leaked my name and location to mobsters.

"It hurt.

"If you want my advice, never get shot. It really hurts.

"To review where we find ourselves, GETTING SHOT HURTS. Your office got me shot and almost got Beth, Brian, and me dead. Someone in your agency gave me up like an old cow at the slaughterhouse door, and I want to know who, to whom, why, how, and how much was paid.

"That's where I stand.

"Now, how can I help you?"

It was clear that my greeting threw him of balance. That was good, because that was what I intended. He grimaced, smiled, thought for a second, then stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Special Agent In Charge, Robert Zinny. My two cohorts are Eugene Keeling, and Gilbert Hurst. We were sent to interview you about the intel you shared with our Director, but when we arrived at your attorney's office, we discovered that you were under attack at your floating home, and called in all possible resources to help."

It was a good time to interrupt and get the interview onto my agenda, which was who leaked my location, and almost got us killed? "If you want to help, Agent Zinny, you will mount an all-out, no holds barred, investigation into how my name and the location of my temporary lodging got out to thugs, who used the information to try and kill me. Their intention to kill me could have included killing an innocent woman and her fourteen-year-old son, who committed no sin other than deciding to come to Table Rock Lake for a houseboat ride.