Rickard stood up off the gurney and studied himself in a full-length mirror riveted to the wall of the consulting room. Apart from the crisscrossed bandages, he still struck quite an imposing figure. He’d changed his looks, but this time without the need of Rothman’s expertise. His latest disguise was purely cosmetic. He thought that his newly shaved head gave him a tough look that the bruising on his face actually helped. Turning from his reflection, he pulled on a black T-shirt emblazoned with a Gothic image for a rock band he’d never heard of. He let the shirt hang outside his jeans to cover the blade clipped on his belt. Then he shrugged into a black leather motorcycle jacket that had a contrasting red collar and stripes down the sleeves. Lastly he thumbed a pair of wraparound shades on.

“What do you think?”

“If I was a woman I’d have you back on that gurney in a flash.”

Rickard grinned. “No wonder you got yourself struck off, Doc!”

Rothman seemed pleased with that. He fed a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He held it out to Rickard. “Here.”

“You got it for me.” Rickard eyed the handwritten address, a smile playing over his lips. He folded it over and placed the note in his hip pocket.

“Cost you.”

Rickard dug another stack of bills from his jacket pocket and handed them over. “I didn’t think you’d be able to get this for me. Not now you’re the pariah of the medical world.”

Rothman nipped his bottom lip between his nicotine-stained teeth. Then he nodded at the out-of-date certificate displayed on his wall. “I called Cedars. Asked. Simple as that, when you have letters after your name. No one checks credentials these days, especially not a first-year intern who’s already done a twenty-three-hour shift with God knows how many more before he gets to go home.”

“Letters after your name.” Rickard read Rothman’s glowing endorsements as he shoved his handgun into his waistband. “Just make sure RIP doesn’t join them, Doc. I might need you again before long.”

“I’m pretty fond of the green stuff,” Rothman reassured him, “and I don’t intend dying anytime soon.”

“Both things we have in common,” Rickard said. He clapped a hand on the doctor’s shoulder as he passed him by. “Take it easy, Doc.”

“You too, Luke. You know how badly the cops are searching for you, right?”

“Keeps life interesting.”

“Hey, when you find her, give your wife a kiss for me, will ya?”

Rickard lifted his sunglasses and peered back at the doctor from the doorway. “That I will do, Doc.”