"Thought you said he was mortally wounded."

"He was, Mister Dresden," Marcone said, his features remote. "He was."

"He survived."

"The surgeons at Cook County thought it a bona fide miracle. Naturally I thought of you at once."

I rubbed at my chin. "What else has he said?"

"Nothing," Marcone said. "He has no memory of the events after he saw the ambulance arriving."

"So you want me to talk to the EMTs. Why haven't you done it yourself?" I asked.

He arched his brows. "Dresden. Try to keep in mind that I am a criminal. For some reason it's quite difficult to get people in uniforms to open their hearts to me."

I gritted my teeth at another agonizing twinge from my leg. "Right."

"So," he said, "we're back to my original question. How serious is your injury?"

"I'll make it," I said.

"Do you think you'll need to see a doctor? If it's too mild a wound, I'll be glad to have Miss Gard make it look more authentic."

I looked at him for a moment. "I'm heading for an emergency room whether I need it or not, eh?"

"As luck would have it, we are near a hospital. Cook County, in fact."

"Yeah. The cut's pretty deep." I looked at the piece of paper and then stuck it in my pocket. "There's bound to be an EMT or two there. Maybe you should drop me off at the emergency room."

Marcone smiled, and it didn't touch his eyes. "Very well, Dresden. You have my deepest sympathies for your pain."

Chapter Nineteen

Marcone and company dropped me off a hundred yards from the emergency entrance to the hospital, and I had to hobble in alone. It was hard, and I was tired, but I'd been hurt worse before. It wasn't like I wanted to do this every day or anything, but after a certain point of ridiculous discomfort, the pain all feels pretty much the same.

Once I made it to the emergency room, I was a big hit. When you drag yourself inside panting and leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind you, it makes a certain impression. I had an orderly and a nurse helping me onto my stomach on a gurney within a few seconds while the nurse examined the wound.

"It isn't life-threatening," she reported after she cut away my pant leg and took a look. She glanced at me almost in accusation. "From the way you came in here, you'd think this almost killed you."

"Well," I said, "I'm kind of a wimp."

"Nasty," commented the burly orderly. He produced a clipboard layered in forms and a ballpoint pen and handed them both to me. "They'll have to cut this out."

"We'll let the doctor decide that," the nurse said. "How did this happen, sir?"

"I have no clue," I said. "I was walking down the street and all of a sudden I thought my leg was on fire."