“But you’re not insured,” Paul said.

Pia looked at him questioningly. Paul’s comment seemed like such a non sequitur.

Paul laughed at Pia’s expression of confusion. “I’m just teasing. Obviously the guy’s not going to let me near him. For sure you’ll have to do it.”

Pia smiled. It seemed that Paul had a sense of humor, too. “I’ll give it a try, but I’m not very experienced. Although he does seem to trust me.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Paul handed Pia a needle used to take blood samples along with a vacuum tube. He held two more tubes in his hand. He wanted to do a whole battery of tests.

Pia made a point of showing the needle to the man and made a motion as if taking blood from herself. The man watched her but didn’t respond. Pia went ahead with the process of pushing up the man’s left sleeve. In plain sight were a number of other relatively recent puncture wounds over various veins. Pia looked over at Paul standing on the opposite side of the patient. “Do you see these?” she questioned, trying not to be too obvious about what she was referring to. The thought went through her mind that the man was probably a drug addict.

“I do indeed,” Paul said. He didn’t elaborate.

Pia applied the tourniquet and went ahead with the venipuncture. The man flinched but otherwise didn’t complain, as if he were accustomed to the process.

After filling the first vacuum tube, Pia pulled it out and pocketed it so she could take the next two from Paul. She was pleased with herself as the process was going smoothly. Of course it helped that the man was thin, with good veins that stood out like fat cigars.

“Good job,” Paul said as Pia slipped off the tourniquet and then withdrew the needle. She handed off the filled tubes and the blood-drawing paraphernalia to one of the male nurses standing by. They had remained in the room in case they were needed. It had quickly gotten around the ER that the patient might be a physical challenge.

Taking out his stethoscope, Paul was about to go back to trying to listen to the patient’s chest. He motioned to the man that he was going to pull up the man’s sweatshirt, but before the man could respond, the sounds of doors crashing open and raised voices could be heard just beyond their curtained-off area.

“What the . . . ?” Paul questioned. He pulled the stethoscope from his ears and reached out to pull back the curtain, but it was flung back sharply. The runner yelled in fear and grabbed Pia’s arm as two uniformed men stormed in and positioned themselves on either side of the bed. Pia could see that the men were carrying side arms. She recognized the uniforms. They were Nano security people.

“This him?” one of them called out to someone who had yet to arrive.

“Yes, it is,” a familiar voice said.