Mike Hanneman followed his father down a corridor in St. Joseph’s Hospital. Leading them was a prim, middle-aged man in a white jacket, who moved briskly and said little. The overhead lights reflected off the well-polished floor and the silver plates of the numbers of the doors on either side. More doctors in white coats
Capturing Op Toral 1649L How far did we travel, Stevens? My guess it was fifteen, twenty minutes. Eighteen, twenty K, something like that. Recognise anything? Nothing, stinking fuckin’ rag wrapped round my eyes. I was out for a bit, pressed down on the back seat. Couldn’t suss anything out. South, I think. I counted five
