My Kind of Town
>> Arizona Memorial Stalling for time
He was 51, long past his secret op days. But taking action was required. And Navy intelligence officer Chuck Ryan was just the guy to take it. So when Muhammed Resurreccion stood up during the film and walked back up to the entrance holding his stomach, Ryan was already speed-dialing his partner Lt. Martin Luther Washington, who sat on the other side of the theater.
Marty saw Muhammed moving, then his boss up and in pursuit a moment before his phone vibrated. He quickly slid on the ear-piece. "Mm."
"Watch the three females. Stay on the line," Ryan whispered as he peeked out the door, saw Muhammed hurrying into the men's restroom.
Ryan saw Muhammed slowing, turning, pulled the door closed.
So when Muhammed looked back he saw nothing that made him think he was being followed.
Ryan stepped outside. "Marty, I think this is a good time for me to use the men's room."
"Mm."
Muhammed was not among the guys standing before urinals. So he was in a stall. Man, Ryan couldn't help thinking, this is glamorous work. "Movie just ended," Ryan heard in his earpiece. "People starting to file out to the boat."
"No movement here." Well, that he knew about.
Was this a business trip? Or was Muhammed stalling for time?
>> Queen's Medical Center
They were good, they were fast, and they made Quinn Ah Sun feel like Dale Earnhardt Jr. during a NASCAR pit stop. In no time at all Dr. Laurie Tang and her ER team had him cleaned up, stitched up, drugged up and on his way back upstairs to his room.
"Thanks," Quinn called as they wheeled him away, "I'll see you later."
"Not right away I hope," Dr. Tang said. Two visits to the ER in two days wasn't a record, but it was close.
The painkiller was really kicking in as they waited for the elevator. The doors opened and an attractive young local woman stood frozen in Quinn's gaze.
"Going up," the orderlie said.
"No, thank you," she said, gathering her composure, stepping out.
"Hey, Lil." His cousin Lily Ah Sun.
"Quinn ..." And words failed her. At least, there were too many words fighting to get out, and they jumbled up and log-jammed inside her head.
"You still owe me answers to two questions."
Lily owed him something after he re-injured himself saving her from the Samoan cabbie. "I'll stop by later."
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com