“Yes, Mr. Mahoney, this is Wesley Chapel from Big Dipper Data Management, and I’ve just detected a statistical trend that I thought you’d want to know about right away . . .”
Wesley began a careful explanation of what he had learned. “And Mahoney listened like a dope fiend watching the Big H start to bubble in a spoon he stole from Mooky’s Diner because he doesn’t have any spoons left in his flophouse, and the neighbors no longer believe he needs to borrow some to play spoons in a jug band . . .”
“What? . . .”
“Lay it on me.”
“It seems that some of the scam artists you’re having me investigate are painting an unusually large radar signature with their data. Statistically impossible.”
“Like the queen yodels.”
“What?”
“Give it to me in English.”
“The only explanation is that they’re all working as part of a larger, organized gang of grifters who travel together. That means if you get another client who might have been taken in by one of the gang, they’ll be much easier to trace. On the other hand, it also means increased danger for any of your men in the field. I’ll keep you up to date as more comes in.”
“Bingle-schnapps.”
Mahoney hung up again. But didn’t take his hand off the receiver. He quickly dialed. Someone answered.
“Hello?”
“Get me Serge, toot-sweet!”
“Mahoney,” said Serge. “Don’t you recognize my voice?”
“Mahoney cogitated on what he was about to reveal, like a pimp deciding how to tell a hooker she’s been sent down the minors to work on her skin flute.”
“Who are you talking to? . . .”
DOWNTOWN ORLANDO
Serge closed his cell phone.
“Who was that?” asked Coleman.
“Mahoney thinks some of our targets are part of a larger, organized gang—specifically the dating bandits and that couple up ahead running for the hospital.”
“Speaking of which . . .” Coleman bent toward the windshield.
The couple reached the ambulance drive-up and made a slippery turn toward the building.
They sprinted into the emergency room, the place where people with urgent needs go to wait. It was packed with rows of un-cheerful people in molded plastic chairs, sitting for hours. A variety of injuries and malaises, but the most common threat was dying of old age.
Omar and Piper practically crashed into the admittance desk. “We need help!”
The nurse looked them over and didn’t see any bones sticking through skin. She pointed at the clipboard on the counter. “Sign in and have a seat.”
Piper leaned forward as far as she could. “You don’t understand!”
“Wait a second,” said the nurse. “I recognize you now. From the TV news.”
“I need cancer treatment!” said Piper.
“Sure you do,” said the nurse.
“I’m serious this time!”
“Just like last time?”
“I’m so sorry. I need help!”
The nurse yelled to get the attention of everyone in the room. “Look who just popped in to grace us with their presence: the scam artists from television. They’d like to get some medical care.”
A drone of murmurs rolled around the room. People began pointing. Mumbles rose to outraged voices.
“One more thing,” yelled the nurse. “They also want to cut in front of you.”
To this audience, that played worse than the original scam.
A few began standing. Someone called the television station on from a cell.
Omar and Piper pleaded desperately with the nurse. “We’ll do anything! You have to help us!”
The nurse had already picked up her own phone. “I’m calling security. The TV said there are fraud warrants out on you.”
“Wait! Don’t! We’ll give you all the money!”
The nurse hung up. “Security is on the way.” Then she sniffed the air. “Jesus! What is that god-awful smell?” She leaned over the desk and looked down at the floor. “That’s disgusting!”
“I told you we were sick,” said Piper. “This guy made us drink some stuff . . .”
Three security guards ran down a disinfected hallway.
But other things first:
The couple felt a presence from behind. More and more patients surrounding them.
Someone shoved Omar into the desk, and another pushed Piper. The rest joined in.
Security guards burst through double swinging doors on the side of the emergency room. They immediately spotted the couple but couldn’t reach them because of the growing mob.
Omar noticed the guards working their way through. “We have to get out of here!” He grabbed Piper by the arm and charged into the crowd. People grabbed and ripped their clothes. They each lost sleeves but pushed on.
