Slythe had no problem finding the room. Billy Barnett was checked into the hospital under the name Mark Weldon, and the nurse at admitting was very helpful. She told Slythe that he had no visitors, but she looked up his room number to find that out, and she made no secret of it. Mark Weldon was in room 608.
Slythe went out, walked around the hospital, and came in another entrance. He walked up to the desk and said, “Outpatient surgery?”
“Third floor.”
Slythe nodded his thanks and walked onto the elevator. He didn’t get off on three, however, but went up to six and located the patients’ wing. He walked down the hall toward 608, looking for an unlocked supply closet. He found one right off the bat. He slipped in, closed the door, and locked it.
He couldn’t find a doctor’s coat, but there were sets of scrubs folded on a shelf. He shrugged off his clothes, stashed them behind a hamper in the corner, and put on some scrubs.
He looked around and found a surgical cap. He put it on and tucked his hair into it. It wouldn’t fool Billy Barnett, who would no doubt recognize him as the phony prop man, but it should work on anyone else.
He grabbed a clipboard as a useful prop. Somehow it made him feel more official.
He didn’t bother looking for a scalpel. He had his razor. He retrieved it from his pile of clothes and slid it into the pants pocket of his scrubs.
He peeked out the door to make sure no one was coming, and slipped out into the hallway.
Teddy got off the phone, thinking hard. He had to reassess the situation. What Marsha had told him completely changed the game. A guy—a mobster—named Sammy Candelosi thought Pete Genaro had hired Teddy to take him out.
That was just what Teddy was looking for: someone else with a reason to kill him.
So Sammy Candelosi knew Pete Genaro had called him, but not from Marsha. Candelosi’s goon had pumped her for information because he already knew Genaro had tried to hire him. Which meant Pete Genaro had a leak in his organization. It didn’t matter who it was. As long as there was a traitor, Teddy could exploit it for his own purposes. Which included taking out Sammy Candelosi. Ironically, by trying to eliminate a threat, Sammy Candelosi had merely activated one.
The pieces were falling into place. The fire could have been set by anyone, but the attack at the construction site had been Sammy Candelosi’s doing. It was carried out by someone who knew that Billy Barnett and Mark Weldon were one and the same person. Sammy Candelosi had just learned that.
Teddy sucked in his breath. That brought up another real possibility. Sammy Candelosi had tried to kill Mark Weldon because he found out Mark Weldon was Billy Barnett. Sammy believed Billy Barnett had been hired to kill him, and would have even more reason to do it now. And Teddy was checked into the hospital under the name Mark Weldon. There was nothing to stop Sammy Candelosi from having him killed in his bed as he lay there helplessly with his leg in traction.
Teddy needed a gun. He didn’t want to alarm Peter, but he didn’t want to die in his bed either. The thing was, aside from the Barringtons and the Bacchettis, Teddy was hard-pressed to think of anyone who knew the situation and could provide him with one.
The answer was Mike Freeman. Teddy hated to bother him without being able to produce Nigel Hightower, but this was a special situation. Teddy reached for the phone.
The door opened and a man in scrubs with a clipboard came in. Even in his drugged state, Teddy was suddenly on high alert. There was nothing he could put his finger on, but from his years of experience at the CIA, Teddy knew instinctively that something was wrong. This man was not a doctor.
Teddy braced himself for the attack.
The man had the upper hand, but Teddy had the element of surprise. The hit man wouldn’t be expecting any resistance. Not from a cripple in bed who had no idea an attack was coming.
The man in scrubs set down the clipboard and approached the bed.
Teddy had his hand on the bedpan. It was unused, but it was under the sheets. The nurse had left it there so he would have easy access. Under the cover of the sheet, he slid it off the bed so that it hung down the side, firmly gripped in his left hand.
The man stepped back and smiled. “You planning to hit me with that bedpan? I’d rather you didn’t. Mike Freeman sent me. Peter Barrington’s concerned for your safety and hired Strategic Services for security. If someone wants to kill you, they’ll have to go through me.”
Teddy grinned and handed him the bedpan. “You want to set this over there? I’m tired of looking at the damn thing.”