The warrant for the surveillance of Cassel is gotten quickly.

More importantly, Bradley gets a judge’s order to expedite the retrieval of the hospital records on an emergency basis, and hospital administrative employees are served first thing in the morning and ordered to immediately get those records.

I’m sure that Galvis, and probably Cassel, are aware, or about to be aware, of what we’ve done. That’s unfortunate, but at this point there’s nothing we can do about it. There is simply no way to get the information without attracting attention.

Much to my surprise, I get a call from Mitchell Galvis shortly after the subpoena is served. “What the hell is going on?” he asks.

“You want to rephrase the question?”

“A bunch of storm troopers came in here this morning, demanding my people drop everything and get records of hospital patients, some of them two and three years old.”

“So?”

“So why is this happening?”

“Because I want records of hospital patients, some of them two and three years old. And I want your people to drop everything and get them for me. Which part didn’t you understand?”

“I thought we had a working relationship, Lieutenant. Rather than causing this kind of chaos here, you could have come to me.”

“Yes, I could have, but I didn’t.”

“Well, I don’t like it or appreciate it,” he says.

If Galvis is one of the drug conspirators, then he is giving an Academy Award performance on this call. And I have to respect it; instead of curling up in a panic, he’s taking the offensive.

“Let me ask you a question. You told me that Travis Mauer was never really a patient at your hospital, that he never really existed. Where did you get that information? Did you track it down yourself?”

He hesitates. “No. Someone told it to me.”

“Who might that be?” I ask.

“I’m not sure I should share that with you.” His tone has gone from aggressive to worried and unsure.

“Here’s the thing, Mr. Galvis. If you don’t share it with me, the next thing you’re going to share is a jail cell.” It’s an empty threat, at least at this point, but I’m hoping it will intimidate him.

“Is the information not accurate?” he asks, possibly stalling for time.

“Who told it to you, Mr. Galvis?”

“It was told in confidence.”

“This is the last time I’m going to ask. Who told it to you?”

“Our head of surgery. Dr. Steven Cassel.”