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The Hundred Year PlanChapter 6 free porn video
Sunday, August 12, 2035, AM
Al awoke slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the pain. The disorientation was less than yesterday, but the pain was much more severe. They must have taken me off the pain medication during the night, he thought. He slowly opened his eyes. At least he could see today. He didn't have much experience with hospitals, but the room he was in seemed typical. There was a single bed, which was a little unusual, but a curtain that could be pulled around the bed was still there.
The bed was one of the new voice activated kind, with a back up console, just in case. He told the bed to raise his upper body and it did. All he had to do then was say, 'more' or, 'less' to get it to the angle he wanted. As the bed began to move, he couldn't suppress a small yelp of pain. His ribs hurt something terrible, and for a moment it was hard to breathe. As he reached a more comfortable position, the pain in his chest eased up and breathing became more normal.
Great, he thought. I can even smell things today. Not that being able to smell is so desirable in a hospital.
As if moving the bed was a signal, a nurse came bustling into the room. "Good morning, Mr. Green. How are you feeling this morning?"
Al recognized the voice of Nurse Roberts from the day before. "Good morning Nurse Roberts. I'm in quite a bit of pain this morning, but I can see, and my mind seems to be working better. I guess I'd say I'm very well."
The nurse looked at him and smiled. "The swelling seems to be almost completely gone from your face. Your eyes are all the way open. Can you breathe through your nose?"
Al drew in a great draft of air, then winced. "Yes, ma'am. I seem to be able to breathe through my nose with no problem, other than the pain in my ribs."
Nurse Roberts nodded. "That's to be expected. The doctor has left orders for some medication that will make the healing of the fractured ribs much shorter than it would have been just a few years ago. Within a couple of days, you shouldn't be feeling any pain, and within a week they should be healed completely. The doctor was in to see you while you were sleeping. He said you can go whenever you're ready. I'm not trying to rush you, but if you're out before noon, it will save you some money."
Al smiled a wry smile. "To be honest with you, Ma'am, being in a hospital is like being in jail. I can't wait to get out of here. I don't even have a pocket computer with me, and that is like going through drug withdrawal. I have to have my computer fix soon, or I'm gonna start climbing the walls."
The nurse sniffed as if she had been insulted, then left the room. Al picked up the phone next to the bed, and called the San Francisco Police Department. He explained who he was and asked for Lt. Slavens. Within a minute, Slavens was on the phone. "Good morning, Al. Are you getting out of prison this morning?"
Al let out a belly laugh that caused his ribs to remind him he should act with more decorum. "That's funny, Art. I just made a comment to the nurse that being in a hospital was like being in jail, and I think it made her a little angry. Yes, I am getting out this morning, can you still pick me up?"
Al could hear Lt. Slavens chuckling over the phone. "Some people just don't have a sense of humor. Yeah, I'll be there in less than an hour. I have another call, so I've gotta run. See you later."
All replaced the receiver and smiled. It was nice to meet someone like Slavens. Too bad it had to be something like this that brought them together. Then again, they would have never met under normal conditions.
With nothing to do for the next hour, Al began to go over the things he knew about his brother's death and the beating he had taken. There had been Japanese visitors to his brother's business just before he was killed and they had been intimidating. It was a Japanese who had set up the appointment with Al that had led to his beating. If a nosy neighbor hadn't reported something going on, he would have probably been killed as well. There was a definite Japanese connection here, but he couldn't figure out what it was all about. He needed more information, and he was the best there was at getting information, with the possible exception of HAC-N-SAC. That was his first priority when he got back to his computers.
Al called Linda to let her know he was getting out of the hospital, and she promised to come see him later in the day.
Al hit the call button, and a few minutes later, Nurse Roberts appeared. He asked her for his clothes, and was only mildly surprised to learn that he didn't have any. His shirt had been ripped off him, and his pants were badly torn, so the hospital staff had disposed of them.
He was wondering what he would wear to get home when the nurse again appeared. She brought him a set of green surgical scrubs, his own shoes, and an envelope with his wallet and wrist chrono. Of course his keys were gone. They had been taken with his car.
He was showered, shaved, dressed and ready when Lt. Slavens arrived. They went to the nurses' station, and Al signed all the papers to allow him to leave.
Lt. Slavens' unmarked police car looked like any of the larger family electric sedans you could see going about the city. It was at least three years old, and had picked up the usual bumps and scratches cars were prone to get in a modern city. It needed washing badly, and someone had said so in the dust along the passenger side of the vehicle. The inside was tidy, without the clutter Al had expected.
When Slavens started the engine, all thoughts of this being a family vehicle disappeared. Al could feel the muffled roar as the five-liter engine fought for life, then settled into a quiet purr. "I should have known the SFPD would supply their finest with the finest," he commented.
Lt. Slavens beamed with pride. "This isn't your standard issue police car, I'm afraid. Don't tell anyone, but I have a friend in the motor pool. The standard issue rig with this body style has a three-liter engine. It's good enough to catch most speeders, but I wanted something a little special. My friend took a five-liter engine from a confiscated drug car that had been wrecked in the final chase, super charged it, and put in a better, computer controlled, fuel injector system. This thing will out run anything on the road, including that little red sports jobbie of yours."
Al could understand his friend's pride in the vehicle, but was nettled by the remarks about his car. "I don't know about that. My car has a few little surprises itself. Maybe we could find somewhere to try out your theory after all this is over, provided we find my car, that is."
Lt. Slavens looked like a big kid when he answered. "Yeah, I'd like that. I really have my doubts about finding your car though."
They were both silent for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally Al asked. "Did you find anything out about Mr. Agawa?"
Lt. Slavens must have been thinking about the same thing as he answered immediately. "Not much, I'm afraid. There was a Mr. Agawa scheduled for a flight to Tokyo yesterday morning, but he didn't take the flight. He had made his reservation a month in advance, and paid with a credit card, so it doesn't look like the trip had anything to do with you or your brother. We're trying to find a local address for him through the credit card company, but it's the weekend and finding anything out from a bank on the weekend is nearly impossible. I guess we'll just have to wait for tomorrow if we don't get lucky on the caller ID."
Al told Lt. Slavens about his unusual visitor from the day before, describing in detail her ruse to get in, and their conversation. "I was never so angry with anyone in my life. She's truly a bitch, and I hope I never run into her again."
Slavens laughed until his sides ached. "I know this woman, Al. She's a friend of mine, and really not a bad sort. She was just trying to do her job. She didn't ask anything that was out of line, did she?"
"Well no," Al grudgingly admitted. "It's just that she lied to get in, then she came over and just held my hand without saying anything. Besides, I ran her out before she could get to the embarrassing questions."
Slavens shook his head and smiled. "Art, she probably didn't know if you were awake or not. She'd seen you in the intensive care unit the night before, and knew how badly you'd been beaten. I'm not saying you should give her an interview, that's up to you. But, if she comes around, talk to her. She's good people. She's also a real knockout."
Still looking doubtful, Al nodded. "After that trick in the hospital, I'll be damned if I'll give her an interview. I'll be nice to her though, so get that worried look off your face. I can be a gentleman when I try. I just don't try very often."
They lapsed into silence again, broken only by Al's, "Turn left at the next light," or "turn into the driveway on your left," until they reached Al's apartment. Now it was Lt. Slavens turn to be surprised. He looked over the old warehouse they had pulled in beside, then at Al. "This is where you live?"
Al laughed at the lieutenant's consternation. "It sure doesn't look like much, but it's home."
They got out of the car, and Al walked over to a man-sized door, set next to an old-fashioned freight door that slid to the side. There were a chain and a padlock on the freight door, but only an electronic keypad by the side of the normal door.
Al punched in a code and opened the door. He motioned Slavens to follow, and went over to a large freight elevator. Once they were in the elevator, which could have taken a fork lift with a full load, comfortably, he pressed the top button, and the elevator began to rise.
When they reached the top floor, the doors opened automatically. They exited the elevator and walked across a tile floor that was old but clean, to the door of Al's apartment.
"I have a keypad to actually open the door" he explained. "But, I also have a security system." He approached a grill, set at the level of his face and spoke distinctly. "Lamb little a had Mary."
He turned to Slavens and said. "If I'd said that phrase in the usual order, it would've allowed me to open the door, and it would've immediately called police headquarters and reported a break-in. There's also a key slot under the grill for my maintenance man, or if I come home in no condition to talk properly"
Al punched in the keypad code and opened the door. When he walked in the door, he felt like he had walked into a brick wall. "My God," he mumbled. "Someone's been in here. God, they've ransacked everything."
The lieutenant pushed Al aside and moved past him. From somewhere a revolver had materialized. He did a quick look around the asked, "Are there any other rooms?"
Al was shaking like a leaf in a high wind. "Just the loft where my bedroom and bathroom are." He gestured toward the flight of steps leading up, hoping that his new friend wouldn't see his hands shaking.
Lt. Slavens took the stairs two at a time, then did a shoulder roll onto the floor of the loft. He came up on one knee with his with his revolver sweeping the loft. Nothing. He could see the door of the bathroom on his right, and toward the rear of the loft. The door was opened, inward, and he could see a small sliver of the floor, and part of the vanity, but not enough to determine if there might be anyone in the room.
His heart pounding and face flushed, Slavens edged to his right and slid along the wall until he was near the open door. He got down on one knee, and peeked around the corner of the door. Nothing. Getting up, he entered the bathroom and turned on the light. In contrast to the rest of the apartment, it was totally modern, and sparkling white. It had all the conveniences, but it was compact and wasted no space. There certainly wasn't any room for an intruder to hide.
Feeling a little sheepish, Slavens went to the rail at the front of the loft. From there he could see the entire apartment. No one was there but Al. He returned to the first floor.
Al put the cushions back on his couch and chair, and motioned the lieutenant to be seated. He then went to his refrigerator, removed two beers, and took one to Slavens. They sat sipping their beers for several minutes before either of them said a word. Finally the lieutenant cleared his throat as if embarrassed and began speaking. "It's none of my business, but did they get what they were looking for?"
Maris
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