"Hi. How's the patient?"
"Morgan, what the hell are you up to? I've been trying to reach you. I finally called David and he said you'd left a message; something about Central America. Why the hell—?"
"I was trying to explain that to you Sunday night, but you were pretty far gone."
"Well, I ain't that far gone now, so I'm telling you to—"
"By the way," I interrupted, hoping to change the subject, "how're you feeling?"
"I guess I'll live. They let me get up and go to the bathroom now. They're saying I can probably go home tomorrow."
"That's encouraging." Thank God he was going to be okay.
"I also had a talk with Gerry, downtown. He believes Sarah was kidnapped, even if New York's Finest don't, so that means the FBI has jurisdiction. We're gonna get some action. They're trying to get a photo of that colonel, so maybe I can ID the bastard. But the consulate's giving us a lot of shit about it."
"Well, I'm tracking something down here. Between the two of us, I think we'll find her."
"So, what the hell are you doing?"