On the way to the hospital I was diverted to a warehouse on the Miami River, where two brutes wearing 9mm pieces in Bianchi shoulder holsters met us at the door. "Adentro," one of them ordered, pointing toward a dimly lit interior, where I saw another guy standing near a large table. Reckoning that the dispatcher had communicated with these people, I didn't foul myself right there, but I did want to finish this quickly.
After we laid the "patient" on the table, the guy who had been waiting inside began cutting open the cast with a Stryker saw and removing bags of coke from the cavity. An extractor sucked up the plaster dust the saw kicked up, but bits still flew into my eyes. I was shaking. A fourth guy gave us an envelope for the dispatcher, promising more business. Later I told the dispatcher to stuff it his kind of action was just too dangerous.