The thugs spotted the doctor and shuffled their way over. It was awkward moving with their boss strung between them but they managed. With minimal effort they hauled the body up and deposited it on the table like the good doctor had asked. "He's been recovering since his house caught fire." One of the men began, standing across the table from Jonathan. The other closed the door to the room to keep the conversation private. "On the way to the hospital we were attacked by the Corleone's. He's been hit and you were the closest clinic." The words did not have the ring of truth to them but then again the cover story didn't matter. Not in the long run anyway.
The scissors sliced easily through the bandages surrounding the man. The shocker was that beneath the fresh gauze was flesh nearly the exact same color. It then that the "Boss" started to convulse. When he did it was not from some life threatening complication but deep, guttural laughter that reached a high pitched crescendo. The boss sat up in a gesture that was all gangly limbs.
Strong hands removed a knife from the pocket of his coat and traced a line across the bandages encasing the man's face. There was a flash of red and a grin peaked out from behind the gauze. "Good evening Johnny-Boy!"