Strangers

Following emergency surgery, Tolk had been in the intensive care unit yesterday afternoon and all through the night. Christmas morning he had been moved to a semiprivate room adjacent to the ICU, for although he was no longer in critical condition, he still needed to be monitored constantly.
        When Father Wycazik arrived, Raynella Tolk, Winton's wife, was at her husband's bedside. She was quite attractive, with chocolate-brown skin and stylish close-cropped hair. "Mrs. Tolk? I'm Stefan Wycazik."
        "But-"
        He smiled. "Relax. I'm not here to give anyone the last rites."
        "Good," Winton said," 'cause I'm sure not planning on dying."
        The wounded policeman was not only fully conscious but alert and apparently suffering no pain. His bed was raised to a sitting position. Although his broad chest was heavily bandaged, and although a cardiac telemetry device hung around his neck, and in spite of the IV line that was dripping glucose and antibiotics into the median basilic vein in his left arm, he looked remarkably well considering his recent misadventure.
        Father Wycazik stood at the foot of the bed, his tension betrayed only by the way he kept turning his black fedora around and around in his strong hands. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly put the hat on a chair.
        He said, "Mr. Tolk, if you feel up to it, I've come to ask you a few questions about what happened yesterday."
        Both Tolk and his wife looked puzzled by Stefan's curiosity.
        The priest gave a partial explanation for his interest-though only partial. "The fellow who cruised the uptown district with you for the past week, Brendan Cronin, was in my employ," he said, maintaining Brendan's cover as a lay worker for the Church.
        "Oh, I'd like to meet him," Raynella said, her face brightening.
        "He saved my life," Tolk said. "He did a crazy-brave thing, which he shouldn't have done in a million years, but I'm sure glad he did it."
        Raynella said, "Mr. Cronin walked into that sandwich shop not knowing if all the gunmen were dead, not knowing if he might be shot."
        "It's strictly against police procedure to walk into a situation like that," Winton said. "I'd have handled it by the book myself if I'd been one of those outside. I can't exactly applaud what Brendan did, Father, but I owe him my life for doing it."
        "Amazing," Father Wycazik said, as if this were the first time he had heard of Brendan's bravery. In fact, yesterday he had spoken at length with Winton Tolk's precinct captain, an old friend, and had heard Brendan praised for courage and damned for foolishness. "I've always known Brendan's a dependable fellow. Did he also provide first aid?"
        "He might have," Winton said. "Don't really know. I remember regaining consciousness… and there he was… sort of looming over me… calling my name… but I was still in a haze, you see."
        "It's a miracle Win survived," Raynella said in a tremulous voice.
        "Now, now, honey," Winton said softly. "I did make it, and that's all that counts." When he was sure his wife would be all right, he looked at Stefan and said, "Everyone's amazed that I could lose so much blood and pull through. From what I hear, I must've lost buckets."
        "Did Brendan apply a tourniquet?"
        Tolk frowned. "Don't know. Like I said, I was in a haze, a daze."
        Father Wycazik hesitated, wondering how to find out what he needed to know without revealing the extraordinary possibility that motivated this visit. "I know you're not very clear about what happened but… did you notice anything peculiar about… Brendan's hands?"
        "Peculiar? What do you mean?"
        "He touched you, didn't he?"
        "Sure. I guess he felt for a pulse… then checked around to see where the bleeding was coming from."
        "Well, did you feel anything… anything unusual when he touched you… anything odd?" Stefan asked carefully, frustrated by the need to be vague.
        "I don't seem to be following your line of thought, Father."
        Stefan Wycazik shook his head. "Never mind. The important thing is that you're well." He glanced at his watch and, feigning surprise, said, "Good heavens, I'm late for an appointment." Before they could respond, he snatched his hat from the chair, wished them godspeed, and hurried out, no doubt leaving them astonished by his behavior.
        When people saw Father