Chapter 234: Is the Reputation Loud Enough?

While waiting for the phone, the Tinkerer did not continue the surgery; instead, he casually asked, "By the way, Mr., I still don't know your full name."

The old white fat man said fiercely, "Andrew Saxon. Remember this name well."

"Is this name very famous? Will others know it immediately upon hearing it?" the Tinkerer asked curiously.

"Just try it and see if any gangsters or police officers here don't know me. If there are any, it only means they are not from Los Angeles," the old white fat man said with rare pride.

The white youth who returned to the operating room did not bring the landline phone the Tinkerer imagined; instead, he brought a portable phone.

It was already the year '93, and portable phones, later commonly known as mobile phones, were beginning to become popular. Although their functions were not as numerous as the smartphones of the twenty-first century, they at least freed people from the constraints of telephone lines.

Seeing that the mobile phone handed over was a German Siemens, it could be said to be the best mobile phone brand of this era, with an even higher reputation than those of Nokia and others.

The reason was very simple: its signal reception was excellent! At the same location, where phones from other brands might have no signal at all, a Siemens could still squeeze out one or two bars of signal. That was its advantage.

It could almost be described by the saying that in this era, Siemens ranked second, with no one daring to rank first.

"Do you know how to operate it?" the young man who handed over the phone asked, his tone carrying a hint of contempt.

"Isn't this simple?" The Tinkerer took the mobile phone, pressed the number keys for '911', and then pressed the green call button.

Due to the angle, only a few medical staff standing behind the Tinkerer could see. However, in the operating room, everyone was wearing masks. For a moment, no one noticed the strange expressions on those few people's faces.

The emergency center's phone did not ring for long; someone answered almost immediately. The Tinkerer immediately said, "I see Andrew Saxon. The location is the old industrial zone on the outskirts of Los Angeles, specifically at..."

The Tinkerer carefully explained the location of the warehouse they were in and the route to get there. At this moment, the old white fat man and his subordinates finally realized something was wrong. Someone raised a gun and shouted, "Who did you call? Who the hell did you call?"

Even Andrew Saxon, the boss lying on the operating table, figured out what was happening. He cursed loudly from the side.

Glancing at the young man holding the gun, the Tinkerer thoughtfully pressed his forehead against the muzzle himself, the provocative intent obvious.

At the same time, he grumbled back the questions from the phone, saying, "Who I am is none of your business; believe it or not. If this person isn't important, then don't come."

The Tinkerer, no longer interested in talking, did not hang up the phone but handed it directly to the young man whose gun was pressed against him. Returning the contemptuous gaze, he said, "I gave you a chance, but you didn't dare. You really are useless."

"What have you done! What the hell have you done to me!" the old white fat man screamed like a madman.

The Tinkerer returned to the operating table, slowly picked up the suture needle with forceps, and finally prepared to end this surgery. He said casually, "I just wanted to test if your name is really that famous, if everyone knows it."

"You see, perhaps just reporting the name Andrew Saxon, the police wouldn't even know who it is. By the time I finish the surgery, I could just let you deal with me."

"So let's take a gamble, Mr. Saxon. Gamble whether you really hold such an important status in the police's eyes. Or gamble that the police will be late again and never catch anyone. Do you have corrupt cops inside? You can't have none."

"If you haven't planted a few informants within the police, what kind of boss are you? You see, if something like today happens, it would be one thing if no one helped you block the disaster; but if there isn't even anyone to give you a warning, that would be pitiful."

The old white fat man roared viciously, "You unlicensed doctor! Do you think if you perform surgery on others and get caught by the cops, you'll be fine? Let me tell you, if I get caught, you won't escape either."

"If you finish the surgery before the police arrive, do you think you'll still have a chance to live? Don't think you can just leave me here and wait for the police to come."

"Hey, you guys, keep an eye on this damn sour radish! If his hands stop, don't worry about anything else; just kill him directly! Also, the rest of you, pack up, get the car ready; we are moving the base."

Andrew Saxon was also a decisive man; he quickly issued orders, causing all his subordinates to spring into action. Everyone ran to drive cars and move things; whatever could be taken was taken, and whatever couldn't be taken was abandoned.

And the white youth who had invited the Tinkerer, at this moment, was holding a gun, pressing it against the back of the head of this damn chief surgeon.

He had wanted to kill this guy long ago, but since the boss hadn't given the nod, he couldn't act on his own initiative. Especially when the boss's life was in his hands, if he killed the doctor, it would be unclear whether his true intention was to kill whom.

Now that there was an order, there was no reason not to act. So he stared tightly at the Tinkerer's movements.

The Tinkerer making this call was certainly not random. The operation of the emergency rescue center in this era was not like in later times, directly connected to computers. When a call came in, the applicant's data and approximate location would immediately appear on the screen.

The emergency rescue centers of this era relied more on the manual operation of operators. When a call involved certain important cases or special situations, multiple people might answer, but only one would respond.

What made Andrew Saxon, this white fat man, proud was that as soon as his name was mentioned, it indeed attracted the attention of the emergency rescue center personnel.

Not only did the center director answer simultaneously. From the background sounds, the Tinkerer also heard the instruction to transfer to the FBI.

This meant that not only the police might come; the FBI would also take action. And as long as the matter escalated to the federal level, it should not be treated as a false alarm resulting in no response...

Probably.

After the Tinkerer came to this world, he had only dealt with a small-town sheriff in Alaska, so he truly didn't know how efficient the LAPD was. Nor did he know if there were any crazy operators who would treat incoming calls as fake news and cut them off.

With the reaction from the emergency rescue center, the Tinkerer expanded his range of attention. This allowed him to hear the radio dispatch for emergency deployment of police cars several kilometers away.

The instruction received by the nearest police station was not to break in directly, but to first blockade the main routes leading out of the warehouse district.

The reason for not sending people to report the location and check the situation first was probably because when the Tinkerer handed over the phone, he did not deliberately cut the call. And the young man who answered the phone didn't notice this either; he was just anxious to point the gun at someone.

Andrew Saxon's speech and cursing were enough for the person on the other end of the phone to make many judgments.

(End of this chapter)