I felt comfortable in her hands.One evening, my phone rang. “This is Dr. O'Connor. I haven't talked to you in a month. How are you doing, Alex?�...“Not too bad. I'm getting better with the remote control unit.”“Have you talked to any of the technicians?” she asked.“A polite young man we here yesterday with what looked like the same equipment you used. Pretty slick. He ran the diagnostics and fine-tuned a few things for me and re-synchronized my remote.”“Good. You know, I've written some. ‘Buck fifty.’ he grunted. I slapped a couple of dollar bills on the counter. ‘Keep it.’ I said when he started to make change. He nodded and turned back to serve another customer. I found a table where I could put my back to the wall and see the door. I could see whoever came in the door before their eyes could adjust enough to see me clearly. Not that I was too worried, I had a snub nosed .357 magnum revolver under my coat, and a couple of knives and a straight razor cached in various places. More

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