Is My Name Famous Enough?

While waiting for the call, the Tinkerer didn't continue the surgery but casually asked, "By the way, sir, I still don't know your name."

The Old Bai, chubby man said fiercely, "Andrew Saxon, remember that name well."

"Is that a catchy name? People will recognize it immediately?" the Tinkerer asked curiously.

"Go ahead and try. See if any of those gangsters or cops don't recognize me. What If...? they do, it just means they're not from around Los Angeles," the chubby Old Bai man said with rare pride.

The young white man who returned to the operating room didn't bring the landline phone the Tinkerer had imagined; instead, he brought a portable phone.

By 1993, portable telephones, later commonly known as cell phones, had begun to become popular. Although they didn't have as many functions as the smartphones of the 21st century, they at least freed people from the constraints of telephone lines.

Upon inspection, the mobile phone delivered was from Siemens in Germany, arguably the best mobile phone brand of this era, even more highly regarded than Nokia and others.

The reason is simple: its reception is excellent! In the same location, other brands of mobile phones might have no signal at all, but Siemens can still manage to squeeze out one or two bars of signal. That's its advantage.

It can almost be described as Siemens being second to none in this era.

"Do you know how to operate it?" the young man asked, handing over the phone with a hint of disdain in his tone.

"That's easy." The Tinkerer took the phone, pressed the "911" key, and then pressed the green dial button.

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

The emergency center phone didn't ring for long; someone answered immediately. The Tinkerer said right away, "I see Andrew Saxon. His location is in the old industrial area on the outskirts of Los Angeles, specifically..."

The Tinkerer carefully explained the location of the warehouse and how to get there. Only then did the Old Bai man and his men realize something was wrong. One of them raised a gun and shouted, "Who were you firing at? Who the hell were you firing at?"

Even Andrew Saxon, the boss lying on the operating table, finally understood what had happened and started cursing loudly.

After glancing at the young man holding the gun, the Tinkerer thoughtfully pressed his forehead against the muzzle, his provocation clear.

Meanwhile, he grumbled as he answered the questions on the phone, saying, "What do you care who I am? Believe it or not. What If...? this person isn't important, then don't come."

The Tinkerer, losing interest in further conversation, didn't even hang up and handed the phone directly to the young man who had a gun pointed at him. He returned the gesture with the same contempt, saying, "You got your chance but didn't dare. What a useless piece of trash."

"What have you done! What the hell have you done to me?!" the Old Bai, fat man shouted like a madman.

The Tinkerer returned to the operating table, slowly clamped the needle with a clip, and finally prepared to finish the surgery. He casually remarked, "I just wanted to test if your name was really that famous, that everyone knows it."

"Look, maybe if we just give the name Andrew Saxon, the police won't know who I am. Once my surgery is done, I can be at your mercy."

"So let's take a gamble, Mr. Saxony. Bet on whether you really hold such an important position in the eyes of the police. Or bet that the police will be slow to arrive and will never catch anyone. Do you have any corrupt cops you've bribed? You can't do without them."

"If you don't have a few informants among the police, what kind of boss are you? Look, if something like today happens, it's one thing if no one helps you out, but if you don't even have anyone to tip you off, then you're really in a sorry state."

The Old Bai, fat man roared fiercely, "You unlicensed doctor, do you think you can get away with anything if you perform surgery and get arrested by the cops? Let me tell you, if I get arrested, you won't get away either."

"If your surgery is finished before the police arrive, do you think you'll have a chance of survival? 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 pickled radish and don't let him eat it! If he stops, don't worry about anything else, just kill him! Also, everyone else, pack your things, get the car ready, we're moving base."

Andrew Saxon was a decisive man, and he quickly issued orders, getting all his men into action. Everyone rushed to drive cars and move things; they took what they could carry and abandoned what they couldn't.

Meanwhile, the young white man who had brought the Tinkerer was now holding a gun to the back of the damned surgeon's head.

He had wanted to kill this guy for a long time, but without the boss's approval, he couldn't act on his own. Especially when the boss's life was in his hands, it was unclear who he really intended to kill after killing the doctor.

Now that he had received the order, there was no Reason not to take action. So he kept a close eye on the Tinkerer's movements.

The Tinkerer didn't make this call randomly, of course. Emergency call centers in this era weren't like those in later times, directly connected to computers. When a call came in, the caller's information and approximate location would immediately appear on the screen.

Emergency call centers in this era rely more on manual operation by operators. When a call involves an important case or special situation, multiple people may answer, but only one person will respond.

What Andrew Saxon, this chubby white man, could be proud of was that his name did indeed attract the attention of the emergency response center personnel.

Not only did the center director answer the phone, but the Tinkerer also heard instructions from the background noise to be transferred to the FBI.

This means that not only the police might be involved, but the FBI could also be called in. And once the matter escalates to the federal level, it's unlikely to be treated as a false alarm and result in a lack of police response...

Sure.

Since arriving in this world, the Tinkerer has only dealt with small-town sheriffs in Alaska, and he honestly doesn't know how efficient the LAPD is. He also wonders if there are any crazy operators who answer calls and then cut them off as fake news.

With the emergency call center responding, the Tinkerer broadened his focus. This allowed him to hear police cars several kilometers away and receive radio alerts about an emergency response.

The nearest police officers were instructed not to storm in, but to first block off several main routes leading out of the warehouse area.

The reason given wasn't to send someone to report the location and assess the situation first; it's likely that when the phone was handed over to the Tinkerer, the call wasn't intentionally disconnected. The young man who answered the phone didn't seem to notice either, as he was only in a hurry to point a gun at someone.

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