The White Room
THEY CAUGHT HIM at the corner of Nineteenth and Third. He had been heading for the East Village, hoping to find natural cover among the other crazies. An unmarked white truck pulled up beside him and three nurses jumped out.
"Decide to take a little walk, did we, Joe? We can't have that. You could get hurt out here."
When they grabbed him, he put up only a token resistance. He knew all three of them. They were burly ones from the nursing staff, well trained in the art of subduing patients. They threw him bodily into the truck, climbed in after him, and slammed the doors behind them; then they had the straitjacket on him and started beating the crap out of him. One of them had a leather-covered blackjack that hurt like hell.