It should have been sutured immediately. Why didnt you come to me?
I already told you, the less you know of my whereabouts last evening, the better off youll be.
This happened last night? At Krugers compound?
No comment.
His features tightened. How did it happen? Who did this to you?
The angry, possessive note in his voice startled Melanie. Theyd only known each other a few days, but theyd bonded through their mutual concern for Angel. Their friendship had developed rapidly during the crisis, which was unusual for Melanie. She didnt make friends easily or quickly, although her reckless behavior in high school had made her quite popular for a time, she thought dryly.
No one did it to me. It was an accident. Lets just forget it.
Easy to say until you develop a nasty infection, Dr. Wilder scolded. Now hold still.
The door opened and Blanca, Dr. Wilders nurse, stuck her head around the corner. Tossing back her long black hair, she eyed them curiously for a moment before she spoke. She was a young woman, Melanies age perhaps, with delicate features and a curvaceous figure reminiscent of old Hollywood. The word lush always came to mind when Melanie saw her.
But Blancas eyes were her most striking feature. Dark, wide and soulful, they glinted with suspicion every time she turned her gaze on Melanie.
The womans instant and overt animosity was something Melanie still didnt understand.
There is a man here to see you, Doctor, Blanca said in Spanish.
English, please, Blanca. Dr. Wilder barely glanced up. What does he want?
He still held Melanies hand, and Blancas curiosity turned into a scowl of disapproval as she continued to observe them from across the room. He said it was official business. A matter of extreme importance, she said in heavily accented English.
Hell have to come back. Dr. Wilder released Melanie and began gathering supplies to suture her wrist.
Wait a minute, Melanie said. He could be with the Ministry of Health. Maybe you should see him.
Dr. Wilder gave a scornful laugh. The minister wont even return my phone calls. I highly doubt hed send an emissary in person to meet with me.
What should I tell him? Blanca asked.
Just what I said, Dr. Wilder replied curtly. Im with a patient. Hell have to come back later. In an hour.
Blancas mouth tightened, but she left the room without a word and closed the door more soundly than necessary behind her.
She seemed upset, Melanie said. Maybe you should go see who this man is.
Dr. Wilder shrugged. Blanca is quite capable of taking care of the matter.
She does seem efficient, Melanie said carefully. How long has she worked for you?
A few months. Why?
Oh, I dont know. I just get the impression shes very protective of you.
He turned away quickly, but not before Melanie saw a look of embarrassment flicker over his features. Im going to give you a local, but it may still sting a bit.
He was hiding something, she decided. Obviously, he didnt want to discuss his relationship with Blanca, but why? Was there something going on between them that Melanie had somehow missed?
If so, that would go a long way in explaining Blancas attitude, particularly if she regarded Melanie as a potential rival for Dr. Wilders affection.
But if she only knew, Melanie thought with a grimace. Romance was the last thing she needed. And besides, what man in his right mind would ever understand, let alone accept, thisthing she could do?
Melanie didnt even understand it herself, but she knew instinctively that no good would come of it.
Where science is corrupted, evil often flourishes.
Dr. Wilders warning suddenly came back to her, and her hand jerked reflexively.
He looked up. Im sorry. Am I hurting you?
Not much.
Ill try to be quick.
He was as gentle as he could be, but thirteen stitches later, Melanie was fervently wishing for a hit of the Percocet shed seen in the infirmary last night.
IM DR. WILDER. My nurse said you wanted to see me?
Jon Lassiter.
Neither man offered the other his hand. Instead, Dr. Wilder walked around his desk and motioned to a chair across from him.
Neither man offered the other his hand. Instead, Dr. Wilder walked around his desk and motioned to a chair across from him.
Thanks, but I prefer to stand, Lassiter said.
As you wish. Dr. Wilder took a seat and folded his hands on the desk. What can I do for you? His voice was surprisingly calm, considering how tense hed seemed when Lassiter had been ushered into his office.
I work for Kruger Petroleum. We had an intruder in our compound last night.
Wilder lifted his brows. Im sorry to hear that, but what does it have to do with me?
The only thing missing were antibiotics. An odd choice, considering there were several opiates within easy reach, including morphine. Not a big demand on the black market for tetracycline.
Wilder grimaced. You obviously arent aware of the latest epidemic.
I know about the fever, Lassiter said. I also know that you have a patient here at the clinic, a girl about five years of age, who has typhuslike symptoms. Correct me if Im wrong, Doctor, but the treatment for an infection caused by rickettsia bacterium is heavy antibiotic therapy, preferably tetracycline or chloramphenicol.
Something flickered in Wilders eyes, but his expression never changed. Are you accusing me of stealing your antibiotics, young man?
You dont match the description of the thief.
Then I ask you again, what does any of this have to do with me? Impatience had crept into Wilders voice, but something else was there, too. Lassiter had the distinct impression Wilder was protecting someone.
The thief was wounded in the robbery, he said. I need to know if you treated anyone late last night or sometime this morning with a fairly deep cut, probably on one of her hands?
Her?
The intruder was a woman.
Dr. Wilder shook his head. Ive seen no one, male or female, with such an injury.
What about a gunshot wound?
Alarm flashed across his face. A gunshot wound?
The intruder came under heavy fire, Lassiter explained. She might have been wounded.
Wilders mouth tightened. He suddenly looked very angry. Ive seen no gunshots wounds, either.
Youre sure about that?
Positive.
Lassiter knew the man was lying. The infinitesimal tick at the corner of his left eye gave him away. I understand you have a young woman working at this clinic who does match the description of the intruder. Blond. About five foot seven.
Im afraid youre mistaken, Dr. Wilder said coolly.
Lassiter placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. He could see something dark in the doctors eyes. Fear? Contempt? A little of both? Let me give you a warning, Doctor. I dont like playing games any more than I like being made a fool of in front of my employers.
Wilder said scornfully, You would place a higher premium on your pride than on a childs life?
Lassiter straightened. Then you admit the drugs were brought to this clinic.
I admit no such thing. Dr. Wilder pushed himself back from his desk and rose. But if they had been, any rational man, any moral man, would see that the end justifies the means when an innocent childs life is at stake. Now if youll excuse me, Im very busy. I trust you can show yourself out.
Lassiter strode across the room, then paused at the door to glance back. If you did have such a woman in your employ, Id ask that you give her two messages, the first being that in future, if she needs drugs, she might try asking for them. And second, there are some places in the world where a thief would be made an example of by having her hands chopped off in the public square.
If thats a threat
Lassiter smiled. Just another friendly warning. So long, Doctor.
He pulled the door closed between them and headed down the dim, narrow hallway toward the exit. Wilders nurse, who was lurking in the corridor, jumped back to allow him room to pass. He suspected that only moments earlier, shed had her ear pressed to the door, listening to every word being said in Wilders office.
But as their gazes met briefly, she looked at Lassiter with neither guilt nor fear, but with a cool, deadly calculation that was more than a little disturbing.
FROM HER HIDING PLACE across the street, Melanie watched the man come out of the clinic and pause on the steps as his gaze went up and down the street. She shrank back into the alley, certain that el guerrero del demonio would have the ability to zero in on her even in the shadows, or in the middle of a crowd, or a hundred miles away.
They say he hasspecial powers.
Melanie shivered as she glanced around the corner of the building. He was minus the rifle and the camouflage gear shed seen last night. Today he wore jeans and a snug black T-shirt that seemed at once nondescript and sexy. He might have been a good-looking tourist out for a bit of sightseeingexcept for the rigid way he carried himself and that cold gleam she knew would be in his eyes.
Even from across the street, she could see the bulge of his biceps beneath his short sleeves, the depth of his chest through the cotton shirt. He was lean and muscular, a fighting man in the prime of his life. A mercenary who killed people for money, and Melanie had the impression he was very good at what he did.
Her stomach tightened as she watched him. He was looking for her, she knew that. He must have followed the trail of blood, so to speak. The clinic was the logical place to start his search.
How long before he gave up?
Or would he give up?
With one last glance down the street, he climbed into the jeep and made a U-turn in the street, heading north, toward the mountains. But Melanie knew hed be back.
Her heart pounding uncomfortably, she waited until his vehicle was out of sight before she left her hiding place and headed in the opposite direction, toward downtown.
The population of Santa Elena was less than five thousand permanent residents whose meager livelihood depended on the tourists who came there to visit the cloud forest and the nearby Mayan ruins. The main thoroughfare ran through the heart of downtown, where a bustling open-air market catered to the foreigners and dilapidated buses dodged potholes, chickens and children playing soccer in the street.
Melanies hotel was in the center of the village, a three-story terra-cotta building with wrought-iron balconies and potted hibiscus. A lush courtyard, hidden behind stone walls heavily draped with bougainvillea, provided a cool, shadowy oasis for guests needing a respite from the hot midday sun.