Free Dr. Death by Nick Carter - [Killmaster 100] Page A

York," I said. "I am here only a few days. I am doing a favor for Diaz' family. I have no other time. Kindly let me in,
Señora.
I must be back at my clinic by tomorrow."
    The woman hesitated.
    "Señora,"
I said, putting a sharp edge of impatience in my voice, "you are wasting my time. If you will not let me in, call someone in authority."
    "There is no one else here at night," she said, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. She glanced down at my doctor's bag. "Only two nurses, on duty in the hospital. We are badly understaffed."
    "The door,
Señora,"
I said brusquely.
    Slowly, reluctantly, she opened the door and stood aside to let me in, then closed and bolted it behind me.
    "Which Diaz is it you want? Felipe, or Esteban?"
    "Felipe," I said, glancing around a large room lined with ancient filing cabinets and furnished with two rickety metal desks and a few chairs. There was a strong odor of disinfectant, and underneath it, a faint but distinct odor of decaying human flesh.
    "Felipe Diaz is in the west wing, with the stabilized cases. But I cannot take you there. I must stay by the door," the woman said. She moved to a desk and opened a drawer, taking out a ring of keys. "If you want to go you must go by yourself."
    "Bueno,"
I said, "I will go myself.
    I held out my hand for the keys. The woman extended them. I looked down at her hand and suppressed a gasp. Only a thumb and an inch of forefinger extended from the palm.
    The woman caught my look and smiled.
    "It is nothing,
Señor"
she said. "My case is stabilized and I am not infectious. I am one of the lucky ones. With me, it was only a few fingers. With others, like Felipe…"
    I forced myself to take the keys from that hand, then moved toward the door in the far wall.
    "Diaz is in bed twelve, just opposite the door," the woman said behind me, as I opened the door. "And,
Senor,
be careful not to enter the south wing. The cases there are highly contagious."
    I nodded and moved out into the courtyard, shutting the door behind me. A dim electric bulb barely illuminated a barren dirt yard with a few scraggly palms and some rows of benches. The windows on this side were open, dark, and I could hear snores, sighs, coughs, and a few moans. I crossed the yard quickly toward the west wing, then unlocked the door with the big iron key.
    The smell hit me like a hammer. It was thick and heavy, the smell of rotting human flesh, the smell a decomposing corpse gives off in heat. No disinfectant in the world could cover that smell, and I had to fight off the wave of nausea that swept over me. When I was sure I wasn't going to be sick I pulled a pencil flashlight from my pocket and swept the beam along the darkened room. Rows of bodies lying on cots, twisted into the awkward positions of sleep. Here and there an eye flicked open and regarded me warily. I directed the beam at the bed directly opposite the door, and moved quietly across the room. The figure on the cot had the sheet pulled up over its head. A gargled snore came from somewhere under the sheet. I put out a hand and shook one shoulder.
    "Diaz!" I whispered sharply. "Wake up! Diaz!"
    The figure stirred. Slowly, one arm emerged and pulled down the sheet. The head turned and the face came into view.
    I swallowed hard. It was a face from a nightmare. The nose was gone, and one ear was no more than a rotten crumple of flesh. Black gums stared at me where the upper hp had wasted away. The left arm was a stump, shriveled below the elbow.
    "Como?"
Diaz asked in a hoarse croak, staring at me sleepily.
"Qué quiere?"
    I reached into my jacket and flipped an I.D. card at him.
    "Inspector Miller, San Juan Customs Bureau," I said. "You're wanted for questioning."
    The ruined face regarded me uncomprehendingly.
    "Put on your clothes and come outside," I said sharply. "There's no need to wake up everyone in here."
    He still looked uncomprehending, but he slowly threw off the sheet and stood up. He didn't need to put on his clothes. He