Chapter 5

Dimly Alex remembered a man, a Mexican Don Juan type, and some money, and a woman. They argued. The man gave the woman a slap. "Lo hace, Gloria!" he commanded.

There had been white sheets. A soft bed. Alex groaned.

There were white sheets now, but the bed wasn't soft. It was one of half a dozen steel-hard cots in the police hospital.

Through his sleep-strained eyes Alex idly watched the doctor ministering to his patients. Clucking to himself.

What had happened to that girl? Renee! Alex winced. He must have seemed the perfect pig. Leaving her for that whore. Or did she leave him? It was so unclear and he remembered only fragments.

Some protector. He laughed bitterly.

The doctor noticed he was awake and came over. "You feel well, senor?"

"A little bit."

"You are very lucky." The medico wiped his hands against his white gown and took a pad out of his pocket. "It would have taken only a little more, and you would have been dead."

Alex sat up. Suddenly alert. "A little more what?"

"Why," the doctor looked at him in amazement, "narcotics, senor!"

"Narcotics?"

"Si. This time you were lucky. Very lucky. When will you Norte Americanos find out that la droga is no game?"

"I didn't take any narcotics!"

"Si, sector." The doctor spread his hands. His tone was soothing, but his eyes were unbelieving. "It is as you say, senor."

"You've got to believe me. I was drinking. That's all. Drinking!"

"Of course, senor. It was the drink which almost killed you." The doctor nodded knowingly and laid a finger alongside his nose.

"My money?"

"Nothing. I am very sorry. When la policia found you, you were plucked very clean."

Suddenly, Alex was very frightened. Not for himself. For that girl, the soft, young girl he had been with.

His fingers clenched into fists, the knuckles showing white against the sheets. "I've got to get out of here," he said. "Where are my clothes?"

"I do not advise it, senor. In fact," the doctor smiled, "I do not think you can do it yet. But we cannot keep you here."

Alex strained against the bed. Sweat beaded his body as he grunted and strained to get to the floor. The doctor watched, open-mouthed, as he swayed and stumbled across the clinic's floor.

The windows reeled in a wheel of bright sunlight in front of him. His mouth was dry as velvet. And then he was sinking down, thinking about that girl. Renee.

"Ayuda, ayuda." Running up to him, the doctor and an aide caught Alex and half carried, half dragged him back to his bed.

"Impossible!" the doctor kept mumbling to himself. "Impossible!"