Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 01 - Flapjack (20 page)

There was a large room with beds laid out in succession to the right.  Nurses milled about while family members crouched near the beds, talking with patients.  Manuel pointed to the left and we followed him through a pair of double doors that led to a nurse
’s station and a bank of private rooms along the wall.  A nurse sitting at the station looked up as we approached and did a double take.  It probably wasn’t often they had two gringo doctors here.

“
Manuel, tell her we are from the U.S.  We’re doctors from the Centers for Disease Control, and we would like to speak to Colonel Espinosa’s doctor.”  Manuel followed the command and conversed with the nurse who got up and went to a nearby phone, made a call, and spoke to Manuel again, in Spanish of course.

“
He’s on his way up,” I told Galveston.

“
How do you know that?”  He inquired.

“
I speak a little Spanish,” I said meekly.  Actually, I used to speak fluent Spanish, but right now I was a rusty and out of practice.  I had minored in it in college, and used it during my years dealing with South American and Mexican investors.  I didn’t mean to let it slip though; I didn’t want to have the burden of all the communication on me.

“You were holding out on me,” Galveston smiled deviously, reveling in the new information.  Manuel continued to talk to the attractive nurse.  “What’s he saying to her now?”

“
I think he’s trying to pick her up.”

Manuel turn
ed to us and said, “the doctor, he coming,” and returned to the nurse, smiling as he talked.

We both surveyed the area as Manuel continued his purs
uit.  The intensive care unit was laid out in an “L” shape with windows allowing a view of each room.  The equipment was slightly antiquated, but the staff was attentive, moving silently in and out of the rooms, tending to their patients.  I admired the work of the nurses who didn’t seem concerned about their environment.  I had expected much worse, and was surprised that the hospital, overall, was clean and in good working order.

“
Can I help you gentlemen,” a voice from behind us said in excellent English with only a slight Mexican accent.

“
Yes sir, hello,” Galveston said after turning toward him. 

He was a slightly overweight man in his forties, his white coat open in front and a polo shirt underneath.  He had th
e sleeves of the coat rolled up and it was too small for his large frame. 

“
My name is Dr. Hammerstein and this is Dr. Rogers.  We’re sorry to come unannounced, but it was important that we be here personally.  We’ve come from the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.”  Galveston handed over his I.D., and I nervously fumbled mine from my pocket and handed it to him.  I wiped the sweat from my palms as he examined them both.

“
The CDC?  I’m Dr. Garcia.  I haven’t heard about a visit.  What brings you to Monterrey?”  Galveston stayed calm and cool.

“
Again I apologize for the intrusion, but we’re tracking a couple of cases that have originated from visits to the U.S., particularly in the Phoenix, Arizona area.  We have some information that,” Galveston looked at the papers on his clipboard, “an Alfonso Espinosa visited a clinic there about four month ago.  We’ve had some other cases that we managed to hunt down similar to his at that time.  We are concerned it may be a mutated strain of tuberculosis.”  Galveston had obviously done some homework before our visit, because after he mentioned tuberculosis, the doctor’s eyes leapt and his eyebrows rose.

“
Tuberculosis?  Mr. Espinosa doesn’t present with the symptoms of tuberculosis.”

“
Neither did our other cases.  That’s why we’re here.  We’re trying to isolate the strain, but unfortunately our other cases have expired.  May we have a look at his medical record?  We would like to call our office within the hour.” 

The doctor was caught off guard from the information.  Tuberculosis was highly infective and the Colonel wasn’t in isolation.  I looked over at Manuel, still working on the nurse, oblivious to our meeting. 

Galveston continued with his fictional discussion.  “If you and I could look over the records while Dr. Rogers interviews the patient, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“
Yes, I think that can be arranged, of course.  Please, follow me.”  I stood rigid while Galveston followed the doctor to the medical charts. 

“
Uh, Dr. Rogers, you can begin the interview.”  Galveston motioned for me to head in the other direction.

“
Uh, yes.  Where is Mr. Espinosa’s room?”  I asked.

“
Room three,” Dr. Garcia answered, not looking up from the chart, “and the gown, gloves, and mask are in that cart.”  He pointed to a wheeled cart next to a wall. 

I walked over and opened each drawer, revealing a multitude of medical devices, of which I had no clue of their uses.

I found the gown, gloves, and masks in the bottom drawer, pulled out a disposable gown first, and attempted to put it on, at first backward, before realizing my gaff.  The gloves went on no better as I attempted to thrust my fingers in the latex.  I put the mask on and secured it to my face.  I thought I would pass out from the garb, but took a deep breath and headed into the room.  A fan blew air about the room that was attached to the wall, and Colonel Espinosa lay in the bed, his head slightly elevated.  He was connected to a multitude of lines and tubes.  He had oxygen pumping in his nose through a nasal cannula, and a pair of IV’s pumped a clear liquid into his veins.  He laid staring up at the ceiling, his breathing labored and heavy.  I moved to the side of his bed as the monitors around him beeped incessantly.

“
Colonel Espinosa?”  I questioned. 

He turned his eyes toward me slightly, but didn’t move his head.  The mask was tight on my face and stifling
, muffling my words.  There would be no way to speak my version of Spanish with such a thing on, so I peeled it from my face and put it under my chin.  “Hola Colonel Espinosa,” I spoke in my most clear and succinct Spanish.  “Me llamo,” oh, God, I had forgotten my fake name and reached for my I.D. and then stopped, thinking that may be a little obvious.  A musical duo, Hall and Oats, Sonny and Cher?  And then it finally occurred to me.  “Me llamo Dr. Rogers,” I said proudly.  “Vivo en America.  Veng aqui con otra Doctor, porque tenemos preguntas sobre tu salud.  Necessito habler con su esta bien?”  I told him I was with another doctor to find out why he was sick, and I needed to ask him some questions. 

Espinosa blinked and stared at me blankly before clearing his throat and answered softly, his lips dry and cracked.

“Yes, that okay,” he responded in almost perfect English.

“
Thank God,” I thought, “he speaks some English.”

“
Good Colonel.”  I took a deep breath and staged the question in my head.

“
These might be personal and in no way will I repeat them to anyone.  Did you receive something in the last few weeks on a dirt airfield in northern Mexico?”

His eyes grew wide and it appeared he was trying to move, but couldn’t.  He blinked a few more times, his breathing quickened. 

“It’s very important for me to know Colonel.  Your life may depend on it.”  He stared at me intently.

“
Yes,” he answered softly. 

“
What did you receive Colonel, money?”

“
No,” he replied and I realized I needed to ask more open ended questions or we would be here all day.

“
What did you receive Colonel?”  I asked again.  He again hesitated and shifted his eyes away, but then decided to answer.

“
A case,” he said slowly.

“
Do you know what was in the case?”  I pressed.

“
No.  I only transported it.”  He seemed to garner more strength, but didn’t take his statement any further.  I decided to play a little more hardball.

“
Colonel, we have information that these men you worked for are trying to kill you.  They’ve said it in a message.  Now it’s time to be straight and honest with me.  If you don’t, you could die.  Now where did you take the case?” 

He looked at me horrified, the words, I could tell, were now beginning to sink in.  He sighed heavily and his breathing quickened.

“I flew from the field in northern Mexico here to Monterrey to change planes to a jet.  I transported the case onto the plane.”  He drew a large breath from the nasal cannula.  “The plane flew to Sao Carlos, Brazil where I handed it off to a group waiting at the airport.  I then flew from there to Rio and then on to Mexico City.  I drove back to Monterrey.”

“
So you weren’t sick that entire time?”  I asked, checking my watch for time.

“
No, not until I got home, here in Monterrey.”

“
What did you get for doing this Colonel?”  He again thought before he answered.

“
Money, and…” He stopped short of telling me more, obviously afraid of my response to the rest of the answer.

“
What else Colonel,” I again pressed the questions.  He hesitated again before answering.

“
A statue, they delivered me a statue that was waiting for me at my home.”

“
A statue?  Of what?”

“
The Aztec god Tonatiuh.  A small statue bought from an archeologist on the black market.”

“
Then when did you get sick?”  I asked, confused at his answer.

“
When I touched the statue.  I immediately felt sick when I touched the statue.  It is a cursed statue.”  The response was unexpected, and at the time made no sense.  He was this sick from touching a statue?

“
You asked for this statue?”

“
Yes, for my collection.”

“
And who were these men?”  He was beginning to grow weary from the questioning and I knew I didn’t have much time.

“
I don’t know.  I really don’t know,” he said, and began to close his eyes.  I knew I might only be able to get a few more answers to my questions out of him.

“
Where is the statue now?”

“
At my home,” his eyes now fully closed.

“
Who got you to do this Colonel?”  I lightly shook his hand.  He waited and I was unsure if he even heard my question.  “Colonel, who got you involved in this?”  I asked again.  One eye opened slowly.

“
Patelo, Ernesto Patelo, my friend.”  His eyes closed fully again, and I tried to arouse him with a few shakes of his hand.  He didn’t respond, but luckily was still breathing.  I knew I had pushed him hard, but they were questions we needed answered.  My time was up, I knew, and I began to walk to the door, taking off the gown and gloves.  I then heard a whisper from behind me. 

“
My desk, in my desk,” and the Colonel’s voice went silent.  I’ve killed him, I thought, but noticed that the heart rate monitors still showed active beating of his heart.  I scribbled down all that he had told me quickly on the papers Galveston had given me, paying close attention to circle the name of Ernesto Patelo.

-Chapter 36-

I stood at the door of the hospital room, trying to process what happened.  All of a sudden a nurse rushed in and blew past me, yanked the nasal cannula off his face, and replaced it with a mask.  I stepped back as Dr. Garcia and Galveston came rushing in.

“
He’s in shock,” Dr. Garcia yelled, looking at the monitors, and immediately gave the nurse orders for his care.  They stabilized his erratic heartbeat quickly, and the Colonel’s breathing normalized after a few minutes.

“
What are we working with?” the doctor asked us.  Galveston and I looked at each other, dumbfounded for a response.  I thought for a second and it occurred to me what was happening to the man in the bed.

“
He doesn’t have a strain of tuberculosis,” I said while Galveston’s face turned white, thinking I was going to blow our cover.  “He has been poisoned.”  The doctor looked shocked.

“
Poisoned?  What kind, and how do you know that is the cause?”

“
Something at his home poisoned him.  We need to go there and find it.”  I figured this would be a good line for our escape, plus we needed to find out what was in that desk.  The Colonel had probably not been truthful with them about when he got sick, most likely to cover his impropriety.  Galveston was confused, but went with the story I had started.

“
Yes that’s a good idea.  Where can we get his address?  This might be our only chance to save his life.”

“
Get it from the nurse.  Hurry, I don’t know how long he will hang on.”  The doctor went back to looking at the monitors.  Galveston and I quickly turned and left the room before any more questions could be asked.

We paused at the
nurses’ station to retrieve our translator.

“
Come on lover boy,” Galveston said grabbing Manuel by the shirt collar, pulling him away from his conversation.

“
I call you,” I heard Manuel say as we dragged him backwards.  “Oh, I was so close.”

“
You didn’t have a chance,” Galveston retorted.

We went back through the double doors toward the elevators, but detoured down the stairs next to them.

“What’s the hurry?”  Manuel yelped.

“
Ask him,” Galveston said pointing toward me. 

“
You need to drive us Manuel, I hope you know Monterrey,” I said to our new colleague, but realized we had forgotten something.  “Ah crap Dan, we forgot to get the address,”

“
I’ll be back,” Galveston shouted, already leaping back up the stairs, skipping one at a time as he went.  He left Manuel and me standing in the stairwell.

“
So, do you know the Monterrey streets?” I asked him.

“
Pretty good.  I had a senorita here.  She had a brother, he don’t like me.  I got to know some of the streets well while he chase me.”

“
I hope so.  We need to get to this guy’s house quick.  I tell you what.  Go get the car and meet us in front.  We’ll be down in a second.” 

Manuel nodded his head and raced down the stairs, disappearing beyond the adjacent stairwell.  Just then I looked up and
Galveston was already returning, a piece of paper in his hand.

“
I got it, let’s go.”  He waved the piece of paper, and raced past me down the stairs.

By the time I caught up
, he was already out in front of the building and making his way to our VW chariot.  Galveston handed the sheet of paper to Manuel as I was relegated to the cramped back seat again.  Manuel revved the engine and tore off from the hospital and down the twisting street.

It was obvious after twenty minutes
of aimless driving that Manuel had no idea where he was going because we wound up back in front of the hospital.  Consequently, we forced him to stop at a service station and purchase an actual map instead of relying on the distorted map in his head.  We drove for another half an hour, winding and curving our way through the narrow streets of the city dodging pedestrians and other cars until we finally wound up on the outskirts of the city and a neighborhood of expansive, gated homes.

“
227, that’s the one,” Galveston announced, pointing at a rusted gate bordered by two stone pillars.  He jumped out and tried to open the gate to the driveway, but it was locked.  We would have to make our way on foot. 

Manuel pulled the car
off the road and cut the engine.  It sputtered to a stop.  I extracted myself from the back seat and met Manuel and Galveston at the gate, the pair already plotting how they would get in.  Manuel was the smallest of the three of us and was put in charge of opening the gate.  He nervously pulled a stick of Canel’s chewing gum from his pocket and began to chew it incessantly, surveying his duty.  Galveston put his hands together and Manuel stepped on top of them with one foot, flung himself to the top of the pillar that stood on one side of the gate, and grunted as he pulled himself to the top and over the fence.  He tried in vain to open the gate, but was unable.  Galveston proposed for me to be next.  He would wait at the car while we found what we needed. 

The gate was to
o high for one person to scamper over without something or someone to push off from.  I repeated what Manuel had done, but with less grace as Galveston flung me to the top.  I heaved my overly heavy body to the other side of the fence while Manuel attempted to soften my fall.  I dusted myself off as I got on the other side.

“
Alright Manuel, let’s go.”  We gave Galveston a wave and headed up the short dirt road to a surprisingly modest two story house, decorated in front with a small grove of palm trees.

I ran to the front door
hoping it was open, but unfortunately it was locked.  Manuel made his way to the side of the house, and yelped when he found an unlocked window.  I found him struggling to get the window open when I arrived.  With a little teamwork we were able to force the widow open and began to crawl inside, listening carefully for a bark or growl from some unwanted creature.  Hearing and seeing nothing, I decided to go in first.  I grunted again as I pulled myself through the tiny opening, the sweat accumulating rapidly on my face.

I found myself in a small bedroom decor
ated with bright vibrant colors and a mixture of Mexican and South American art.  Manuel appeared behind me almost instantly, due to the product of youthful exuberance.

“
You check the house to the right and I’ll go left.  We’re looking for any statues or an office, but don’t touch anything.”  I barked the orders and Manuel jumped at the command.

As I made my way to the left, I entered a hallway and then a large open foyer.  Each room I passed was dotted with art and trinkets, one man’s obsession with times of old.  In the foyer I spotted the front door and a myriad of statues on pedestals.  The
y all looked the same to me, but one stood out from the rest.  It glistened in the sunlight streaming from the windows and an overhead skylight high in the ceiling.  The statue was smaller than the others and looked older and more weathered.  I got close to it and examined it under the available light.  The pedestal it sat on was higher than the others and it didn’t quite sit right.  This had to be the statue of the Aztec god Tonatiuh, or so I hoped, I was no Aztec aficionado.  There was a liquid on it, it appeared almost the consistency of syrup, and had a faint odor of what I could only describe as “foul”.  Small bubbles were present on certain portions of it. 

Tonatiuh
was the fifth and final sun god of the final era of the Aztecs.  It demanded human sacrifice or he would refuse to move through the sky.  It was ironic that in this present day it might have another victim of sacrifice. 

“
Manuel come in here.”  Manuel hurriedly appeared and peered over my shoulder.

“
That don’t look right,” he said in a low voice.

“
I agree.  Is this the Aztec god Tonatiuh?”  He shrugged his shoulders and reached to touch it, and I grabbed his hand quickly.  “Ah, I wouldn’t do that, unless you want to end up like Espinosa.”  He dropped his arms to his side.

“
It stinky,” he said holding his nose.  “It smell like fish rotting in bucket of water.”  As much as I appreciated his visual, my mind was busy plotting how we were going to get it out of there.

“
Go look for a case or something.  I’m going to try to find a stick.  We’ll push it over and into whatever you can find.”

“
Jou the boss.”  Manuel disappeared again.  I also left the room searching for a stick.  I still needed to find the office and did as I rounded a corner from the foyer.

The
office was filled with more artifacts and artwork.  It was wood paneled and in the middle of the room sat the desk Espinosa had mumbled about.  The desk was wooden and neatly arranged with a lamp on top.  I moved around it to find that there was only one drawer, and I opened it.  There were stacks of opened and unopened envelopes and a stack of loose papers.  I tried to look through all the paperwork, but there was too much, and I couldn’t make out anything of significance at the moment.  I decided I didn’t have time to try to delve through the stack, and hoped what we needed was contained within the bundle.  I could always mail it back to the Colonel later, after I invaded his privacy.  I stuck the pile of papers under my arm and made sure I hadn’t missed anything.  On the desk I noticed there was a beautiful brass letter opener with a bone handle.  This would do nicely as a stick, I thought. 

Upon
leaving the room I glanced at the pictures on the wall.  They were filled with many of the Colonel, posing in his military garb, with other soldiers.  There was also a Certificate of Merit with the
Grupo Aeromóvil de Fuerzas Especiales, or GAFE, the Mexican Army’s Special Forces Corps.  I didn’t even know they had such a thing.  Other pictures were of Espinosa posing with big game fish when he was in a healthier state; a large smile on his face.

I returned to the front foyer. 
I crammed the papers in one hand and the letter opener in the other.  Manuel had returned before me, carrying a lovely designer pinkish suitcase.

“
That color suits you,” I joked, walking toward him.

“
It was all I could find.  It was in the back of the closet, next to a big gun locker.  I won’t mind.”

I put the papers on the ground and moved toward the statue.  I instructed Manuel to open the case and put it in front of the statue.  I would then use the letter opener to push it in.  Manuel
opened the case and a pair of shoes fell out as he held the lid.  I poked the back of the statue with the letter opener and it began to jostle it from its perch.  As I pushed it further, a curious thing happened.  A whining sound emanated from the base.  Before pushing it further I peeked under the statue and saw a small button it was sitting on.  We had an Indiana Jones situation here.  It seemed to be attached to an alarm, but an alarm that would send who?  I decided I didn’t really want to find out and stopped my pushing.

“
Manuel, just scoop it up with the suitcase.  I’ll hold this button with the letter opener.”

Manuel clumsily kept the case open
, and when I motioned I was ready, he shoved the case around it.  It plopped in the case with a thud, while I put pressure on the button.  Manuel immediately closed the case up, leaving me holding the button down.  I could see the liquid had left a nice ring on the pedestal from where it had slid off the statue.

“
Do you see anything I can put on the button?”  I asked him.  He looked around hurriedly, smacking his gum more.

“
The shoe, give me a shoe and your gum.”  Manuel grabbed one of the shoes and the gum from his mouth and handed them to me.  “Put it right on top.”  Manuel carefully placed the shoe and gum on the top of the letter opener’s tip.  “I think that’s got it,” I told him and slowly moved the opener from the button.  It held in position precariously. 

“
I don’t know if that will hold it for very long,” I started, but Manuel didn’t hear me, he was already heading for the window we came in.  I grabbed the papers off the floor and by the time I made my way out the window, Manuel was already in the yard dusting himself off after tumbling out the window.

As I stood up outside the
window we suddenly heard a loud screeching sound and the clang of heaving metal.  I turned to see a metal panel close from above the window.  The screeching got much louder and became deafening.  Manuel raced from the yard to the front gate and I followed closely on his heels, startled from the sound.  All the windows of the house had closed up with metal shutters, trapping any would be intruders inside, which could have been us.  Galveston waited eagerly at the gate.

“
What happened?”  He yelled over the whining sound.

“
Push it through the bars,” I yelled at Manuel.  He began to shove the pink suitcase through the bars, but it got stuck halfway.  Galveston pulled on the handle hard, and effectively ripped it off due to the force.  I ran up behind and gave the case a swift kick, sending it scurrying across the dirt road.