And Then You Die

by Iris Johansen

  He slapped her again, harder.

  She glared up at him.

  He leaned over the bed, so close she could feel his breath on her face and see the urine from the bedpan running down his cheeks. “You think so much of that sister of yours, don't you?”

  “I know she's more clever than you'll ever––”

  “Did you really think she got away from Tenajo?”

  Terror seized her.

  “We captured her shortly after Kaldak brought you in. She's been here at San Andreas all the time.”

  “You're lying. She got away.”

  “No.” His gaze was narrowed on her face, drinking in her fear and uncertainty. “She's here.”

  It couldn't be true. “Prove it. Let me see her.”

  He shook his head.

  “Then you are lying.”

  “It would only distress you to see her. It's such an unpleasant place.”

  “Where?”

  “Four floors down in the basement.” His lips curved in a malicious smile. “She's lying in a drawer in our morgue. Just as you will be soon. Your sister is dead.”

  He walked out of the room.

  Pain crashed through her.

  Emily dead.

  She didn't know it was true. The sadist enjoyed hurting her and she was sure he had lied about other things. Why should she accept what he said about Emily?

  But it could be the truth. Emily could be dead.

  She's lying in a drawer in our morgue.

  The hideous picture was like a knife twisting inside her.

  It wasn't the truth. He had just wanted to hurt her.

  Emily could be alive.

  Her fingernails dug painfully into her palms as her fists clenched.

  Four floors down in the basement. She's lying in a drawer in our morgue.

  “Is it the truth?” Kaldak asked as he bathed the cuts on Esteban's head. “Is the Corelli woman here?”

  Esteban ignored the question. “I want that Grady bitch dead. I'm through with her. To hell with Habin.”

  “As you like.”

  “Now.”

  Kaldak nodded. “But not here. It mustn't be connected directly with you. Some of the hospital personnel aren't in your pocket, and the orderly saw us leaving her room.”

  Esteban's head was pounding with pain and fury . . . and humiliation. He felt as helpless as when he was a boy, before he had discovered how easily he could change his life.

  “I want her to die slowly and I want to watch it. I want to do it myself.”

  “Then we'd better wait. Unless you can arrange to leave San Andreas?”

  “Not for at least another day. I expected to move much faster, but we're still running tests. Too many of the people died at different times. There may be something wrong.”

  Kaldak threw the cloth into the sink. “Then let's deal with the Grady woman now so that you can go on to more important matters. It probably doesn't matter if anyone's suspicious. I was being too careful.”

  It did matter, Esteban realized with frustration. He couldn't afford to have any investigation getting in his way.

  His hesitation disappeared at Kaldak's next words. “If you want me to take care of it, just tell me how you want it done. I know a lot of ways. It doesn't have to be quick.”

  He wanted it too, Esteban thought. “Take her away from here. Make her disappear.”

  Kaldak nodded.

  “But I want to hear every detail and I want her to hurt for a long time.”

  “Oh, she will.” Kaldak smiled. “I promise you.”

  Four

  No one came near Bess the rest of the evening. It was sheer torture lying there bound and helpless with Esteban's words playing and replaying in her mind.

  But she wasn't helpless. She was alive and able to think. There had to be something she could do. If she could talk him into releasing her, she would find a weapon, even if it was another bedpan.

  Impossible. He would never release her. Why should he, when she was staked out ready for slaughter? He was just taking his time making her suffer. . . .

  The door was opening. A man stood in the doorway, a huge, dark silhouette outlined against the bright lights in the corridor. He was carrying a canvas bag. Not Esteban. Not the orderly. She couldn't see his face, but she knew who it was.

  Kaldak.

  He closed the door and came toward her. He stopped near enough for her to make out his face, and it was no more reassuring than when she had first seen it at Tenajo. Why was it so frightening? It was just flesh and blood like any other. Maybe because it looked as hard as granite. Maybe because of the way the features had been put together. Whatever it was, she couldn't take her eyes off him, and the more she looked, the more terrified she became.

  “Do you know why I'm here?”

  “I can guess.” She tried to steady her voice. “Esteban sent you to do his dirty work.”

  “Esteban sent me to kill you.”

  She opened her mouth to scream, and he covered it with a hand.

  “I didn't say I was going to do it.”

  Her teeth sank into his palm.

  “Christ.” He jerked his hand away.

  She felt the copper taste of blood in her mouth as she again opened her mouth to scream. This time he hit her in the face. The room swam around her.

  “I could have just as well knocked you out,” he said roughly. “The only reason I didn't is that I don't want to have to carry you. You've caused me enough trouble.”

  He was unbuckling the straps, she realized vaguely. Why . . .

  He unzipped the canvas bag, drew out jeans, shirt, tennis shoes, and tossed them on the bed. “No disturbance. Everything has to go smoothly. Get dressed.”

  She slowly sat up. “What are you doing?”

  “I'm getting you out of here.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you want to go or do you want me to strap you back up?”

  “I want you to tell me why I should go anywhere with a man who just punched me.”

  “Because your choices are nil. It doesn't matter if you trust me or not. And, if you cause me too much trouble, I'll drop you by the wayside.”

  Reassuring, she thought bitterly. But he was right, she had no choice. She was far better off now than she had been a few minutes earlier. She picked up the jeans. “Turn your back.”

  “And have you bean me with a bedpan?”

  It was as if he had read her mind. Too bad. She started pulling the jeans on. She was so weak, she could barely stand up. “What makes you think you can get me out?”

  “Esteban doesn't want an awkward death here. I told him I'd take care of you somewhere away from here.”

  “What about my sister? He said he killed her.” She looked up, holding her breath. “Did he?”

  “I don't know.”

  “You have to know. You work for Esteban. You were at Tenajo.”

  He shrugged. “Esteban doesn't want his left hand knowing what his right hand is doing. He gives out only bits and pieces to prevent anyone from putting together the whole picture. I knew about you because I was the one who brought you in. I didn't see your sister, but that doesn't mean she wasn't taken later.”

  She fought the despair and panic. Kaldak could be lying too. She pulled off the bedgown and picked up the shirt. “How about Josie?”

  “Who?”

  “There was a baby, a little girl. She was alive.”

  “She's here. She was brought in several hours after I delivered you.”

  Her gaze flew to him. “Where? Is she still alive?”

  He nodded. “Three doors down. Esteban has visited her several times.”

  Her initial joy immediately changed to fear. Emily would never have left Josie if she could possibly help it. “Then Emily must have been with her.”

  He shook his head.

  “She wouldn't have left Josie.”

  “She wasn't brought in with the kid. Hurry up.”

  “Who are you?”

&n
bsp; “Kaldak.”

  “I know that. Who . . . why would you want to help me?”

  “You're in my way. I'm just shifting you to one side.” The words were said with such cool indifference that they sent a chill through her.

  “They'll just let us walk out of here? He trusts you that much?”

  “He doesn't trust me at all. But he knows I'm efficient in what I do.”

  It didn't take an Einstein to deduce in what skill Kaldak excelled. She buttoned her shirt and slipped on the tennis shoes. “Then it's reasonable that he'd talk to you about Emily.”

  “No, it's not.”

  “He said she's dead.”

  “Then she might be.”

  “You must know––”

  “We're out of here.” He headed for the door. “Keep your mouth shut and stay close to me.”

  She didn't move.

  “Would you rather stay here and wait for Esteban?”

  As he had said, she had no choice. She'd go along with him until she found a way to escape.

  She blinked as she stepped into the brightly lit corridor.

  It was after midnight and the corridors were empty. Three nurses were gathered at a nurses' station by a bank of elevators. “Won't they stop us?” she whispered.

  “I've already told them Esteban wants you released. They won't argue.”

  It seemed impossible that in a matter of minutes she could be out of there.

  She glanced down the hall. Only three doors away from Josie. A matter of yards, and yet the idea of crossing that distance frightened her to death. “Wait a minute.”

  “Wait, hell,” he said through his teeth as he grabbed her elbow. “Come on.”

  “Do you think I don't want to go?” she said fiercely. “But I'm not going to leave Josie. If you can get me out, you can get her out.”

  “I can't risk––”

  “I'm not going without her.”

  She moved quickly down the hall, and to her surprise he followed.

  She opened the door to Josie's room. It was dark, but she could see the shadowy outline of a crib.

  Kaldak closed the door and turned on the light.

  She gasped.

  Josie, sound asleep, was hooked up to an IV bottle and looked too pale.

  “I thought you said she was all right,” Bess whispered.

  “She's healthy enough.” He disconnected the IV. “Esteban didn't trust the hospital personnel to take care of her, so he warned them she was contagious. He didn't want anyone becoming attached to her.”

  Clearly there was no danger of that happening with Kaldak. “So he stuck needles and tubes in her. Just look at her. The son of a bitch drugged her.”

  “Good. Maybe we'll be able to get her out of here without getting our heads blown off. Stay here. I'll be right back.”

  He left the room and was back in seconds with the canvas bag in which he'd brought her clothes.

  “Give her to me.”

  “I'll do it.” She carefully laid Josie in the bag and stuffed some diapers and a blanket in with her. It was a tight fit. “Do we have to zip it?”

  “Yes.” He was already zipping the bag. “Let's go.”

  “What if there's not enough air for her––”

  “Go.” He pushed her through the door and down the hall, carrying the canvas bag as if it weighed nothing, swinging it slightly. “Go straight to the elevators. Don't even look at the nurses. Things have been going on that worry them, and I make them uneasy. They'll probably try to ignore me.”

  He was right. The nurses suddenly became very busy as she and Kaldak approached the desk. When they were inside the elevator and the doors had closed, she unzipped the bag a few inches. “She might not be able to breathe.”

  Kaldak shook his head but didn't stop her. He punched the lobby button. “I have a jeep parked in front. We may be challenged at the gate, but I have credentials and I've already made sure the men on duty know who I am. It should go smoothly.”

  Smoothly. He had used that word before. He wanted everything neat and tidy.

  The doors opened, and Kaldak took her elbow, nudging her forward into the deserted lobby. They passed the emergency fire stairs. They walked out the door and climbed into the jeep.

  Four floors down.

  She's dead.

  Kaldak turned on the ignition.

  No!

  Bess jumped out of the jeep. “I can't leave yet. I have to go to the morgue. He said my sister was there.”

  “Oh, no, not again.” His hand closed on her arm. “You don't go anywhere but out that gate.”

  “First I have to find out if he lied to me.”

  “The hell you do. The morgue is a sensitive area and it's guarded.”

  “Don't you understand? I have to know.” She jerked away from him, darted back into the lobby, and ran toward the fire stairs.

  She heard him cursing behind her as she ran down the concrete steps and threw open the basement door. Around the curve at the end of the corridor a soldier stood in front of the double doors to the morgue. He raised his rifle.

  Kaldak knocked her aside and dove for the soldier's knees.

  He went down and Kaldak straddled him. He struck downward with the edge of his hand, and the soldier went limp.

  Kaldak glared at her. “Damn you to hell.”

  He was angry. Things weren't going smoothly for him any longer. “I have to know.” She stood up and moved toward the doors.

  “Wait.” He got to his feet and pushed her aside. He went in ahead of her.

  A gangly, white-coated attendant jumped up from behind the reception desk. “Who are you? No one is allowed in––”

  “Shut up,” Kaldak ordered. “Get down on the floor.”

  “It's not––”

  Kaldak's hand chopped down on the side of his neck, and the attendant slumped forward.

  “Come on,” Kaldak said as he headed for the door next to the desk. “Let's finish this and get out of here.”

  She followed him into a room of stainless steel and glass-fronted cabinets full of instruments. An autopsy room. A chill went through her.

  “No bodies,” Kaldak said. “Can we go now?”

  She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. “He said . . . she was in a drawer.” She walked slowly toward the white metal door at the far end of the room.

  Kaldak got there before her. He pushed open the door.

  She saw two refrigerated drawers set in the far wall. Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to walk toward them.

  “Only two. Good. At least, that will save time.” Kaldak stood beside the drawer on the left. “I think you should know Esteban received an autopsy report this morning.”

  Her gaze flew to his face. “You said you didn't know whether––”

  “I don't know who the report was on. I don't ask Esteban questions.” His face was without expression. “Have you ever seen a corpse after an autopsy?”

  She shook her head.

  “It's not pleasant. I don't want you fainting and forcing me to carry you out of here.”

  Oh, no, that would cause a ripple in his plans.

  He reached for the drawer pull. “I'll look for you.”

  She stopped him. “I don't trust you.”

  He shrugged and stepped back. “Suit yourself.”

  She drew another deep breath and reached for the pull. The door slid open easily.

  Empty.

  Relief poured through her. She shut the drawer, then moved to the next one.

  Please, God, let this be empty too, she prayed desperately. She could feel Kaldak's gaze on her as she reached for the pull.

  Let it be a lie.

  Please . . .

  The drawer slid out as easily as the first one.

  But it was not empty.

  Her stomach heaved as she whirled away from the drawer. She barely made it to a sink in the next room before she threw up.

  “I told you it wasn't pretty.” Kaldak stood beside
her, his hand on her waist supporting her. “If you'd listened to me, you wouldn't have had––”

  “Shut up.”

  “Was it your sister?”

  She shook her head. “Rico.”

  “The guide.”

  “I sent him to the nearest town to call the public health department. I thought when the trucks came that he'd reached–– I never dreamed anything had happened to him. He wasn't ill when he left Tenajo.” She whirled on him. “What happened to him? Did you––”

  “I didn't touch him. I didn't even know he'd been intercepted.”

  “He wasn't sick, I tell you,” she said fiercely. “Not any more than I was.”

  “It's been two days. If he took ill after he left Tenajo, he could have died within six hours after he manifested symptoms.”

  “That soon?” she whispered.

  “Quicker if he wasn't strong and healthy.”

  He had been strong. Young and strong and full of life. She shuddered as she remembered the Rico she had seen in that drawer. “I don't know if I believe you.”

  “I don't care if you do or not,” he said flatly. “But he probably died of the disease. Otherwise there wouldn't have been any reason to perform an autopsy.” He turned away. “Wash your face. I want you looking normal when we drive through the gates.”

  She automatically turned on the water and started splashing water in her face.

  “Open the door.” Kaldak was dragging the guard from outside through the autopsy room.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don't want him found right away.” He shouldered the door open himself and pulled the guard toward the refrigerated drawers.

  “Is he dead?”

  Kaldak nodded.

  “Did you have to kill him?”

  “No, but it was surer.” He pulled out the empty drawer, fitted the guard inside and slammed it shut. “Dead men don't get in the way.”

  Cold, calm, without expression or feeling. “What about the morgue attendant?”

  “He's alive. I tied him up and put him in the broom closet down the hall.”

  “Why didn't you kill him too?”

  He shrugged. “He's only a scared rabbit. No threat.” He took a towel from beside the sink. “Stand still.”

  “What are––” He was rubbing her left cheek with the towel. She knocked his hand aside and stepped back. “Stop that.”

  He tossed her the towel. “Do the other cheek. You need color. You're too pale.”