Burke felt his legs give way, but Tessier caught him before he could crumple to the floor. The young man pulled Burke upright and dragged him into the hall.
“Oh, God!” cried someone seeing Burke.
Tessier put Burke into a chair and asked for someone to call an ambulance. As a couple of people pulled out their phones and tapped away, Tessier grabbed a couple of cloth napkins and placed them gently against the wounds in Burke’s back.
“I can’t say for sure, but I think they’re superficial wounds, Paul,” Tessier said. “I don’t think the person who stabbed you got a chance to really do the job.”
Burke remembered the sharp pains happened just as the mass of people tumbled sideways. That must have saved him, he thought. If he’d stayed upright and barely moving, he might be dead right now.
“My God, Paul, what happened?” came a familiar voice.
Burke looked up and saw Suzanne Godard staring horrified at him.
“The chefs didn’t like my critique of their work,” he said, adding a pained smile. He hoped a little humour would ease the tension around him, make his boss feel better and make him relax a bit. It didn’t work.
“Let me see him, please.”
Burke saw a lean, 50ish man in a finely tailored blue suit standing over him. He was a stranger and Burke wondered what he wanted.
“I’m a doctor,” the man explained to the group of bystanders.
Tessier and Godard moved back a couple of steps. The man pulled out a chair and turned to Burke. “I’m Dr. Fernando Gamez Marron,” he said in a deep Castilian accent. “What happened?”
“I was outside and got caught in the riot. I think I’ve been stabbed in the back.”
The doctor turned, looked at Burke’s back, removed the temporary bandages and examined both wounds. “I would say you’re right, Seῆor …?’
“Burke.”
The doctor nodded. “Well, Seῆor Burke, the good news is the knife seems to have done only superficial damage. You’ll need a few stitches, but it doesn’t seem like any major organs have been damaged. How much pain are you in?”
“It hurts, but I can manage it.”
“Good although it’s possible you’ve gone into shock.”
Gamez looked around, spotted a server and told the young man to get a first-aid kit. The server took a look at Burke’s bloodied shirt and sped off.
Taking Burke’s wrist, the doctor checked his pulse for a half minute. “A little high, but good under the circumstances,” Gamez said. He re-positioned his chair so he was looking straight at Burke. “I see you’ve also sustained some injuries to your face.”
Burke winced when the doctor gently touched a rapidly expanding lump over his left eye. When Gamez ran a finger over his split lip, he twitched in response.
“I’m sorry, Seῆor Burke,” Gamez said.
Then the doctor turned Burke’s face and moved closer to the side of Burke’s right eye. “You have a cut here that will also require several stitches. It’s stopped bleeding for now, but I’ll clean it properly when I get the first-aid kit.”
Gamez paused and then moved closer to Burke. “It seems you’ve had contact with some tear gas, right?”
“The police were using it to get rid of the crowd.”
Gamez nodded and held up an index finger. “I’d like you to watch my finger,” he said.
Burke knew the Spaniard was checking for concussion. Burke had gone through the protocol a number of times after being involved in crashes during bike races.
Gamez slowly moved an outstretched index finger right and then left, studying Burke as he moved his hand. He repeated the motion twice more. Then he sat back. “You show no signs of concussion, Seῆor Burke,” he said. “But I expect your face will be sore for a few days, not to mention your back. Were you struck anywhere else?”
Burke glanced at Godard who was saying something to Tessier. Both looked relieved, or at least not as worried as they had a few minutes earlier.
“In the kidneys and ribs.”
“I’ll try to be gentle,” Gamez said.
And he was as he probed Burke’s back and side. Burke winced once, but otherwise felt no pain.
“No broken bones although it would be wise to confirm that with an x-ray,” Gamez said.
The server was back with the first-aid kit and Burke watched Gamez dig through it. The doctor pulled out some swabs and told Burke he was going to treat his back wounds and to expect “some brief pain.”
The pain lasted just seconds as Gamez cleaned the knife wounds, sealed the skin as much as possible and applied bandages. He was equally quick with Burke’s eye wound and cut mouth.
“I’ve done what I can,” Gamez said. “But you’ll need to get to a hospital as soon as possible.”
Gamez turned to the people watching. “Does anyone know if the riot outside is diminishing?”
A police officer pushed forward. “My colleagues are getting it under control, but no one will be able to leave for a while.”
“What about getting an ambulance to collect this man here?” Gamez said, nodding at Burke. “I’m a doctor and he needs treatment.”
“There are several ambulances on the periphery of the square, but the EMTs can’t get in here yet. It’s too dangerous. ” The officer pointed at Burke. “Is he in any kind of real trouble? What happened?”
“He’s managing all right now, but, as I suggested, he needs to get to the hospital for proper treatment,” Gamez said.
“He’s been stabbed,” interjected Tessier.
The officer looked at Tessier and then Burke. “Is that true? Have you been attacked?”
Burke nodded and pointed to his back. “I was outside and someone stabbed me twice. I couldn’t see a face, though.”
“I couldn’t either,” Tessier said. “I was outside there as well, but it was just too crazy.”
The flic went behind Burke and studied the wounds. “How bad is he?” he asked Gamez.
“The wounds are fortunately minor, but he’ll require a few stitches once he gets to the hospital.”
The policeman returned to face Burke. “Tell me what happened and why you were out there when you were supposed to stay inside.”
Burke could see the flic wasn’t pleased which was odd since Burke was the one who’d been stabbed. Taking a big breath and wincing from the pain in his ribs, Burke gave a short version of what had happened, watching as the officer pulled out a notebook and scribbled down some words.
“Your name?”
Burke gave it and told the flic where he was staying.
“I’ve got other matters to attend to, but I’ll be back shortly,” the flic said. He looked at Gamez. “And you’re sure he’ll be fine?”
Gamez nodded. “He’ll be OK. I’ll stay with him in any case.”
The officer nodded and walked away.
Gamez looked at Burke.
“So, Seῆor Burke, what were you doing in the middle of a riot?”
Chapter 26
Burke figured the least he owed the doctor was an explanation.
“I went out the back door to see something and got caught up in a rush of protestors. I couldn’t get back in.”
“Well, you’re fortunate it didn’t turn out worse for you,” Gamez said. “Are you still doing all right with the pain?”
Burke nodded. “It’s getting a little worse, but I can manage it.”
“If you can handle it, I’d like you to keep sitting rather than lie down. I’m pretty sure you’re not concussed, but it’s better to take precautions. Sitting upright is a better position as long as your wounds, back and ribs aren’t giving you too much grief.”
“I’m fine.”
As an ex-pro cyclist, Burke understood injuries and the need to manage physical distress. He had suffered several broken bones during races and had been forced to cope while waiting to be rushed to hospital. A pro cyclist couldn’t afford to give into pain.
&nb
sp; Gamez moved around to look once more at Burke’s back.
Burke turned to Tessier and grabbed the young man’s hand.
“Jules, you saved me,” Burke said. “I’m very grateful. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have happened.”
Tessier smiled.
“But how did you find me? The last time I saw you, you were in here with everyone.”
“I saw you go out the back door and I figured something had caught your attention,” Tessier said. “Or you were curious about what was happening outside. Madame Godard told us to stay in here, but I expected you were going to do what you wanted even if it wasn’t the smartest move.”
Burke nodded, spotting Godard listening carefully. “I tend to do that on occasion. So, you followed me?”
“I went outside and saw all those people gather you up and take you with them into the square. It didn’t look like you wanted to go with them, but you didn’t seem to have a choice.”
“That’s true.”
“When they went past, I went along the lane to see what was happening.”
“I don’t know how you spotted me. There were so many bodies jammed together and then the tear gas started to take control.”
“I didn’t see you for a few moments and then I noticed you getting punched by some people. It looked like you were in trouble.”
“I was.”
“So I rushed toward you. When everyone started to tumble over, I pushed my way in your direction.”
“Did you see who stabbed me?”
Tessier shook his head. “Too many bodies. Besides, everyone was flailing around.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t quit trying to help me,” Burke said.
Tessier nodded. “One for all and all that stuff.”
“But Jules, where did you learn to fight like that? I mean, you took care of several really big guys in just a second or two.”
“My father was in the French army and his job was teaching hand-to-hand combat. He did it for 20 years. When he wasn’t teaching soldiers, he was instructing me. I started learning how to defend myself when I was five and I’ve never stopped. I’ve got black belts in tae-kwon do and jiu-jitsu. Sort of my hobby.”
“So, you’re a lot more than a stats guy and a tech expert.”
“We all have our secrets.”
Burke saw Godard was open mouthed as she listened. She, too, had figured Tessier was just a quiet guy who preferred stats to people.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Burke saw Nico Menard had joined the show, looking puzzled and a little concerned as he got closer.
“Is that blood on your shirt, Paul?” Menard asked.
Burke shrugged slightly. He was starting to feel pain building in his ribs, back and shoulders. It was going to get ugly soon and Burke knew he’d want pain meds in the next few minutes.
“Are you OK?” Menard asked.
“I’ll be fine. I just need some stitches here and there.”
Menard shook his head. “If there’s trouble anywhere, you have a knack for finding it.”
Burke couldn’t disagree.
Chapter 27
The minutes began ticking by with acute slowness. Burke’s pain was increasing and it took all his effort to talk to anyone. Sensing his distress, most of the people around him disappeared, leaving him with Gamez, Godard, Tessier and Menard.
As an ex-pro cyclist with a dozen broken bones on his physiological resume, Burke was familiar with serious pain. And he had his own way with handling it. It was all about breathing, taking in air slowly, letting it linger for a few seconds and then slowly expunging it. Repeat and repeat. No thinking. Just focus on breathing. Don’t be distracted by pain.
But Burke couldn’t help replay what had happened to him, how he had followed the four caterers, got swept up by an onrushing crowd and been fed into the chaos of the riot where he was beaten and stabbed. He gave a few seconds of thought to the young woman whose nose he had broken. He hated what he’d done to her, but it had been instinctive. And she had been pushing him. Or maybe someone had pushed her into Burke. He cursed himself once more.
As he went through the entire incident again, he couldn’t help think he’d been targeted. He doubted he’d been stabbed by some passing person. That made no sense, especially since no one else seemed to have been stabbed. No, someone had seen him get involved in the chaos of the riot and thought it an opportunity to kill him while being unnoticed. After all, people don’t pay attention to one person bumping into another when hundreds of bodies are colliding and collapsing.
But who wanted him dead? And why?
Burke didn’t have a single idea. He’d done nothing to anyone in recent days. He’d gone about his job and when he hadn’t been working, he’d been in his hotel room watching television or at some café having a meal.
And then he thought about Colin Bothwick.
Bothwick had just been riding his bike and he’d ended up dead.
Was there a link there? Burke thought there had to be. It was just too coincidental otherwise.
Then Burke recalled the rifle shots when he’d been out cycling in the hills outside Peῆíscola. When he’d heard the first shots by the hermitage, the workers there had said it was common for local farmers to try to scare off wildlife from damaging their crops. Then on his way back, Burke had heard more shots and they’d sounded close.
Burke thought about the rifle shots for a few moments and concluded someone had been trying to kill him. There had been an opportunity – Burke was alone, out of people’s sight, in some hills – and someone had seized it. The shots had just not connected.
Burke considered all the other places where he’d been since Bothwick’s death. If someone had tried to kill him in any of those places, people would have noticed. The killer wanted to be invisible and there’d been no other opportunity until the riot in Girona when Burke’s would-be assassin had known that knifing Burke in the middle of such chaos provided the same kind of cover as shooting at him in some hills – people wouldn’t notice until it was too late.
The question was why would anyone want to kill him?
Burke didn’t know.
And then Burke had another thought. What if the person who’d shot at him wasn’t the one who’d stabbed him? Was it possible two different people were hunting him?
“What are you thinking about, Paul?”
It was Suzanne Godard, bent over and staring at him. Burke could see concern on her face but also curiosity.
“I’m just remembering something.”
“What do you remember? The person who tried to kill you?”
“No. Something else.”
“What?”
Burke shrugged and instantly regretted the motion. Trying not to wince, he looked at his boss. “When I’ve been vulnerable.”
“To what?”
“Being murdered.”
Chapter 28
The police officer who’d talked to Burke before returned and interrupted the discussion.
“The ambulances are almost here and we’ve got the riot under control,” he said. “Someone will take you to the hospital for treatment. We’ll have someone talk to you there and get a statement.”
Burke heard ambulance sirens getting closer. It was clear he wasn’t the only one injured. After seeing the melee outside, he expected several dozen people would need to go the hospital.
“One of us will go with you,” Suzanne Godard said.
“There’s no need,” Burke replied. “The wounds are just superficial and they probably won’t keep me there for long.”
Gamez jumped in saying, “I expect they’ll stitch you up very quickly and send you on your way with some antibiotics.”
“See?” Burke said.
“I don’t care,” Godard said. “I’m going to send someone with you. End of discussion.”
Jules Tessier lifted a hand. “I’ll go.”
B
urke smiled. Tessier was his pick, especially after the young man had saved him from calamity during the riot. Besides, he was finding that Tessier was becoming more interesting every time they talked.
“OK, I’ll take Tessier,” Burke said. He turned to the younger man. “Thanks, Jules.”
Tessier nodded.
Fifteen minutes later, two paramedics entered the hall with a stretcher. Someone directed them to Burke.
“You don’t look too badly hurt,” one of the paramedics said, surveying Burke who thought she had the look of someone experienced in such matters. He expected she was in charge. Her nametag said Estrada.
Gamez moved toward the woman and introduced himself. He told the paramedic what he’d done and what he expected Burke would require. Besides Burke’s knife wounds and facial cuts, Gamez mentioned the bruising from various other blows. The paramedic made a couple of notes, thanked the doctor and then turned to Burke, saying, “It looks like you can walk a little.”
Burke said he didn’t need the stretcher. To prove it, he stood and took a few steps without difficulty. The paramedics led him through a crowd of interested bystanders. Jules Tessier followed.
Once outside, Burke was surprised to see most of the rioters were gone although two dozen were being corralled into police vans by heavily armed cops. Three paramedic crews were also busy attending to injured people. As for the square itself, it was a mess with scattered debris and broken shop windows.
The paramedics gently put Burke into an ambulance and permitted Jules Tessier to come along. Estrada secured Burke to a portable bed and re-examined his wounds. Tessier buckled himself into a small seat beside the bed.
“What happened, Seῇor?” she asked.
Burke gave her a brief description about being swept into the riot by a group of protestors and how someone had stabbed him.
“Did you see the person?” Estrada asked, starting to take Burke’s blood pressure.
“No. It was just a mass of falling bodies.”
“Well, if the knife had gone another couple of inches in, you’d have been in real trouble.”
Burke knew he’d been fortunate. The person who’d stabbed him had intended to kill him, not just cause injury.
Silenced in Spain Page 13
