“You better come in,” he said in hushed tones.
Álvaro already had some stuff ready: a bowl of water, towels, alcohol, cotton, and some instruments that he may have taken from work. Michael hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble on his behalf. A long wooden table had been cleared and placed in the middle of the room. He assumed Álvaro expected him to lie on it.
“Shit, they weren’t lying.” He inspected the more obvious gash on Michael’s arm first before switching his attention to his torso. “Do you have the money?”
“I don’t have anything. My wallet is—”
Miguel and Aleksander both pulled cash from their wallets and handed it over to Álvaro, who stuck it in his back pocket. “Shall we get started then?”
The table didn’t look particularly sturdy and Michael hesitated before putting his whole weight on it, but it did the job.
“Okay. First, I will clean.”
Michael looked up at the gray ceiling and was more comfortable than he had anticipated.
“Ahhh. Shit. You could have warned me.” The stinging pain made him unable to control his words as Álvaro poured alcohol over the wound on his arm.
“I find it’s easier if you don’t expect it.”
“Hmm. I’m not convinced.” Michael braced himself this time and managed to stay almost silent as Álvaro disinfected the injury on his side. He hadn’t even brought himself to look at it. It was best left a mystery to him.
He glanced over at the instruments that lay on a metal tray and decided he should just keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. He wished he could have had a stiff drink before the next stage, but Álvaro said it wouldn’t be a good idea. Maybe he wanted him to feel as much pain as possible, to punish him from keeping him from sleep. Mind over matter. It’s just mind over matter. It definitely hurt, he couldn’t lie about that. It was just about manageable. Alex walked over to the other side of the table and looked down at him. “You’re brave man.” Concentrating on Alex’s face and words distracted him from the pain a little. It was a strange sensation, sometimes sharp pain, but others just a weird pinching feeling. After not too long, Álvaro had finished with his arm and offered Michael to have a break after wrapping it up in some dressing to protect it.
Before starting again, Álvaro forced Michael to eat something and gave him some strong antibiotics. The powdery pills got stuck in his dry throat as he swallowed and disintegrated, leaving a harsh, bitter taste that reminded him of the pentobarbital.
“So. You should put a good word in for me with Josie.”
“I will.” Michael hadn’t told Álvaro the details of what had happened and had kept Josie out of it up until this point.
“Okay. Ready to carry on?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He steeled himself for the next onslaught of pain. After a minute of grimacing and gritting his teeth, he started to get used to it, like when he got his one and only tattoo, he hadn’t got used to it enough to end up having another. The tugging and pinching at his side was somehow less painful than the arm, and it was comforting to know it was almost over. He looked over at Miguel, who was sat on a wooden chair and stared down at the floor. His face was devoid of emotion at that point, nothing behind his eyes.
“There you are.” Álvaro took a square shaped piece of dressing and secured it onto Michael’s side with surgical tape.
Michael breathed a sigh of relief before slowly bringing his legs down over the side of the table. “Would you mind checking this out?” He held up his hand to Álvaro showing his bent finger.
“Ouch. They really did a number on you. Not sure I really have what I need to sort that out.” He thought for a moment and then disappeared into another room for a minute and came back eating an ice-cream.
“Does ice-cream help you think?” Alex asked. Álvaro wolfed down the ice cream in a few mouthfuls and disinfected the wooden ice-cream stick. He held it up to Michael’s fingers and used it as a splint, keeping the pinkie finger joined with the ring finger as he wrapped a bandage around it.
“This will have to do for now. Now I mean this in the nicest possible way. Please get out of my house.”
Chapter Thirty Five
Back on the road again, Aleksander asked that inevitable question. “What are we going to do now?”
“We shoul—”
Miguel interrupted Michael. “I am going to deal with Samuel.”
“And what will you do when you find him?” Michael asked.
“Wrap my hands around his miserable neck.” The empty look he’d had earlier changed. His jaw clenched and his hands were balled into fists as if he was ready to swing a punch at the next person who spoke. The quiet tension in the car was palpable, and then a phone rang, some annoyingly upbeat ring-tone.
Miguel unclenched his hand and picked it up. “Hello,” he said gruffly. “How did you get this number?” The disgust oozed from his voice. Michael knew it was Samuel straight away by the hatred in Miguel’s face. He couldn’t imagine him loathing anyone else that strongly. Eventually Miguel spoke again. “We will be there,” he spat, and hung up.
“What did he say? Is Josie alive?” Michael searched Miguel’s eyes for a reaction.
“He wants me, you and Alex to come to El Verdugo. It has to be all of us. And it has to be alone.”
“The hell we’re going in there alone. God knows how many people he has waiting for us.”
“No Policia. That will guarantee her death.”
“Not this time. If we do this how they want, we all die. If we have
