Deadly Intent Read Free Page A

waited as Enrico cleaned up the bloody bandages and gauze. He unwrapped the bandages from around Mr. Smith's head, checked his stitches were healing, and instructed Enrico to rebandage.
"You are healing very well, Mr. Smith." "My arse feels like I got some rabid animal chewing on it!" Neither Manuel nor Enrico showed they were amused; they left as quickly as possible. On the fourth day, Mr. Smith got up and walked around the suite. It was painful but he forced himself to move. He still did not eat but sent down for more water, lemons, and honey, and continued to use his Fentanyl stash to give him relief and help him sleep. By day seven he was feeling stronger. Fully dressed, he walked down through the hotel reception to meet his driver. Manuel was waiting at the surgery. He could see that his patient was making a remarkable recovery and could walk unaided from the car. They went straight into the operating room; Enrico had already prepared a tray with disinfectant swabs and needle-sharp scissors. There were still extensive black bruises almost covering the padent's entire torso. However, the small incisions were healing well, and Enrico cleaned them and replaced the small round plasters. Manuel then asked his client to sit in a chair beneath a strong lamp, and he personally unwound the head bandages. The fine, delicate stitches were snipped one by one and Mr. Smith could hear a faint sound as each was placed into a stainless-steel bowl. Once the last area of plaster across the nose had been removed, Manuel leaned close to inspect his work."Good, very good."
Mr. Smith examined himself in a mirror. His face was puffy and the scars were still red, but none were infected, and within hours the narrow bridge of his nose would broaden. His thinning hair was dirty and the ponytail was caked in blood. He had not had a total browlift because of his receding hair; hair plugs would have made the skin too stretched and raw.
"How soon can I get plugs done for a hairline?" he asked Manuel.
"In a couple of weeks, 1 would suggest."
"What about the teeth? I can begin a series of dental implants, can't I?"
"Yes, of course."
Manuel was astonished that his patient gave no reaction to his finished work. It was, even by his standards, a superb transformation. The man hardly resembled himself, yet he seemed intent only on leaving as quickly as possible. Manuel was paid twenty-five thousand dollars in used notes, packed into a large brown envelope. Smiling, Mr. Smith passed over a second envelope containing the extra ten thousand dollars.
Manuel placed the money into the pocket of his wheelchair without counting it.Then Mr. Smith surprised him. He was about to click shut the briefcase when he hesitated and removed a small square box which he passed over to Manuel.
"A little extra gift," he said. "Enjoy ..."
He strolled out, albeit stiffly because the liposuction soil made it uncomfortable to walk. His suit hung as if too large and he placed a cream cotton cap on his head to cover his scalp and donned a pair of dark sunglasses. Back in his hotel room, Mr. Smith spent almost an hour staring at his reflection in the dressing-table mirror. It was an amazing transformation: his chin and neck were taut and the cheek implants made his face look chiseled. His lips were still puffy but his nose was looking much better. Before, he had had an aquiline, almost hooked nose; now it was small but perfectly straight.
After a much-needed shower, he looked again at his reflection. Gone was the beginning of a paunch and he had regained a muscular slenderness. In fact, he had dropped at least fifteen years; by the time he had his hair transplants and new teeth, he reckoned he would look no more than late forties or early fifties.
Enrico had returned home to his family. As ever, Manuel had been very generous, but he was concerned. The box had contained four vials of Fentanyl, and when he had tried to take it, Manuel had snapped at him to leave it in the fridge. Fentanyl