Too Many Cooks

Chapter 15

Raoul cried as he removed the mess of gauze and tape from the stump where his hand was. Blood dripped into the sink and he jammed a plug into the drain and turned on the cold water. From the ice bucket he dumped the contents into the water then when it was full enough he plunged the stump into the mix and groaned aloud, his feet doing a little tap dance from the excruciating pain. He pulled it out and wrapped it in a hotel room towel, drying it tenderly and then, with awkward difficulty he applied gobs of antibiotic cream and a fresh gauze pad then wrapped it like a hockey stick with adhesive tape. He went to the bed and removed a pillowslip and slid it over his arm using more tape to hold it in position and finally he replaced his shirt and examined the result in the bathroom mirror.

He would have to get to a hospital soon in case of infection but as long as he was in Argentina that was out of the question. The question was, where could he go... and how? Raoul checked the street outside the hotel and calculated whether or not he could risk going out for some food. After a few indecisive moments he surrendered to his aching stomach and left the hotel by the service door and used the lane to get to the next street.

Several vendors offered roasted corn and barbequed beef and Raoul greedily bought and consumed more than normal, finishing with a few bottles of cervesa. He found a liquor store and bought a large bottle of tequila and then when it became dark he slipped back to the hotel and his room. Before turning on he lights he went to the window and checked the street once more then sighing, he set his bottle on the dresser and turned on the light.

"MERDE!" He fell back against the door and scrabbled at the knob with his only hand.

Thorn stood from the chair and crossed the room in two strides, throwing Raoul on the bed and jamming a chair under the doorknob.

"Thorn, I can explain! Please let me explain!" He skidded backwards on the sheets to the headboard, pulling his knees up to his chest. The giant Guaicuru native calmly removed a long, thick-bladed knife from inside his jacket and Raoul sobbed. "No... please. Please, Thorn."

He grabbed Raoul's ankle and hauled him down the bed then knelt on his leg while shoved the pillow over his face. Raoul thrashed and struggled but the native was too big and too strong and his one hand was useless for any practical defense. Thorn shifted his weight onto Raoul so that he couldn't move and then he held up the arm with the stump and shoved the huge knife blade through Raoul's carefully wrapped bandage. The scream was muffled under the pillow but the shock of the blade twisting inside the stump ended it quickly as Raoul passed out.

*****

"We have to get out of this country now before we do anything else so has anyone got any suggestions?" Terry drew on the bottle of cervesa from Carlos' fridge. He sat on a Spanish style straight-backed chair with his arms lashed to the seat and his maid sat in another chair near Ebony. Wilfred and Hoyte surfed through the Internet looking for transport of any kind that would see them safely out of Argentina and eventually, South America.

"Our best bet is private boat or plane. Anything public will be way too risky, particularly with the trail we've left across the country." Hoyte said.

"A plane sounds a lot quicker, and the quicker the better." Ebony offered.

"But a boat doesn't have to file any destination plans... not generally anyway."

"Whatever is available will decide that, guys." Terry said, finishing the beer and glancing at Carlos. "We also have to decide about him."

"I know what I wanna do." Hoyte scowled.

"I can do nothing to hurt you now. You have the money, I can do nothing." Carlos pleaded.