The Savage Dead by Joe McKinney Page B

expression remained pleasant. If he had any idea of the heartache he’d caused her over the years, all the things she swore she’d never do but did anyway just because of what he meant to her, he made no sign of it.
    Oh, he knew, she thought. He knows everything there is to know. He’s the only man who knows everything there is to know about me.
    He just doesn’t care.
    Ramon turned to his bodyguards and gave instructions for the injured men at Pilar’s feet to be brought inside.
    “That one there, the one that’s all beat up, take him to Dr. Rosato. Tell him I want a demonstration on the floor in fifteen minutes.”
    The men were removed inside, and Pilar and Ramon were left alone. He stood to one side and ushered her inside.
    “What, no hug?” she said.
    His smile broadened. “It is good to see you, Pilar. I missed you.”
     
     
    “What exactly am I looking at?” she said.
    She was standing in Ramon’s office, staring through a pane of one-way glass. On the other side of the glass was a fairly large open room, a few boxes here and there, some rusting pieces of machinery, a few doors along the back wall.
    Aside from the men she’d injured outside, now sprawled out on the floor, there was nothing much of interest.
    Ramon flicked his wrist, checking the time on his slim gold watch.
    “Any minute now. It takes about ten minutes for someone as badly injured as our friend out there to feel the effects.”
    “When did you get the watch? I don’t remember you ever wearing jewelry.”
    He gave her his best smile, perfect white teeth gleaming in the lamplight from his desk. “Do you like it? It was a gift.”
    “From who?”
    “Does it matter?”
    She turned away. “You’re a bastard.”
    “Come on, Pilar. Don’t be like that.”
    She didn’t take the bait. She wasn’t going to get into this again. How many times could he play her like this, keep her coming back for more like she was on some kind of string?
    How many times would she let him?
    Nodding toward the window, she said, “Tell me what I’m supposed to be looking at.”
    He stood up from his desk and came over to the window to stand by her side.
    “I’ve diversified quite a bit over the years. Drugs and weapons pay well, but the real money is in investing. American sports franchises, banks, software startups, you name it. And, among other things, I happen to own significant interests in six different biomedical research firms, which is why you’re here.”
    She nodded toward the man she’d pistol-whipped. He was on his back, a puddle of blood forming around his head. “I don’t think biomedical research is going to help that guy.”
    “No,” he said. “You’re right about that. He’s definitely a dead man.”
    “So what am I supposed to be looking at?”
    “Just wait.” He looked at his gold watch, and then flashed that disarming smile of his again. “It should be any minute now.”
    She scowled, but said nothing.
    Pilar turned her attention back to the three men out in the middle of the warehouse floor. Two of them were moving, rising shakily to their feet. The third wasn’t going anywhere, though. She could see that from here.
    Must have done more damage than I thought, she realized. Of course, the bastard deserved—
    The thought broke off cleanly. The man she’d injured so badly was convulsing. He was coughing blood all over the floor. She’d seen men die from beatings before, and that wasn’t what was happening here. It looked more like something was inside him, and trying to tear its way out.
    “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
    “Just watch.”
    The room wasn’t lit very well, but as the man flopped around on the floor, Pilar got a pretty good look at his features. He was ghastly. Something was wrong with his face. She’d smashed him up pretty severely, but she hadn’t caused that. Not those injuries. The cuts on his face looked black. That wasn’t bruising. She could see that. That was disease. And the skin