Page 21 of Wild Temple (Tyson Wild Thriller #84)
I didn’t figure the hospital was a level-one trauma center.
It was in a small, dingy building that looked like it might be able to help set a broken bone or treat a mild infection.
If you needed major surgery, you were probably out of luck.
You’d need a transfer. Good luck with that in the rainy season with washed-out roads.
Though, with the growing city, the hospital would have to grow with it.
The place was overcrowded, understaffed, and supplies were limited.
The most common thing they treated around here were injuries from a moped crash—flip-flops, wet pavement, and no helmets made for some pretty nasty situations.
Their trauma ward was probably pretty competent in that department. Head injuries wouldn’t be uncommon.
Rafi’s guy met us in an alley behind the hospital. He’d loaded the goods into a plastic drawstring bag. He wore royal blue scrubs, and his nervous eyes glanced around as he approached the van. “I could get in a lot of trouble for this, Rafi. ”
“It’s for a good cause,” Rafi assured.
“Let’s see the money.”
I flashed the cash. “Let’s see the goods.”
He opened the bag, and I peered inside. It was all there. Everything I’d asked for—bags of IV fluids, supplies, sanitary wipes, medication. Enough to get Kelsey through the worst of it. I was about to hand over the cash when the guy pulled the bag away.
“Price has gone up.”
I glared at him.
“This stuff was hard to come by. They got cameras on that shit now. I had to make some deals.
“How much?”
He gave me an adjusted price.
“That’s twice what we agreed!”
“Take it or leave it.”
My glare persisted.
I added a little something to the wad of cash and handed it to him as I snatched the bag. “That’s all you’re getting, and it’s more than fair.”
He fanned the money out, counting it, not looking entirely disappointed. He was just trying to bilk me out of as much as he could.
I climbed back into the car, and Jack drove off .
We hustled back to the hotel, and JD pulled to a side entrance.
It wouldn’t be terribly unusual to carry in a drunk girl who had overindulged on Sunset Row.
I didn’t trust Rafi not to take off, so I made him carry Kelsey inside.
JD and Brooke followed. I moved to the driver’s seat, pulled the taxi around, found a place to park, then hustled inside.
In the room, JD and I got Kelsey started on IV fluids. We’d both treated plenty of battlefield casualties in our day. This was a piece of cake.
"I've done everything you've asked," Rafi said. "I need to get to my home and check on my family."
I told Brooke to stay with Jack and help with Kelsey.
She nodded. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
I was her lifeline. Her only chance at finding Hannah.
Rafi and I left the hotel room and headed back down to the parking lot. He cringed when he looked at his car again. It had taken a beating.
I told Rafi to take the wheel.
I pulled open the door, swiped away the broken glass in the front passenger seat, then climbed in. I gave Rafi the keys, and he fired up the engine.
"If you try anything funny, I will kill you," I said, brandishing my pistol once again.
"I have no funny ideas.” He paused. “Actually, I have plenty of funny ideas. I want to be a stand-up comic. That is my dream." He put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.
We headed out of town.
"You want to hear some of my material?”
I gave him a skeptical look. "Not really."
He frowned. "It's good. You like. You could use a laugh.”
He was right about that.
"Okay. Let's hear what you've got."
Rafi took a moment to get into character.
When he did, his colorful personality came alive.
His delivery was short and punchy. “I drive tourists around all day and all night. From the airport to the bars, you name it. They always ask me stupid questions. Rafi, are you from around here? No, I’m from Wisconsin.
I moved all the way here to drive your drunk ass around and clean puke from my car. It makes my life complete.”
His routine was mildly amusing so far.
“Westerners come here to unplug and digital detox . They want to get close to nature . Then, they check into a hotel with air conditioning and free Wi-Fi. You want to get close to nature? Go spend the night in the jungle with mosquitoes the size of attack helicopters. Let me know how that works out for you.”
I may have chuckled.
“A girl got into my cab the other day. Said she was here to heal ancestral trauma and cleanse her aura . I said, honey, drink the tap water. That will cleanse your aura. ”
“Okay, you might be onto something,” I said, amused.
“Oh, I got more,” Rafi said.
He proceeded to go through his entire routine on the 20-minute drive through the jungle to an inland village. I had to give him credit. The routine wasn’t terrible. It passed the time. I figured he ran the act on every tourist that got into his cab.
A good stretch of the drive was down a reddish clay road that looked like it must have been hell during the rainy season.
The homes were grouped in clusters—simple poured-concrete structures with pitched A-frame roofs that offered lofts above the main living area.
Modest accommodations, to be sure, but still keeping that island feel—a blending of interior and exterior spaces exposed to the elements.
There was no air conditioning in homes like these.
The houses were designed with plenty of opportunities to catch a cool breeze passing through.
Lazy ceiling fans would keep the air circulating.
Beds shrouded in mosquito netting kept the critters at bay.
I kept a watchful eye as Rafi pulled to the curb in front of his home. It was set back from the street, hidden behind dense foliage and palm trees. Steep steps led up the hill to the tiny home in the jungle.
Rafi killed the engine, and we both climbed out.
With my head on a swivel and my palm gripped tight around my pistol, I followed Rafi down the walkway toward his home.
We climbed the steps to the secluded abode.
The sounds of the night filled the air, and the moon glowed overhead. The stars flickered above .
There were no lights on in the house.
We made our way up to the veranda, which offered a nice place to relax on a daybed. There were a few chairs nearby.
Keys jingled as Rafi pulled them from his pocket and slipped a key into the slot. He twisted the handle and cracked the door open with a delicate touch. In a whisper, he said, "Wait here.”
I wasn't about to let Rafi out of my sight.
The door creaked as he pushed it open.
The living room was pitch black.
Rafi reached a hand inside. He grabbed something, then came back swinging.
In a flash, a baseball bat rushed toward my face.
I blocked the blow with my left forearm and grabbed the bat. I came across with a hard right, clocking Rafi in the cheek with the butt of my pistol. It opened a gash in his face and wrenched his head aside.
I pulled the bat from his grasp as he fell into the house, crashing against the hardwoods.
I stormed inside, flipped on the light, and aimed my pistol at him as he regained his composure on the floor. A welt had already sprouted on his cheek.
With my pistol aimed at him, his eyes rounded with fear. “Rafi, is that any way to treat guests in your home?”