Page 127 of Capuleto

One was almost my height, the other, ten centimeters shorter but quite strong. Those two weren't there when I checked the room with María.

They were approaching Aleksa. I looked them up and down again. Those couldn't be healthcare workers, especially not with that footwear. Hadn't anyone noticed?

I glanced around. I took a pair of sharp scissors from an instrument tray and grabbed a wheeled crash cart.

Upon hearing a word in Russian, I knew I had to attack. They were already close to Aleksa's bed.

I jumped like a predator and stabbed the scissors precisely between the C1-C2 vertebrae. A precise and deep puncture usually resulted in the loss of involuntary movements, like breathing. Yuri's man collapsed to the floor, needing air that wouldn't come. The taller one turned around in surprise. I saw the glint of his weapon in his right hand, and he received a kick to the wrist before he could shoot me. It flew several meters away.

The man growled and grabbed his hand. The crack I heard indicated a broken ulna or radius. Despite the pain, he lunged at me.

I hid behind the crash cart with one thing in mind.

In the army, I learned to use a defibrillator. Receiving an electric shock was just what that bastard needed. I raised the paddles to maximum power and fried that pig, who fell to the floor.

"What is happening?" Catalina's voice slapped my back. She screamed upon seeing the scissors protruding from the short Russian's neck and the pool of blood soaking his lifeless body. "I'm calling security!" she screamed, terrified. I wasn't going to chase her, not without finishing the job. Her threat wouldn't stop me.

I ran to where the weapon had fallen, and as soon as I had it in hand, I turned back to where Yuri's second worker had collapsed. Unfortunately, he was no longer there.

Where the hell had he gone?

Screams from the area where I had put on the PPE set off all my alarms. The Russian ran out like a damn coward in front of the fishbowl, knocking over María, who was returning with her clipboard.

I didn't think. I aimed and fired.

52

Is it her?

If there was someone I didn't expect to find in the hospital cafeteria, it was Segarra.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

It wasn't usual for someone like him to approach someone like me in a public place. Sure, it was nighttime, and there weren't many people in the cafeteria, but he had always been very cautious with our particular association.

He glanced at the three people sitting at the table in the corner. All of them had red eyes from crying for quite a while. His scrutinizing gaze stopped at a guy nervously pacing by the counter, talking about how his wife had gone into labor and the baby was coming breech. His eyes then shifted to a couple of girls who looked like their drinking session had gone out of control. Finally, he ruled out the danger posed by a mother breastfeeding her infant. He asked if he could sit in the chair across from me. He didn’t intend to take much of my time. Of course, I invited him to do so; he wouldn’t risk it unless he had something urgent to tell me.

"How long have we been working together?" he asked, crossing his hands to rest his chin on them.

"You mean how long you've been getting a bonus even when it’s not Christmas? Is this your way of asking for a raise?" I replied. He offered me a smile.

"Don’t complain about what you pay me; I’m an investment."

"Uh-huh, some prefer to invest in the stock market, and others prefer corrupt cops. It’s a matter of taste."

"Or necessity," he added.

"So, what brings you here? A raise or saying you're retiring? Your gray hairs have multiplied lately."

"You don’t want to know," he replied, rubbing his temples. "Neither, it’s not about that."

He took one of the napkins from the counter and began folding it. The waiter came over to ask if he wanted anything. Segarra declined, and I took the opportunity to order a black coffee.

"Get to the point, I doubt you came all this way to give me a paper-folding workshop."

"It's a habit," he clarified without stopping. "First of all, I know you're here for your wife. I hope it’s not serious."

"An infected wound, nothing you need to worry about."