Lynda La Plante - Deadly Intent: An Anna Travis Mystery

DEADLY

INTENT

L ynda La Plante

Monterrey, Mexico, is not to be confused with Monterey, California.

This Monterrey is a border town whose main industry and source of employment is a massive tile factory. Monterrey is where Dr. Manuel Mendosa has his small surgical clinic. His father had also been a surgeon, attached to the American army in Vietnam. He always maintained that his finest work had been done during the war, as he was able to finesse his reconstructive surgical abilities on the burned and disfigured soldiers.

His only son, Manuel, followed in his footsteps and became a qualified plastic surgeon. He had, under his fathers watchful eye, opened a practice in Mexico City. After his fathers death, Manuel had become addicted to drugs and sunk into debt. Accused of malpractice, he had gone into hiding. Manuel had then been coerced into operating on a known felon, altering the man's features to enable him to escape imprisonment.

Now, known in the underworld for his prowess, he was forced into performing many similar surgical operations. He was paid highly for his skill and silence, but he was nevertheless trapped and in constant fear for his life, should he ever refuse a request.

When Manuel received a call from a Mr. Smith, he knew this was

yet another operation requiring his skill as a surgeon. He knew too that his life would depend upon his silence.

Mr. Smith was not American but English, and his arrival at the

clinic, although expected, was met with trepidation. The patient was so tall he had to stoop to enter the small reception room. He was well dressed in a creamcolored suit and a white T-shirt. He carried a thin leather briefcase.

If Manuel felt trepidation; so did his new client. Miles from anywhere in the border town, he had arranged the meeting on word of mouth, hearing that Manuel was a genius. He had not expected to

confront one of the most handsome men he had ever seen.

. Manuel was slender with beautiful artistic hands, dark hair swept back from a high forehead, every feature of his face chiseled, teeth white and gleaming. His pale blue cotton shirt with its priest collar, almost like a surgeon's short gown, was obviously handmade. The color made his wide, clear eyes even bluer, like azure.

He was sitting expectantly as Mr. Smith entered.

"Good morning," the Englishman said.

"You needed to see me?" Manuel said quietly, in fluent English.

"Yes. That is correct."

"You were recommended?"

"Yes. By ..."

The Englishman said two names that sent chills down Manuel's stiff spine. He knew who they weremen he could not refuse.

"I will pay you in dollars."

Manuel nodded and watched as the big man sat uncomfortably on one of the hard chairs in the reception area. He had no receptionist and no nurses. Only one person assisted him in his operationsan elderly Mexican, Enrico, who had worked alongside his father.

"I will need to take some particulars and discuss exactly what is required."

"Obviously."

Manuel liked his deep resonant voice, the way he appeared respectful. And yet there was a domineering confidence about him.

"Firstly, may I ask your age?"

"Sixty."

Manuel leaned forward and picked up a clipboard from the coffee table.

"Do you suffer from high blood pressure?"

"Slightly."

"Have you had any recent operations?"

"No."

"Do you have any heart problems?"

"No."

"Do you have any allergies?" "No."

"No allergic reactions to antibiotics?"

"None."

Manuel used a slim silver pen to write on his clipboard.

"Have you any blood disorders?"

"No."

"Do you have transport?"

"Yes."

"Somewhere to recover after surgery?"

"Yes."

Manuel replaced the board onto the coffee table.

"Now I need to discuss the exact surgical requirements and modifications you would like me to achieve."

Mr. Smith had started to sweat in the overheated reception; it was eighty degrees outside and there was no air-conditioning in the room. Compared to Manuel, he felt overweight and clumsy.

"I need to look younger."

Manuel nodded, watching as Mr. Smith removed from his pocket a large envelope. He took out a thin folded piece of paper.

"Let me start with the liposuction. I want you to remove the excess fat from my stomach, armpits, and chest area, and I want my buttocks lifted, so they are tighter and stronger. I'll leave it up to you whether implants are required."

Manuel nodded. That part of the procedure was simple.

"I will also want my hands looked at, get rid of the age spots, get my fingerprints lasered."

Manuel nodded and then leaned forward to pick up his clipboard again. He turned over the top page and started jotting down notes.

"How tall are you?" he asked.

"Six feet three and a half."

"Your weight?"

"Nineteen and a half stone."

Manuel tapped the silver pen against his perfect teeth as he calculated what the weight was in kilos. Mr. Smith watched him, struck again by his handsomeness. He wondered if he was homosexual. Manuel wore no wedding ring, no jewelry of any kind, not even a wristwatch, and he seemed to remain cool, not perspiring at all in the oppressive heat.

"You want me to continue?"

"Yes."

"Right. I want a new face. Nose, cheek implants, maybe even a little chin enhancement, and I want the mole on my right cheek removed."

Manuel looked up and stared hard as Mr. Smith concentrated on the notepaper. He could see there were some drawings on it. Mr. Smith was showing his age. His gray hair was worn in a thinning ponytail. He had a hooked nose. His face had slight jowls and was heavily lined, as if he had spent many years in the sun. His lips were thin and his teeth stained yellowish from smoking. His eyes were dark brown and lined at the corners with hooded lids. Yet he was still what one would describe as handsomeor had been at one time.

"May I see that?" Manuel asked, with his hand outstretched.

Mr. Smith passed over the single sheet of paper. Manuel studied it for a considerable time. There were a number of drawings and indications of what plastic surgery was wanted.

"This is very extensive and invasive surgery, Mr. Smith."

"I'm aware of that."

"When do you want to begin?"

"After this meeting."

Manuel continued making his own notes. It was just after ten o'clock in the morning.

"I also want it all done in one session."

"That will be impossible. The liposuction alone will take considerable time and it will be painful, requiring a few days to settle before the bandages can be removed. You will also need to wear elastic surgical bandages to maintain the tightness of the skin."

"Yes, I know."

"So may I suggest we start with the less invasive surgery and then judge how soon you would be fit enough to begin everything else?"

"No. I want everything done as soon as possible. I've brought with me the required amount of Fentanyl in preference to any other anesthetic. Are you familiar with this type of"

Manuel interrupted him. "I'm aware of the use of Fentanyl for emergency surgery and that it is now quite commonly used in many hospitals as a fast means of pain blockage. 1 know how quickly, unlike most anesthetics, it leaves the system. But it's a very potent opiate that can create respiratory depression if oversubscribed. It can be used as an intravenous anesthetic, but I've never employed it."

"I will determine how much 1 need."

"That is a great risk, Mr. Smith, and one I am not prepared to take. You will require a general anesthetic, but it is up to you if you wish to use the Fentanyl as a means of pain relief."

Manuel put his silver pen back into the breast pocket of his shirt. He hoped his request for a general anesthetic would make his client change his mind. It didn't.