If there’s an aroma that doesn’t fit a black-market doctor in Garage Valley, it’s the smell of dark tea.
Yet that was what reached my nostrils, mingled with the odors of blood and alcohol, as soon as I opened the door. I stopped short.
“Teatime?” I inquired.
“Mm-hmm. Just thought I’d stop for a breather,” Vrach answered from where he lounged on the couch, wearing a surgical garment splattered with blood, machine oil, and spinal fluid. Scattered on the floor at his feet were some lumps of what might as well have been scrap metal—prosthetic arms or legs; I couldn’t even tell.
I guess he must have been doing some serious chopwork—er, I mean surgery.
I stepped carefully around the detritus on the floor and sat down across from him.
“Dead?” I asked.
“No, still breathing.”
“Hmm.”
Good news, that. I really thought so. It was always better if people survived instead of making more corpses. Helping people was such a noble profession.
Nothing like being a Janitor.
“But it’s left me beat. I’ll do an exam if you want, but if it’s not an emergency, give me half an hour, would you?”
“It’s sort of an emergency, but not today.”
I grinned, and Vrach gave me a confused “Huh?”
He sat up, although he looked like he really didn’t want to, and peeled off the mask he was still wearing.
“So you want to make a reservation for an emergency,” he said. “That’s something I don’t hear every day.”
“Oh, it’s not a big deal. Just leave one bed open for a day.”
“Even if someone else comes to me dying?”
“In that case, I can just lie on the floor.”
Vrach made a face worse than if he’d drunk that so-called coffee. It wasn’t anger so much as exhaustion and frustration—well, okay, maybe there was some anger there, too. He couldn’t be happy to hear me say that.
Frankly, it was best for Danila Kragin that it still made him upset. But regardless, I had no choice but to rely on Vrach. People without passports didn’t exist at the hospital any more than they did in the rest of the country. There weren’t many places I could get treatment—treatment I could trust, anyway.
After a long moment, Vrach said, “I know what you do for a living, so I won’t lecture you.” He waited another beat, then sighed, rubbed his tired face vigorously, and sighed again. “But you have told Nora, haven’t you?”
This time it was my turn to frown and click my tongue. I pulled out my envelope and took a few more bills from the increasingly slim bundle. “This is my reservation fee, Doc, along with something for your trouble and something to keep you quiet.”
“I don’t need anything to keep me quiet. I have doctor-patient confidentiality to do that.”
“Then consider it payment for labor.” I stood up and tucked the bills into the pocket of Vrach’s surgical gown.
“Huh. You are quite the brother-in-law, Danila Kragin,” Vrach said as I made to leave.
“You mean future brother-in-law,” I said, grinning. Then I closed the door, making sure the sound could be heard from the kitchen.
On the other side, I could hear Vrach talking to somebody.
“My god. This Janitor job…or maybe it’s just Danila Kragin.”
“Whatever! Danya never asks me for help at times like this. Does he think he can do it all on his own?”
“Don’t pout, Nora. You’re the one who hid when you heard him coming.”
“…Whatever.”
—I trotted briskly away from the scene. The conversation had nothing to do with me.