Chapter 16

Vika felt a frisson of apprehension. Why this sneaking around? Why couldn’t they just use the front entrance of the hospital? Surely it can’t be just to cash in on blats. Surely not, she said to herself as she dismissed the thought. There was no need to be cynical.

She herself was healthy as a horse. In fact, she had never been inside a hospital. She had never had children, never broken a bone, never had a nervous breakdown. But now, feeling squeamish, she scrunched up her face. Would she encounter terminal patients, gasping for their last breath?  See open wounds or other gruesome indignities caused by illness? Would she hear screams of agony? Would she… Stop it! she ordered herself. She really had to get a grip.

Trying to breathe normally, Vika followed Arsy as he led the way around the grounds and to a back door. It was pitch black. She looked up at the sky. Were there any stars? At least one—to wish on? There were none.

Only a dim light illuminated a stout figure slouching by the door. That must be Vera, Arsy’s cousin or sister (she couldn’t remember which) who had been waiting. Stepping closer Vika saw the middle-aged, grim-faced woman with arms crossed over her ample bosom. The woman nodded at Arsy when he approached but ignored Vika. There were no introductions. The two spoke briefly in Russian.

Arsy turned to Vika. She knew right away what he wanted and pulled a fifty euro note from her wad. Am I paying my way into a house of horrors, she asked herself grimly. This was no longer a film set. This was not an episode of Dr House or ER. This was real life. What the hell was she doing here anyway? Was it too late to turn around and run? But then what?

Satisfied with the payment, Vera gave a “follow me” hand signal and ushered them inside. And that’s when the smell hit her. Vika had to hold on to the wall to support herself. Disinfectant mixed with something else. She felt nauseated. Was she about to catch some infectious disease? For a brief moment, she panicked. She was really spooked. And even more spooked when Vera indicated that both Arsy and Vika were to leave their outerwear in a corner of the room. She gave each of them a blue lab coat. So now Vika was impersonating a hospital worker? The film had ended; this felt more like a dream. She was standing back, watching her dream-self creep into a hospital. Her dream-self wanted to wake up. But couldn’t.

The light was faint in the cramped entry way. To the right was a narrow staircase. As if sleepwalking, Vika felt her way along, following right on Arsy’s heels. They met no one. On the third floor landing Vera carefully opened a door. She paused a moment and looked around before signaling that Arsy and Vika should follow her to the ward.

Vika pasted a tentative half smile on her face—partly to reassure herself, partly because it was habitual. Smiling was a big thing in America; not so much here (as she had already noticed). She hadn’t brought along Svetlana’s briefcase, not having been sure that she’d come face to face with her. Clearly she hadn’t thought this through. Just winging it, without a plan. Not good on so many levels.

A door opened and just like that. Presto! Here Svetlana was! The patient was propped up in bed, very pale, bruised and battered but far from death’s door. Four other people shared the room. Curtains separated the sickbeds. Sounds of coughing and the occasional loud moan penetrated the room.

Closing the door softly behind her, Vera disappeared—only to stand guard in the hallway.

There was shocked silence at Svetlana’s bedside. Arsy stared wide-eyed. A few moments went past before he recognized her. Could it really be the gorgeous Svetlana who had delivered him a message from Juris Lapins? Arsy had always feared the aged ex-KGB officer who had amassed great wealth in real estate transactions and shady deals of all kinds.

Vika had to stop herself from pulling out the minibar bottles of booze which she had stashed in her purse. There were hardly enough to share. Just glancing at him, she could tell Arsy was dying for a cigarette.

“What are you doing here?” Svetlana croaked, raising herself to a seated position. Under her eyes were black and blue bruises. Her right arm was in a sling and her head was bandaged.

Looking at one and then at the other, she seemed not to be able to figure out what Arsy and Vika were doing together.

Vika took her courage in both hands and stepped forward. “I saw what happened to you. It was terrible. I want to help.”

A guttural sound escaped Svetlana’s throat. “Help! How can you help?”

Vika had taken the chair next to the bed. Sitting forward she asked, “ Do you have any idea who would want to hurt you? Did you see the driver?”

Svetlana let out a long sigh. Then she breathed deeply as if summoning up her strength. “I thought… maybe…I…” Again, that guttural uh. Svetlana looked exhausted. She slumped back on her pillow and closed her eyes.

“Water! You must have something to drink. Is there no fruit juice?” Vika’s voice was close to hysterical as she  looked at the bare bedside table. Arsy said he’d slip outside and try to get Vera to bring something—a cup of tea, some juice. Moments later he returned. Vera did not want to attract attention. They should be leaving. The nursing shift was about to change.

Svetlana’s eyes suddenly shot open. “Yes. I remember. I know the guy. I’ve seen him before. But where?”

Arsy had the horrible feeling that the driver could well be one of the thugs he’d seen around Juris. He knew that those guys were ruthless. Ready to get rid of anyone who had served their purpose.

Vika started to rise from her chair. Arsy stepped towards the door. Svetlana pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her eyes were wild and desperate.

She grabbed Vika by the sleeve. “Don’t leave me!”