Page 61 of Gone Before Goodbye
“Yeah, no shit.”
“It’s an unhealthy crutch. You don’t need it.”
“What I really don’t need,” Maggie replies, “is mental health tips from an oligarch’s lackey. Give me my phone, please.”
Another man—Maggie recognizes him as one of the guards from last night—runs up to Brovski. The man is big, with a giant rectangular head. It’s as if someone just dropped a cinder block between his shoulders. He looks Maggie over with disgust, as though she’d dropped out of the back of a dog’s behind, and whispers something in Brovski’s ear. Brovski’s eyes close in what appears to be exhaustion. Then Brovski barks what sounds like an order in Russian. CinderBlock nods—tricky when you have no neck—and hurries over to another big man in another ill-fitting black suit.
“What’s going on?” Maggie asks.
“It’s time for you to leave, Doctor McCabe.”
“Wait, what?”
“The helicopter will be here within the hour.”
“I just finished the surgeries.”
“An hour should give you time to shower and change.”
“I told you up front. I need to stay with the patients—”
“No, you don’t. I’m here. We have staff. The surgeries went spectacularly. As I mentioned before, you are as gifted as your reputation.We will let Doctor Barlow know how pleased we were with your services. If you’ll excuse me—”
“I want my phone.”
“You’ll get it when you depart.”
Maggie is confused. Why the sudden rush? Why the change in demeanor? Maggie isn’t big on vibes, but the whole vibe here has taken an unexpected turn for the worse.
“Oleg Ragoravich isn’t in his room,” Maggie says.
“That’s not your concern.”
She looks down by the front door. Two more men in ill-fitting black suits rush outside.
“Tell me about Nadia.”
Brovski looks annoyed by the question. “What?”
“Where is she originally from?”
“I have no idea.”
“Come on, Ivan. You know everything about me.”
“Because you’re a physician hired for discretion and ability. So yes, of course, we vetted you.”
“And you don’t vet the boss’s mistress?”
“Exactly. He said not to, so we didn’t.”
More black-suited men rushing back and forth.
“I have to go,” he says.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Shower, get changed. I’ll bring your phone to your room. Then you can leave.”
