‘At last!’ Kordian cried out in greeting. ‘What took you so long?’
‘Traffic.’
They looked at one another as never before. As if everything depended on that exchange of looks.
Kordian struggled to get out of bed. Joanna rushed to help him free himself from all the medical apparatus.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said as she took him under the arm. ‘We need to hurry . . .’
‘Not until you tell me what it’s all about.’
‘You have to trust me.’
‘Oh no, Zordon, we’re not playing that game,’ she protested. ‘You’re not going to be another Langer. That’s out of the question.’
‘I’ll tell you on the way.’
‘No. Tell me now.’
He looked at her reproachfully and wondered for a moment what he should do. He glanced nervously at the corridor, not doubting for a moment that Gorzym’s messenger was somewhere nearby, perhaps even listening in on the conversation. If he said anything now, it would be signing his own death warrant.
‘For God’s sake, Zordon, tell me what’s going on,’ she urged him.
He swallowed and made up his mind.
‘That doctor, Roske,’ began Kordian. ‘He came up to me not long ago.
He said he was sent by the thugs who beat me up. He threatened me, saying that they would do it again.’
‘Why would a doctor threaten you, Zordon?’
Oryński stepped back, looking at her in dismay. There was no surprise in her voice, she took in everything he said with total calm.
‘Exactly,’ cut in Roske as he entered the room. ‘Why?’
Kordian took another step back. His legs were shaking.
‘Please leave,’ said Chyłka, looking pointedly at the corridor.
‘If the patient wishes to leave the hospital, it is my duty to inform him of the possible consequences. I also need his decision in writing,’ countered the doctor. ‘Otherwise, I won’t be able to discharge him.’
Kordian moved back a little more.
‘Relax,’ said Roske. ‘No one’s keeping you here by force. We just have to go through the formalities.’
‘So send someone else,’ said Kordian. ‘I have no intention . . . I shan’t . . .’ he paused and turned to Chyłka. ‘They’re all . . .’ he whispered. ‘They’re all in it together.’
Joanna looked at Oryński, then at the doctor.
‘They’re all in it together,’ Oryński repeated in an undertone, as if Roske, who was right next to them, wouldn’t be able to hear. ‘This is something really big. I don’t know what it’s about, but you’ve got to talk to Langer.’
Joanna had talked to Langer. She had found out a few things, but nothing that could explain Kordian’s beating. Now she looked at him, half hoping he would suddenly smile and say that he and the doctor were just pulling her leg.
‘Get me out of here, Chyłka. Do this for me.’
She didn’t know what to say. Everything she was seeing now confirmed what Roske had told her.
‘Chyłka!’
‘Relax, Zordon.’
‘I have to do my rounds,’ said the doctor. ‘So if you don’t want to wait until I’ve finished, I suggest we complete the formalities now.’
‘We’ll wait.’
‘No!’ protested Oryński.
He hobbled towards the door, full of nervous energy. He went straight for the doctor, as if he wanted to knock him down. Fortunately, Roske had fast reflexes, and caught the patient as he started to topple.
‘Let go of me!’
He tried to break free, but Roske was holding him tight. Joanna looked on in helpless despair.
‘Chyłka!’ He was pleading for help.
She could see he was trying desperately to get away, and that the doctor had stopped him, although it had taken considerable effort. Now Zordon was trying to headbutt him.
‘Can . . . you . . . help me?’ said Roske to Chyłka.
Oryński moved sluggishly, as if in slow motion, but he was still difficult to contain. Finally, Roske shouted something in the direction of the corridor, and three nurses rushed into the room. Seeing the doctor in danger, they threw themselves on the patient.
‘Hey!’ protested Chyłka. ‘Easy now!’
Kordian was yelling at the top of his voice as the hospital staff forced him onto the bed. He was writhing, even with his legs in splints, and Joanna was sure he’d damaged his dressings. He was still shouting when they strapped him to the bed. Then suddenly he stopped, and quietly begged Chyłka to help him.
She looked away, she couldn’t watch. She felt like a complete bitch, turning her back on someone in need.
‘Please come with me,’ said Roske striding to the door.
Chyłka followed him uncertainly, trying to ignore Oryński who was trying to convince her he was in danger.
‘What’s all this about?’ she asked the doctor after they had gone outside and closed the door. ‘When he arrived here, he was fine mentally, but now . . .’ she paused and shook her head.
‘As I say, this is a complicated matter. Only the psychologist will be able to . . .’
‘What will happen to him?’
‘That depends on his family,’ replied the doctor. ‘If you could give us any details, I’d be most grateful.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Roske nodded.
‘For now, I’m going to give him Propofol, because it looks like he needs to calm down.’
Chyłka had no idea what this was, but she had no reason not to trust the doctor.
‘I’d like you to sit with him afterwards, if possible.’
‘No problem.’
For a moment, she sat in silence, looking carefully at Roske. Her profession brought her into contact with liars and all kinds of other scum, and she could usually spot deception and duplicity a mile away. But he seemed sincere. Besides, how on earth could he be involved in a plot?
The whole Langer case was suspect – and from what Langer had told her, she had reason to believe he’d been framed. But somehow, for the first time, she didn’t trust him. Likewise, she didn’t believe someone had it in for Zordon.
On the other hand, mental illness was even less likely. Perhaps it was shock? After all, Oryński had been beaten so severely that he could easily have been a goner.
In the end, Chyłka decided shock was the most likely explanation. She waited until Roske had administered the sedative, then sat down on the side of the bed and placed her hand on the boy’s hand. Kordian gazed unconsciously at the ceiling and seemed quite unaware of her presence. And yet, she was not planning on going anywhere.