Maciej Roske burst into the medics’ staff room and slammed the door behind him. No one else was there, so he let loose his rage, swearing profusely. Then he took a deep breath, held the air in his lungs for a moment, and released it through his nostrils. He had to repeat the process several times before he calmed down.
Then he grabbed the phone and dialled a number he’d been given to use only if absolutely essential.
‘What’s happened?’ the voice in the receiver asked.
‘Gorzym has happened. A fuck-up has happened, which I can’t clean up. The bloody thug who can’t even . . .’
‘Try breathing slowly and deeply.’
‘I have done, but when I think about him . . .’
‘Tell me what happened.’
‘You’ve got to get rid of people like him,’ said the doctor. He was one of the few people who could talk so directly to the Grey-Haired Man. Most of his other associates had to speak to him with far more deference.
‘Gorzym can be useful.’
‘For burying bodies maybe, but not for this sort of thing,’ protested Maciej. ‘He was supposed to explain the consequences of disobedience, not demonstrate them. He almost killed him.’
‘Calm down.’
The doctor dutifully fell silent and breathed in and out a couple of times.
‘Anyway, the young man wanted to discharge himself from hospital today. I had to give him a fairly powerful sedative.’
‘Can he walk?’
‘Yes, instead of breaking his legs Gorzym remodelled his face.’
The Grey-Haired Man was silent for a moment.
‘Did you explain what’s in store for him?’
‘Yes. He panicked and phoned his boss.’
‘You obviously didn’t do it very well then.’
Roske knew that in the end, he’d probably get all the blame. Gorzym had some sort of hold over his boss, and made good use of it.
‘If they hadn’t nearly killed the boy, he wouldn’t have had any reason to panic,’ argued the doctor. ‘I would have reminded him of his promises, and he would have left the hospital to do what was expected of him.’
There was a momentary silence.
‘Fix it.’
‘How?’ asked the doctor.
‘Speak to him. Remind him that Gorzym can turn up at any time.’
‘He’s going to avoid me like the plague.’
‘You’ve dealt with more difficult situations.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Can I count on you?’
‘Of course,’ Roske replied, though he had no idea how he was going to get Oryński to cooperate. The trainee had had plenty of time to think things through, he wouldn’t be making any hasty decisions.
‘Let him leave hospital,’ said the Grey-Haired Man.
‘I wanted to hold on to him a while longer for a psych . . .’
‘No. It’s time for him to do what he’s got to do.’
‘That might be difficult. He made a huge scene in front of Chyłka and the hospital staff.’
Maciej Roske waited for his boss to respond, but he’d already hung up. He looked at his phone and swore silently.
There was nothing for it, he had to get to work. He looked at the nightshift roster and started making changes. A few minutes and several phone calls later, he had arranged to be on duty that night. He waited for visiting hours to end, then personally escorted Chyłka to the car park. He assured her that everything would be all right and that he had contacted the psychologist, who would visit Oryński in the morning.
She didn’t seem happy with the arrangement, but at least she had left her protégé in hospital. If she had done as Oryński wanted, Roske’s problems would have been far greater.
He limited his night rounds to just a few wards, spending a long time in the one where Oryński lay. He stood over his bed, made sure he was securely strapped in, and proceeded to wake him up. When Kordian opened his eyes, he started flailing around like a wounded animal caught in a snare.
‘Lie still.’
Oryński tried even more desperately to free himself, swearing wildly. Roske sighed and left the room again to finish his rounds. He looked in on other patients here and there to satisfy his professional conscience, then returned to his most important patient some ten minutes later. By then, Kordian had calmed down.
‘You’re in big trouble,’ said the doctor, closing the door behind him.
Oryński looked at him with fury.
‘You’ve caused a lot of problems.’
‘Good.’
‘Oh, really? Do you want to play games with me?’
The boy jerked his hands and gritted his teeth.
‘What have you given me?’ he asked.
‘Still feeling the effects? Weakness? Feeling lightheaded?’
Oryński didn’t answer.
‘I gave you Propofol,’ explained Roske. ‘It’s normally used as an anaesthetic in surgery, but in your case, I made an exception. And let me tell you, there are plenty of other exceptions I can make.’
‘So much for the Hippocratic oath, eh?’
The doctor looked at Kordian as if he was born yesterday.
‘And you, a lawyer, saying that. Unbelievable.’ He shook his head. ‘But let’s stop kidding around, because the situation is very serious. At least, it is for you.’
‘Go to hell.’
Roske sat still for a moment, then pursed his lips and got off the bed. He walked over to the door and looked back over his shoulder.
‘I can go, but you’ll suffer most.’
‘I’ll take that risk.’
‘We don’t want much from you,’ continued the doctor undeterred. For now, it’s only a matter of sorting this out. You only need to tell Chyłka that you weren’t feeling well, that you were dazed or something. You’ll manage.’
‘No.’
‘And then, I’ll discharge you, and we can forget all about the post-traumatic stress incident.’
Oryński said nothing.
‘It won’t take much for me to let Gorzym into the room,’ added Roske. ‘I have keys, I can open every door. And that man has no self-control. There’s no knowing what he’d do.’
Kordian stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily.
‘And he won’t stop at you,’ continued Roske. ‘Gorzym has much more fun with women than with men’.
He looked at his patient and saw how much closer he was to making the only sensible decision. He must have realised that if he didn’t cooperate, they would not only make him suffer, but they’d come for those closest to him.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
Roske grabbed the door handle. ‘I’ll explain it all to you first thing in the morning.’
‘I don’t know when Chyłka will come.’
‘She’ll come as always, in the morning. If you do it quickly, I’ll personally make sure you get discharged.’
Oryński nodded without a word. He had no other choice.