The Swiss Suitcase (LSD, #1)

10. Stoned

Stoned

In front of Chemin Bondent 14, I give a big tip to our now forever best friend from Jamaica. Jimmy gives us his card for the next time we want a comfortable and safe passage, Rostov gives Jimmy his phone number and his advice about how to invest his just-received tip on the Russian stock market, and finally, we say goodbye, with the promise to call each other soon but with the hope never to see each other again.

The dentist's door opens when we ring the bell. After climbing two stairs, we enter a hall with oak on the walls and thick carpets on the floor. I ask the receptionist: "A few moments ago, a man entered here. He has Asian looks. Did you see him?"

The receptionist looks troubled: "Yes, he had a lot of pain; a broken molar or something. We put him in the chair immediately. The doctor is next door, changing his clothes. We were already closing, but we can't let that poor man suffer. Is he a friend of yours?"

"Well, not exactly. We're from Interpol. The man in your treatment room is a dangerous terrorist. Please, be so kind to let us speak with the doctor. We don't want anybody to worry or get hurt, but..."

Too late. The poor receptionist worries, thinks for a second if she wants to panic, remembers she's not born in Hollywood so there's no need to start screaming when something happens, she loads up her Swiss Gründlichkeit instead, stands up and makes a gesture that we should follow her into the doctor's dressing room.

Doctor Krohne has the Einstein-looks of someone who should have retired a decade ago, but the sparks in his eyes tell me he likes his job so much that he just can't say goodbye. We shake hands and I present us: "Good afternoon, doctor Krohne. I'm special agent Connery from Interpol and this is my partner, special agent Moore. We followed an extremely dangerous terrorist. It seems he's waiting for you in your treatment room. Do you mind if we take over from here?"

The doctor gives us a puzzled look, mumbles: "A terrorist? Here? In my practice? How nice. I thought this was going to be just another boring day like every other, but I'm glad I was wrong. Of course, you may, gentlemen. My practice, my help and my resources are available to you. If you need something, whatever, just ask and I'll make it happen."

"Doctor's clothes, to start with. Operation masks for both of us would be handy. Do you work with painkillers or anaesthesia? Can you explain to me how they work? And a roll of duct tape would be handy."

The doctor explains what we need to know while we dress.

The receptionist goes and returns with two rolls of duct tape, asking: "Do you need anything else?"

"Privacy.", I suggest.

She opens a door of a cabinet and takes out two mint-green operation masks. The first one makes Rostov's stupid grin disappear. The other one hides my secret identity. Behind the door on the side, we hear moaning and groaning getting worse. Our friend Mister Lee is waiting for a doctor to get him out of his misery.

I enter and scan the treatment room, to make myself familiar with the environment and to give most of the explanations of the doctor a visual connection. Confident, I walk to the chair to make my patient relax: "Good afternoon, Sir. I'm Doctor Krohne."

We shake hands and Mister Lee presents himself: "Good afternoon, Doctor. My name is Lee."

"Christopher?"

"Bruce."

"Is your wife's name Sara?"

"Peggy."

"Are you from China?"

"Korea."

"South?"

"North. Please, Doctor. I'm in a terrible pain. My molar broke in two. It was caused by something I ate."