much as he loathed the thought, he considered moving back to Calcutta where he’d been born to continue making a living the only way he knew how. He sold his car, the last remaining possession of value he had, in order to buy the air ticket. But two days before he was due to leave America he was approached by a man who said he represented the Felix Corporation in Houston and that they had a job they would like him to consider.
When Mani started to explain he was no longer able to practise the man said he knew everything about Mani’s past and that the Indian had all the right qualifications for the job. By that he meant Mani was not only a doctor but was also corrupt. And there was no need to be concerned about the legalities since the job was not on the American mainland.When Mani learned the whereabouts of his new practice he brought up the obvious point that the prison was still in sovereign waters. It was explained to him that certain legal technicalities allowed him to work offshore as a medical-supplies officer as long as he didn’t call himself a doctor.
As a medical-supplies officer Mani was permitted to give demonstrations to the guards of how to use the most basic of equipment, which he was required to do whenever there was an illness or injury. It was one of the reasons why Gann felt free to come and go as he pleased - not that the man needed a reason. Gann enjoyed watching Mani ply his trade, the more serious the medical problem the better.
Mani loosened Durrani’s trousers and pulled them down to expose his abdomen. He felt around the area, firmly pressing the flesh in places in search of any muscle tightening that might indicate an internal injury. Finding no obvious signs of damage he realigned the scanner and slowly moved it from Durrani’s ribcage onto his abdomen. As it moved down to Durrani’s hips a small black object just above his groin area appeared on the monitor.
Mani’s brow furrowed as he tuned the scanner’s focus. The object became clearer.
‘What’s that?’ Gann asked.
‘I have no idea.’
‘He swallow something?’
‘It’s not in the gut,’ Mani said as he examined the flesh to find the small pink scar.
‘Maybe it’s a piece of shrapnel,’ Gann suggested.‘These guys’ve been in all kinds of shit.’
‘Maybe,’ Mani muttered as he took a closer look at the object on the monitor.‘It doesn’t look like a random splinter or a bullet. That bit there.’
Gann drew closer to the monitor, squinting as he examined the dark patch.‘No shit.That ain’t no shrapnel.’
Mani went back to Durrani’s abdomen and felt around the scar, prodding his fingers into the flesh.
‘Cut it out,’ Gann suggested enthusiastically.
‘You think I should?’ Mani was unsure.
‘Sure as shit you cut it out.’
‘I should call Mandrick.’
‘Look, pal. I’m tellin’ you to cut that out. He’s got somethin’ in there. He’s smuggled it in. He could come to at any time and . . . I dunno, maybe activate it or somethin’.’
‘I don’t think it’s a bomb,’ Mani said sardonically.
‘Maybe it’s some kinda suicide device. If he wakes up he might kill himself.’
‘I didn’t think the Taliban were that sophisticated.’
‘Maybe he ain’t a Talibuttfuck. Maybe he works for the Russians.’
Mani thought that sounded just as ludicrous. ‘I think we should go and see Mandrick.’
‘OK. I’ll stay here. But if he starts comin’ to I’ll cut it out myself.’
Mani believed Gann would do it too, and probably with his penknife. He ran his fingers through his thick short black hair, frustrated by his indecision. ‘OK,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll open him up and take a look.’
‘It ain’t gonna do him no harm anyhow.’
‘I’ll do it, OK?’ Mani whined, taking a paper bag off a nearby silver trolley and opening it. Inside was a plastic bowl with a collection of surgical instruments each in its own sterile bag, an assortment of absorbent gauzes and a pair of plastic gloves. He took a syringe and a small bottle from a drawer under the counter top, removed the sterile cover from the syringe, pushed the needle through the top of a bottle and drew out some of the liquid.
‘He don’t need anaesthetic.’
‘The pain might wake him up and that would not be a good idea if I’ve got my hand inside him at the time.’
‘I’ll take care of him if he wakes up, don’t you worry about that.’
Mani shook his head, containing his impatience and anger. He wanted to tell Gann he was the biggest idiot he had ever met but the satisfaction might come at an unacceptable price. ‘Would you mind just staying back and allowing me to do my job, please?’
Gann frowned as he took a step back and leaned against the counter.
Mani injected Durrani’s skin in several places around the small scar, placed the syringe on the trolley and pulled on the gloves. He inspected the scar closely again, pulling at the skin lightly to test its elasticity. He pulled the sterile wrapping from a scalpel and positioned it over the skin. Gann leaned forward to get a closer look.
Mani cut into the flesh, keeping the incision to the length of the scar. Blood immediately dribbled down the side of Durrani’s abdomen. Mani wiped it and dabbed the cut. The bleeding was minimal. Mani stuck a finger into the opening and moved it around. He couldn’t feel anything solid and pushed a couple of fingers in up to his knuckles. He shook his head in frustration as he took out his bloody fingers. ‘I can’t find it. I’ll use the scanner - would you mind?’ he said, indicating the scanner above Durrani’s chest and his bloody hand that he could not use to take a hold of it.
Gann was eager to be of help in this kind of surgical situation and he moved the scanner down Durrani’s body, watching the monitor until the black object appeared. Mani took a pair of forceps from its bag and slipped the end into the cut while looking at the monitor. He opened the forceps and soon had the ends placed either side of the object. He carefully closed the ends around the item. He withdrew the forceps, the small device in its little bag sliding out of the bloody hole.
Mani placed it in the bowl and, with Gann literally breathing down his neck, he wiped the bag clean of blood.
‘Take it outta the bag. Let’s have a look at it.’
Mani took a pair of scissors from the tray and snipped one end of the bag. The small memory card fell out of the bag onto a piece of gauze and both men stared at it.
‘What do you make of it?’ Mani asked.
‘No idea,’ Gann said.
Mani used the scissors to turn it on its side. He took a magnifying glass off the counter and examined the object more closely. ‘Whatever it is, it’s very sophisticated. ’ He held it with the forceps and used the scalpel to gently pick at what looked like a join. The gap widened slightly and he applied a little more pressure. The piece slid fully open to reveal a finely patterned gold strip similar to that on the face of a SIM card. ‘It looks like some kind of memory chip.’
Gann took the magnifying glass and had a look for himself. ‘Yeah. Like you get in digital cameras,’ he muttered. Tumblers started moving inside his head. ‘That’s why that Charon guy was talking to him. And that’s why he pulled his shirt up. He was looking for this. He ain’t workin’ for our side otherwise he wouldn’t need to be sneakin’ around as a prisoner. Charon’s a friggin’ spy.’
Mani wasn’t entirely sure what Gann was going on about and didn’t particularly care. He took a small zip-lock bag from a drawer, placed the card inside it, sealed it and removed his gloves. ‘I’m taking this to Mandrick,’ he said.
‘Fine,’ Gann said, uninterested in the device. ‘And I think I’ll have that little meetin’ with Charon that I was plannin’.’
Mani placed a piece of gauze over Durrani’s wound as Gann walked purposefully out of the room. The doctor left shortly after and closed the door behind him.
Durrani’s eyelids flickered and slowly opened.
