A Minister in a Box by Aaron Ben-Shahar

A Minister in a Box by Aaron Ben-Shahar

Author:Aaron Ben-Shahar [Ben-Shahar, Aaron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-13T22:00:00+00:00


Chapter 15

One day Dima finished an ordinary routine surgery and left the operating room to wash his hands and take off his scrubs.

“You have a visitor. He’s been waiting for you for two hours now. I did tell him you were in the middle of an operation, but he preferred to wait for you,” the ward’s secretary told him as he was leaving.

Dima wasn’t accustomed to any visitors, least of all at the hospital. Puzzled, he went to the end of the corridor, where this tall, fair-haired man with strong features and piercing blue eyes was sitting. This man rose to greet him, shook Dima’s hand and said:

- I know you. You’re Dr. Dmitry Blog. My name is Assaf Shlomi, is there some quiet place where we can speak?

Dima’s surprise guest was the quintessential silent type. Strong with a firm handshake, but most of all, Dima was impressed by the fact that his visitor knew him, although they had never met. For a moment, it occurred to him that those former ‘comrades’ of his from Moscow may have finally caught up with him to have that ‘talk’ he had been dreading for so long. But something about this guy’s demeanor made Dima dismiss any possible connection between the visitor and those operatives. At his request, the secretary directed them to one of the doctors’ rooms, which happened to be vacant at that particular moment.

- How may I help you? How is it that you know me?

The guy looked directly into Dima’s eyes.

- It doesn’t matter where I know you from. I am here to help you.

- How could you help me? I don’t remember asking for anyone’s help.

- I have a proposal for you, a once in a lifetime offer: I am offering you one week’s work for which you shall receive one million dollars.

Dima was taken aback. His visitor continued, not even allowing him time to react, neither to smile about it nor to cry over it.

- I will be calling you tomorrow. If you wish to hear the rest of the proposal, let’s arrange to meet asap and finalize the details.

Since his arrival in Israel, Dima had been living in his tiny apartment rental near the hospital. The rent was low, as were his other living expenses. He saved most of what he earned each month for the days to come. Waiting for his wife and daughter, Dima had to contend with short phone calls every now and then, during which his wife Paulina would always tell him about her own work and how much she misses him. She would proceed to tell him that every night, when she’s overcome by longing, she takes out the Uzbek jewel, which she never wore, holds it in her hand, and warms it, swearing her Dima would be the first person to put in on her neck.

On Saturdays, Dima took to taking his raggedy fourth-hand car on short drives to the small rural suburbs not far from where he lived, looking wistfully at the whitewashed houses with red roofs amid flower beds and grassy patches.



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