"It's just lunch," I say. "I know he had an important meeting today. You don't want to disturb him."
"Oh, but we do," Matvey says, smiling regretfully. "Because if we take you on an unauthorized excursion, Dmitri will discipline us and it won't be pleasant."
"When you say discipline," I ask, "do you mean like a stern talking-to or he'll set your body on fire and throw you in the East River?"
He seems to consider the question seriously and settles on, "Somewhere in between."
"Oh myGod."I clutch my purse to my chest. "I'm not hungry any more."
Fortunately, Dmitri agrees, though I can see Rurik's implacable countenance pale at whatever Dmitri says next in rapid-fire Russian. Still, they put me in one of Dmitri's ominous bulletproofed SUVs and we head uptown.
The familiar scent of rosemary, garlic, and roasting meat greets me at Gordi's Sandwich Paradise, as well as Gordi.
"You're back!" he calls cheerfully, waving his cleaver at me.
"Hey, how are you?" I call awkwardly. "Please tell me you haven't run out of bacon."
"For you? There is always bacon." This is the most the man has ever spoken to me, and for the first time, I hear a tinge of a Russian accent.
"You're my hero, Gordi!" He waves that gigantic, gleaming cleaver again.
Priya comes rushing in a minute later, her scrubs wrinkled, and a splash of blood on her doctor's coat near the hem. I don't think it's a good time to share that information with her. For someone who cuts into humans for a living, Priya is remarkably squeamish about blood outside of the operating room. She told me once that she couldn't even eat steak rare. Her smile fades a bit as she looks behind me. Rurik is looming and I'm pretty sure casting a shadow over half the restaurant, Matvey stands with his arms folded, scanning the crowd around us.
"You brought friends to lunch?"
"These are my… they work with Dmitri," I finish lamely, because only a pretentious asshole has a security team. "Rurik and Matvey, meet my best friend Dr. Priya Singh."
"A pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," Matvey nods politely. Rurik rumbles something that might've been a greeting but sounds more like a bunch of boulders rolling down a stream.
Once we're tucked into a corner with our sandwiches and my bodyguards are making everyone around us acutely uncomfortable, Priya leans over. "Okay, tell me everything that has happened since we talked because your occasional mysterious texts are making me want to stab you with a scalpel."
I'm staring at my sandwich. There are maybe twenty pieces of bacon stacked on top of each other, the two slices of bread valiantly trying to hold them in place along with the slipperyslices of tomato. I look up and Gordi smiles broadly, nodding his head.
I pull out a slice of perfectly crispy bacon, chewing on it reverently. "Is Gordi single?" I ask, "Because I might marry him for his sandwiches."
"I know you're a bacon whore, but even for you that's just sad," Priya says, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "Stop stalling. What's going on?"
So I tell her about the wedding, glossing over the abduction part because telling your friend you got yanked out of a luxury hotel bathroom window and zip tied doesn't seem like a good conversation for a crowded sandwich shop. Also, not the place to tell her that I Did It with my host, though I'm desperate to get her thoughts on my rash decision. She tells me that Dr. Grant, our head cardiovascular surgeon, just got caught embezzling funds from hisowncharity.
"That tracks," I say. "Do you remember how he used to donate lavish sums when we were taking up collections for sick employees and then his bank would refuse the charge?Sucha prick."
"Agreed." Leaning closer, Priya murmurs, "I have two possible disappearances, I wanted you to share the info with Dmitri. Do you remember Markie? She works in the cafeteria."
"Yeah, I know her. She's always really sweet. She works the cash register, right?"
"Yep. Well, she didn't show up for work last week. Apparently, she sent an email to her supervisor telling him that she found a better gig. I overheard the supervisor talking to another of the cafeteria ladies, saying it didn't make sense because Markie wasso responsible, she'd never quit without notice. He says she's on her own, no family."
"Can you text me her last name?" I make a note on my phone. "Any contact information you can dig up? If not, don't worry. Dmitri's ability to pull up information seems to be unparalleled. Who's the other one?"
Priya sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. Her long, dark hair is coming loose from her tight bun, sending wisps of hair around her face, and making her look a bit fragile. "It's one of my patients, Nigella Lowe, she's twenty-three. I had to perform a hysterectomy because of uterine fibroids, and she was devastated. Said her husband was furious and talking about leaving her because they couldn't have kids."
"That prick!" I hiss. "As if that's the only way."
"I referred her to one of our staff shrinks who specializes in fertility issues," Priya says. "We've both been keeping track of Nigella and this week she didn't come for her follow-up appointment with me, and her shrink said she was a no-show for their appointment as well. We both called her and her phone number is disconnected. I tried to call her dickwad husband's number - he's her emergency contact - and that number is no longer in service." Her eyes water. "I'm going to report it to the police as well because the risk of domestic violence feels pretty high here."
Squeezing her hand, I wait for her to blow her nose. Priya's devotion to everyone around her is almost ferocious.
"Hey, whoareyou?Excuseme." It's a loud, entitled voice dripping with condescension. "Step aside, please."
