Jarred from a sound sleep by my phone ringing, I rolled over and squinted at my bedside clock. 3:26 AM. "Who the bloody fuck is calling me at..." I grumbled, snatching my phone. I contemplated just turning it off, but answered it anyway.
"What?" I snarled answering the call.
"Jeff, it's Alan, Alan Dockert." A voice said.
It took me a few seconds to place the name. Alan Dockert, actually Dr. Alan Dockert, Chief of Staff at the most prestigious hospital in New York City. A hospital that I had been trying, to no avail, to get privileges at for a good many years.
"What exactly can I do for you at this ungodly hour?" I groaned.
"I need your skills." He answered quickly. "High profile case."
"What about Feneman?" I asked.
"Out of the country at the moment." He said. "Besides, they asked for you, by name."
"They what, what's the situation?" I inquired.
"That's the thing." He answered. "I don't know. All I do know is they need the best facial surgeon, and that's you. Look, I know this sounds...strange, but it came through channels, it's legit. They're offering big money Jeff, half a mil, but you have to leave now and no questions."
I swallowed hard and gasped. "500 grand, shit who am I working on?"
"There is a limo parked in front of your place." He elaborated. "They will answer what they can, in route, or do I call them and say you declined?"
"Tell them I'll be down in 5 minutes." I said, dressing quickly and heading for the door.
I found the car, as described, at the curb, a rather serious looking man standing by the open rear door.
"You Dr. Conrad?"
"I am." I answered. "And you are?"
"Someone you've never seen, or will see again." He said, cryptically. "Please, get in. I'll explain what I can."
I entered the limo, sliding into the plush leather seat, my new companion taking the space beside me.
"Your patient's info is in this folder." He said, handing me the papers. "The top document is an NDA. I need you to sign it before we can continue."
"Just who the Hell are you people?" I asked, signing the NDA. "This whole thing feels like a bad spy movie."
"For right now, just familiarize yourself with your patient." He insisted. "We can talk later."
I spent the rest of the trip reading the contents of the packet, but was still shocked when I saw her for the first time. There was mention of facial trauma, but this was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Left cheek, shattered. Orbital fractures around both eyes. Broken nose. Several teeth missing and to top it all off, her jaw was broken in two places. The info I was given said accident, but that was bullshit. They included a picture of her before the injuries, for reference. It was probably 7-8 years old and didn't show her straight on. Probably the best they could do on short notice. She was very attractive, at least she was before someone had beaten her to a very literal pulp.
"Dr. Conrad." The man from the car said. "Everything you need should be in the surgical suite as we speak. If this is not the case, ask and we will provide anything you need. All we ask is that you do everything you can to..." The man broke down briefly. "Just do what you can."
After scrubbing in, I met with the surgical team quickly. There were two nurses, the anesthesiologist and a neurologist, who just finished his examination and assured me she had no brain damage. "The attack was tailored to maximize damage to her face while minimizing neural trauma. The sick bastard wanted her conscious and wanted her to survive so she could live everyday with that disfigured face. I'm familiar with some of your work, if anybody can help her, you can."
"Who the fuck does something like that?" I hissed.
The reconstruction took much longer than I thought, but with the help of the two very capable nurses and the very best equipment I'd ever worked with, I was done. I removed my surgical garb and crashed in a chair in the locker room. Shortly afterwards, limo guy came in.
"Dr. Conrad." He spoke softly. "I hope all went well."
"I've done all I can at this point." I exhaled, shaking my head. "We won't know for sure until she heals some. If any further work is needed, it probably won't be very serious."
"I see." He pondered, seemingly annoyed.
"Look." I spat, leaning forward in my chair. "I'm sorry if you're not completely satisfied, but that poor girl is lucky she still has a face. It won't be the same one she was born with, but she sure as Hell won't have to hide in the basement. Honestly, only a professional, or someone looking very closely will be able to tell anything happened."
"I apologize if I seem less than grateful." Limo man said. "This has been a very trying time for us."
After several, somewhat more heartfelt, apologies, I was informed the funds that were agreed upon had already been transferred to my bank account. If asked, I was never here, I didn't know the woman or him and I was to forget this whole ordeal happened. If, in the future, my services were needed, I would be contacted. I really didn't need the lecture, I still had absolutely no idea who any of these people were.
With time, that strange night faded from memory, the only reminder, the hefty infusion to my bank account. I tried to talk to Dr. Dockert about it once, but he refused to answer any questions. He reminded me of the NDA. He had one as well. The one thing he did tell me was that people like 'these' didn't like questions. I wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but further discussion was pointless.
Over a year later, I was sitting in a coffee shop, nursing a latte. The place was busy with only a few seats open, one of which was at my table. A woman approached, looking for somewhere to sit. I nodded toward the empty seat and smiled. She sat.
"Thank you so much." She beamed. "I don't think I've ever seen this place so full."
"Yeah." I agreed. "Hard to relax when it's this noisy, but I can't live without their coffee."
We sat in silence for a while, enjoying our drinks. The barista dropped a cup, the shattered pieces skittering across the floor. My table mate, and more than a few other patrons of the coffeeshop, turned their heads toward the noise, then I saw it, a small, almost invisible scar, near the hairline by her left ear. Looking closer, I saw several other scars. They would fade to almost nothing in another few months, and to be honest I knew where to look, so finding them wasn't difficult. She caught me staring, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat.
"Sorry." I sputtered.
Tears formed in her eyes. "You saw my... I'm so ugly." She sobbed.
"That's no way to talk about my best work." I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "If you are who I think you are, we've met before. You don't remember of course. I'm Dr. Jeff Conrad."
She sat puzzled, touching one of her scars and pondering what I said. "Father didn't tell me your name."
"They didn't tell me yours either." I grinned. "Guess we're even. Before this gets any more awkward, I had to sign an NDA that night. Am I even allowed to talk to you?"
"The NDA just said you couldn't talk about me, talking TO me is completely different." She laughed. "I'm sure father never thought we'd run into each other. I know who you are now, I want to thank you for what you did. Under the circumstances, I'm happy. I'm getting used to the 'new' me, but It's been a struggle. I'm Antonia, by the way, Antonia Salerni."
Shit.shit.SHIT.SHIT!!! my mind screamed. Antonia Salerni, only child and beloved daughter of Giordano Salerni the Mob boss. I.AM.A.DEAD.MAN.
Antonia saw me blanch and start to sweat. She smiled. "Don't worry, father is very grateful. Anyone that comes in contact with me or the family has to sign one. He scared off my first boyfriend, of course that was sixth grade. He's a bit paranoid, but harmless."
"B-but, he's..." I sputtered.
"Unless you work for a rival family, he won't even know you exist." She grinned, seemingly enjoying my terror.
I relaxed... a little. "I don't, but if I may ask, given your father's notoriety, how is it you aren't surrounded by bodyguards?"
"Oh, but I am." She giggled. "There are at least three within sight range, probable one or two more patrolling the neighborhood. I wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't air support. Since the 'incident' I'm not allowed to be unsupervised. They keep their distance, but they're around."
I wasn't sure where she got the inner strength to refer to nearly being beaten to death an 'incident'. She's either very strong or completely in denial.
"Hey." She reached out and touched my arm. "Where did you go? I'm sitting here talking, and you're somewhere else."
"I'm just, well, you seem to be..." I was fighting for words.
"I'm dealing with it." She said quietly. "The first few months were Hell, to be honest. I looked terrible and feared I'd be that way for the rest of my life, but as I healed and the bruises and swelling faded. I started to see me again. A slightly different version, but I could see enough of the old me, that I learned to accept it."
"Well I only had one rather bad picture of what the 'old' you looked like, but the 'new' you is quite attractive, if I do say so myself." I complimented.
"Ah." She giggled. "I see your nefarious plan now. Find a poor hapless maiden, rebuild her in your own mental image, then 'accidentally' run into her hoping to prey on her shaken self image."
"You wound me." I pouted playfully.
We bantered back and forth for over an hour. She was delightful. Smart, funny, quite the prankster and beautiful of course, making her recovery from her injuries all the more incredible.
"I really should go before father sends in the troops." She smiled. "I had a nice time. I'd like to see you again, maybe dinner at the estate? I'm sure father would like to thank you personally."
"I-I'd like that." I sputtered. "As long as you're sure it's OK?"
She walked around the table and planted a light kiss on my cheek. "Give me your number. I'll contact you when father and I are free. Nice to meet you Dr. Jeff."
