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"I started to research the litera­ture you suggested. I've only just begun but I must say, it looks like a pretty touchy case..."

I decided to downplay the issue—to get him focused before we enter the OR.

"A touchy case in a long series of touchy cases, Pay. Nobody gives a shit. I doubt whether Mantzur will even be present and if he will, no one will dare to open his mouth. Anyway, I hope that Winestone will let you present the case; you know that he asked us not to disclose Mantzur's fuck-ups. But we have to. Don't you worry; I'll be there to support you. And anyway; first it's Moshesh's turn. Come next Tues­day and he'll have to present that other fatality of Mant­zur's—the carotid, remember?"

With raised hands Radezki turned around, pushing open the OR door with his shoulder. His eyes laughed above the mask. He got the point. Good!

"Entertaining piece of work, eh?"

I shrugged and raised my eyebrows. Entertaining? Radezki took refuge in sarcasm. Every surgeon does. It's a stupid defense mechanism, but it helps one to function prop­erly. I rinsed my arms and hands as well and followed him into the room. There we let the scrub nurse gown us up. Radezki was eager; I could sense it. I knew he wanted to give it his best. Not everybody in this hospital did. Some of my colleagues provided more "entertainment" than good surgery.

Five minutes later I watched Radezki make the first cut. His hand was steady as the scalpel slid across the belly. Framed by the dark-green cloth, the flesh separated, exposing a solid layer of yellow fat. That close to the surface it always takes a while for things to get messy after the smaller blood vessels realize they've been severed.