Smuggling Blood

by Mike Gomes

  Giving a wide and strong smile, the doctor tied off her arm and held her hand in his, opening and closing her fist while gently rubbing his index finger on the back of her hand. "This is just to build up the vein," he explained, trying to hold his eyes on hers.

  "It looks like one's popping up now," said Gabriella, trying to sound flirtatious, but also to trying to thwart the advances of the man.

  "You're right, there it is," said the doctor, pulling out the line that he was ready to insert into her arm, and grabbing the bag that the blood would go into, placing it on the floor already attached to the removal line. Gently sliding in the thin and small needle, Patel hit the vein exactly right, causing minimal pain and letting Gabriella’s blood flow down and start to fill the bag.

  "Very good, doctor, I hardly felt a thing."

  "Well, I can assure you, it's not always like that with me," he said, trying to sound seductive, but instead only repulsing her, causing her to hide her feelings even more.

  "Now, you stay here for probably ten to fifteen minutes and the bag will fill. You're going to feel tired and run-down because you're giving an entire liter of blood. After a day or two, you'll be back to yourself, your body will produce more blood and make you feel better. But that's not an invitation just to go running around for whatever you want. The body needs time to heal, and that's part of your job. I would say, if you really like giving blood like this, do it maybe once a week or once every two weeks. We will pay you a fee of $10 because of who you are and the high quality of your health. I know it's not a lot to a woman like you, but I do feel like people should be compensated for doing a good deed."

  "Doctor, I know you can't make any guarantees or say what's going to happen with anybody, but if I can, I'd love to request that my blood goes to one of those families you help, one of the ones they said you shouldn't be helping. It would make me feel really good if I was helping someone like that."

  "I can assure you of that, my darling," said the doctor, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek before he left the room.

  Twelve

  As the day drew to a close, Dr. Patel sat in his office, letting his mind drift to the woman that had come in before. Beautiful eyes, beautiful legs, and a beautiful body were all the things that attracted him over and over again. His taste for women was a weakness, and he knew it. Women would come in and out of his life while he and his wife played the game of pretending like nothing was wrong, despite the fact that he stayed out 'til late hours of the night and many times would not return home. The neighborhood and all its people knew exactly what was going on around the doctor's clinic, and he had never shied away from bringing these women around where he lived. The system was set within the Patel home, and a patriarchal rule of tradition is what stood. As long as he provided a comfortable life for his family and children, what he did outside the family was his and his alone.

  "Tell the receptionist I want her in here right now," said Patel, barking at one of the employees who walked by his door. "And I mean now, not later on, not in five minutes. I want her in here now, and press that upon her."

  "Yes, sir, Dr. Patel," said the young man still in his training to become a phlebotomist within the national system.

  Looking on the desk, Dr. Patel went through the charts, looking for the woman who he had seen earlier in the day, wanting an address or a phone number in order to make contact with her. He became frustrated seeing nothing.

  "Dr. Patel, you asked for me?" said the receptionist with a far cheerier voice than she held for the patients that came in the door. "How can I help you, sir?"

  "The woman that came in this morning, the one that gave blood," he said, dropping his files on the table in front of him. "Do we have a file for her? I don't see anything."

  "Doctor, there should be a file. I gave her the paperwork to fill out after she saw you," said the receptionist, beginning to look flustered and squeezing one hand within the other.

  "Do you feel that I'm blind?" said Patel with frustration in this voice at having the woman stammer trying to give an answer. "I said, do you think I'm blind!"

  "No, sir," she said, becoming more flustered with each passing second. "I-I know you're not blind, no, sir."

  "Then why would you ask me if I had the file? Don't you see, I don't have the file, I was looking at the files, and I don't have the file?" said the doctor. "And I don't mind you calling me sir, but what you should be calling me is Dr. Patel. I didn't spend half my life getting educated to have the dregs of society like you calling me sir and not doctor. I have earned that."

  "I'm sorry, sir... I mean, Dr. Patel. I'm-I'm just sorry." Tears started to roll from her eyes and she stared down at the floor. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Patel. I didn't mean anything. I was just trying to be respectful."

  "You just have an answer for everything, don't you? You don't seem like you can let anybody else have the last word. You have to make another comment on why it's not your fault," said the doctor, still frustrated and folding his arms in front of him. "We've had these problems before with you, not so bad that I've needed to bring you in here, but I hear it from the others."

  "I'm sorry," said the woman, her voice breaking with each tear and each sob that came out of her.

  "I don't care if you're sorry, and stop blubbering. I'm not a therapist, I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm an internal medicine doctor. That's what I do here, so I'm not here to solve your problems because you’re crying. You need to shape up and find me that damn file."

  "Y-Yes, doctor, I'll do it right away," she said, standing still, unwilling to move from her place.

  "There's no file out there, is there?" Dr. Patel asked, looking at the woman. "Don't be afraid to answer. I'm sure you gave her the paperwork. Now, do you remember her giving it back to you?"

  "I don't, sir, but I'm very upset right now, so I'm not sure."

  "There we go again, making an excuse for yourself." Patel motioned with this hand for her to come forward. "Come here, young lady. Please sit down. You know, it's not normal that I let staff sit down in here, so this is quite an honor. So please, sit down and stop crying."

  The receptionist moved into the seat, keeping her legs tight together in her skirt and her hands placed on her lap. Averting her gaze from the man that held all the power, she sat sheepishly, no longer filled with the condescending attitude she held toward the patients.

  "Did you see that woman leave today?" he asked, giving a more relaxed and gentle tone. "We don't need to worry anymore. My reprimand of you was done. Now, I just want to find out where our file went, or if we even got one. We need to have those records so that the government will know that we're not doing anything too shady."

  "Dr. Patel, I gave the woman the papers, and my lunch break came up before she finished filling them out, so I wasn't here when she returned them," said the receptionist, still unwilling to bring her eyes up.

  "Did anybody else collect a file from her?"

  "No, sir, they didn't."

  "And how do you know that? How do you know that she didn't give it to somebody else here?" asked Dr. Patel, placing his hands out in front of him, like he was searching for an answer with the woman.

  "I checked around, sir. I asked everybody if they got it from her, and nobody said she brought it back up." The receptionist now worried that not only her job but her reputation could be shed, tarnished by the doctor, as he demanded more from her than he did others.

  "Are you sure that's what happened?" he asked, letting his tone draw out longer, accentuating his words. "Are you sure that maybe jealousy didn't play a part?"

  "No, Dr. Patel. I wouldn't do that. I know what my job is here, and I don't let it mix with my personal life."

  "Oh, come on, now, dear. Are you telling me the fact that this woman comes in, looking as beautiful as she did, and you knowing that she is going to turn my head and grab my affections didn't bother you?" asked Dr. Patel, leaning forward in his chair. "Are you telling me it wouldn't frustrate you that she takes your po
sition at my side?"

  "Sir, you and I haven't been together for over a year. I understand that there's other women in your life," said the receptionist.

  "What do you mean, we haven't been together for a year?" asked Patel.

  "We haven't gone anywhere, done anything in a year. I assumed the relationship was over. I thought that you got tired of me and moved on to somebody else."

  "Relationships don't end until I say they do," said Patel. "You see, I make those decisions, not you. And maybe we haven't gone out for a year, but it doesn't mean that you don't belong to me still. It doesn't mean that I don't feel the same way about you that I did before. It's just a man like me needs to make sure he isn't tied to just one woman. But it seems like my affections are not returned by you."

  "I'm sorry, doctor. I felt that our time together had ended."

  "And that's why you don't have the file," said the doctor. "Do you think that I'm gonna stand for this kind of insubordination, where you're not doing your job because you're jealous of other women?" said the doctor, pointing his finger into the air in frustration.

  "Doctor, I would never do anything like that. I'm here to work with you. I thought that when she came in next time that I would get her information then. I felt that she probably thought she could bring the paperwork home and bring it back at another time. She didn't seem like the person that just wanted to run out of here and not leave any information."

  "You thought. You thought. That's the problem, that you thought this and you thought that, and instead of using your head for something besides paranoid dreams where I'm getting with other women, you screw up your job," Patel snapped. "Do you know what this can do to me? You know about the trial. You knew what I went through."

  "Yes, doctor, we were together during that time. I wanted to help you all that I could," said the receptionist, lifting her eyes to him, looking to see some gentleness, but only found hardness coming from him.

  "You lost the record on purpose. You were afraid that I would be with this woman, so you eliminated her. We have no phone number, we have no address, and we have no name. How do you expect me to explain that liter of blood to the authorities if there's a spot check today?"

  "Wouldn't we just do like we always do with the blood we don't report... "

  "Shut your mouth," growled Dr. Patel, causing the woman to pull back slightly. "Don't you ever speak of the dealings that go on within this office to me. There is nothing illegal that's going on. All of us know that."

  "I didn't mean to offend you, doctor. I was just talking about some of the kids that need the blood and they don't wanna go through the banks... " she started, but was interrupted again with a fierceness that caused a quiver in her spine.

  "I said shut up." Patel stood up from his seat and walked around his desk. "There is nothing illegal going on here. It doesn't seem like you're able to understand that. Do I need to help you understand that?

  "No, doctor, sir, Dr Patel," she said, quickly feeling the right hand of Patel coming down and slapping her hard on the side of the face.

  "I said to call me Dr. Patel." He raised his hand again, smacking it hard down on the woman's cheek, knocking her from the chair and onto the floor. "I took you from nothing, I took you from squalor, and I gave you a life. And this is how you repay me?"

  "I'm sorry!" said the woman on the ground, trying to compose herself while pulling herself across the floor, afraid to stand but moving toward the door.

  "Get on your feet," said Patel, reaching down and grabbing her by the shirt, lifting her up and then pressing her hard against the door. "You are now terminated from your service with us here at the practice."

  "I'm so sorry!" she said, as she sobbed in front of the man who controlled her financial future and her position in the community.

  "I don't care if you're sorry," he spoke through gritted teeth, leaning into her and pressing his hand hard around her neck. "Do you know I could kill you right now?"

  "Please, no," her begging combined with her tears, creating a painful sound that had no effect on the doctor's ears.

  "I'm a man that's loved in the city. I'm a man that’s respected. And to kill some piece of swine like you would not slow people down one bit. The police would look the other way. Everyone would look the other way, because they know the value of me is so much higher than the value of you."

  "Doctor, please, please let me go." She pulled, trying to get away from the ever-tightening fist around her shirt. "I'll never bother you again, I swear to God, I will never bother you again, doctor."

  "Shut up." He slapped her again, hard, knocking her to the floor. "You and I have too much past for me to just kill you. I also just can't throw you to the streets because I know you have family that needs money. It's my compassion that always kills me. But what I can do is let you be a donor."

  "A donor?" she said from the floor, grabbing her face.

  "Yes, a donor. You can't tell me that your family doesn't need the money. If you were able to give blood, say, two times a week, that would be a handsome little bit of money to keep them going."

  "I don't want to be a donor," she said, with desperation in her eyes and looking at the handle of the door, wondering if she could make her escape. "I just want to go."

  "You don't need to go, or at least you don't need to go home. You need to go donate some blood." Patel was again getting frustrated with her words and her denial of his offer. "I think once you get into the system, you'll enjoy it. A lot better than being a receptionist."

  "No, please, don't send me down there with them."

  "I don't understand you." He shook his head as he walked over to his desk and pressed a button on the phone.

  "Yes, Dr. Patel?" came the voice through the speaker.

  "Yes, darling, could you please have my security sent up here to my office? It's not an emergency, but I do need them up here right away." Patel ended the call and looked to her again.

  "You see, young lady, you're ungrateful. You're ungrateful for what I offer you, you were ungrateful for your job as a receptionist, and now you're ungrateful about this. So now I need to take charge, and to help your family because you are not willing to help them." Patel folded his arms as he leaned back on his desk. "Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you cause yourself so much trouble?"

  Sitting on the floor, the woman shifted and placed her back against the wall, ready to try to defend herself if the doctor attempted to hit her again. "I just want to go home."

  The door to the office swung open slowly as two large men who had normally spent a bulk of their time working in the blood farm came through the door.

  "Gentlemen. This young lady has decided that she wants to donate some blood to us... " Dr Patel explained, being cut off mid-sentence.

  "No!" yelled the woman on the floor, knowing what was to start with her soon. "I don't want to go down there, no!"

  "As you can see, she's a bit of a hothead and is unable to control herself," Patel shook his head side to side. "I think it would be best if you bring her down to the main room, not the one with the cages. If you could then maybe give her a shot of something to relax her, perhaps the heroine," Patel ordered the guards, seeing an affirmative nod from the men getting their instructions.

  "Dr. Patel, how often would you like us to administer that medication?" asked the large man with a Russian accent.

  "I think it would be good if we could give her that medication every four hours, for the next three days." Patel looked over at the girl on the ground, who now had terror reeking through her eyes, knowing what the future held for her. "I think her getting it at that frequency will set the hook nice and deeply for us. I also want her placed on every other day removal of a liter of blood for at least the next two weeks."

  The large men nodded their heads in unison, moving over and grabbing the girl by the arms. The screams of terror from her and the kicks trying to fight her way free had no effect on the two men, as they dragged her down the hallway with no reacti
on from any of the other staff.

  "Let's all get back to work!" yelled Dr. Patel from the doorway of his office, making sure that everybody knew he was in charge and no questions were to be asked.

  Thirteen

  Gabriella parked the old car on the outskirts of New Delhi. It was the perfect place. Low traffic and tucked away, nothing more than a vacant lot with old broken down cars that her vehicle could easily be mistaken for. No interference from police or other locals, as the place had already been ridded of the tires and anything of value on the other cars, it'd simply become an empty space that no one cared for and no building would ever be set on.

  Pulling her phone out from her pocket, Gabriella quickly extended the antenna, linking into the satellite system. As the screen came alive on the phone, she knew the pattern to access the secure network that would allow no others to know what she was doing or where she was calling from. To track her down would take a level of expertise had by few in the world, and even with them, it would take hours on end to decipher the many twists and turns within the encryption that was designed to keep her secret safe from anybody on the outside.

  "Let's see if there's any new news," Gabriella mused out loud to herself as she opened the file that contained Patel's information. Letting her eyes move through the different files, she saw nothing new. No updates had been made, no known whereabouts, and no connections to anybody he may have had new relationships with. "This is odd, Tyler usually updates these."

  Gabriella shifted her eyes out the window of the car, watching an elderly man pass by the lot as his feet shuffled along, not lifting more than an inch or two off the ground. Letting out a long sigh, Gabriella felt a kinship with the man in his exhaustion from life and everything that had happened to him.

  "Oh, what the hell," Gabriella said as she typed in the numbers to the man that she knew she needed to speak to, to get any information on what might be changing.