“It's great to see you, Nick.”
Marjorie Letten leaned in with a kiss on the cheek and I liked her choice of perfume,
which smelled like strawberry.
Marjorie Letten was the head of the Eastern European Studies department at Drew
University in Madison, NJ. Marjorie and I dated in college during our sophomore year. After four
months of casual dating, she started talking about marriage which freaked me out enough to break
off the relationship. Marjorie went on to date a senior. They were married the following year.
Able to graduate in three years, she had two kids well before I finished medical school.
“You said on the phone that you needed a translation of some people speaking in what
you think was an Eastern European language.”
I put down a mini sculpture of some Greek goddess in Marjorie's office which was lined
with books on the right side when you walked in. Her desk was in the back left corner, with just
one small pile of paper on it and no sign of a computer. The floor-to-ceiling window was a nice
touch, as was the bear rug that rested by the door on the wood floor, but Marjorie's bright yellow
curtains stood out oddly against the dark wood panel.
“Right, these creepy guys were in our waiting room late last night, talking up a storm in
some language we all didn't know. Then they just left suddenly, but one of the nurses was able to
record their conversation on a medical recorder.”
“And they didn't say anything to your staff?”
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“Well, they kept telling my front desk clerk „one second' and they were there for maybe
three minutes. One of them kept looking out the window like they were hiding from something.”
It took me over an hour this morning to come up with this whopping lie. I was
increasingly aware that I had to learn to be a little more creative and create more quickly.
I played the part of the conversation where they were speaking. Marjorie leaned in for a
careful listen.
“Can you play it again?”
After a second time, Marjorie leaned back in the chair, then started to stroke her chin.
“Well, I believe that is the Czech language.”
Marjorie picked up the phone.
“Hey, Jane? Marjorie here. Do you have a second to swing by my office? Thanks a
bunch.”
Marjorie looked up at me while putting the phone down.
“Jane Kaplan knows Czech along with five or six other European languages.”
We small talked for thirty seconds, during which I learned that Jane's youngest was in
medical school, studying to be a Neurologist. That path was a long one though I held off on
telling Marjorie what I was sure she already knew.
There was a knock on the door and Jane Kaplan walked into the office.
“What's up, hon?” Jane asked.
Jane, holding a pile of papers, sported dirty blond hair a tad out of place - she looked like
a graduate student.
Marjorie pointed at me to start the tape.
“Can you grab a listen to this? I believe its Czech. This is Nick Johnson, by the way.”
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We shook hands quickly. Jane sat down and listened to the two men speak. She looked up
at me with a puzzled look on her face - this was not good news.
“The first guy says,
„Yeah, and maybe you can keep your index finger.'
To which the other guy says,
„If you keep talking, he won't be the only one dead in a few months.'
That is really horrible and disturbing, who is speaking and who are they going to kill?”
My stomach fell to the floor. It was now crystal clear that they were going to kill me no
matter what I did. I wanted so badly to scream out to Jane „it's me! Please, you gotta help me!',
but instead, I just shifted in my seat and looked over at Marjorie.
“These scary guys came into Nick's waiting room,” Marjorie informed Jane. “He's an
Internist…and they started speaking to each other for a while. His nurse was able to record part of
the conversation.”
I leaned forward in my chair, put my face into my hands, and didn't hear Jane's next
question.
“Oh…so you don't know who they were?”
Marjorie shook my right shoulder.
“You okay?” she asked.
I looked up at Jane.
“You're right, Jane. This is not good news for somebody,” I told her.
“But you don't know who these guys are?” Jane asked again.
“No, I don't,” I replied.
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“Well, I would say the police should hear this but if you don't know who they are…”
Jane stated.
“Yeah, if they come back to my office, I'm calling the police…that's for sure,” I replied.
I knew the police couldn't help me with my real problem, as opposed to the fictional one
I had created for Marjorie.
I got up to walk out of the office, stopping to give Marjorie a hug and shake Jane's hand.
“Thank you two, very much,” I told them.
“Give my best to Susan, Nick,” Marjorie asserted.
As I headed back to my car, my brain was in a fog, obviously feeling the effects from
only getting three hours of sleep last night. Though now more vividly frightened than I had been
since last night's encounter, the fear was unable to cut through the fog in my head.
I plunked down into the driver's seat and sat there for ten minutes with the door open.
“You gotta suck this up, Nick. Don't freak out. There is a way out of this, I just know it.”
On the drive back to the office, I realized that I had to talk to someone about this,
someone who wouldn't say anything to anybody, but might have some good advice. I was
starting to talk to myself out loud and this alone scared me mightily.
I had about three or four months to work something out. After this, the trial results would
likely be made public.
How did Dr. Linder react when he first learned of his fate? I didn't want to act like Dr.
Linder, because his actions got him and his wife killed.
Maybe I should have seen this coming because they showed me the video of the Linders
being tortured. Dr. Linder must at some point have told Oleg what he wanted to her, yet he killed
him anyway. Why would I expect things to be different for me?
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Wednesday, November 6th
11:20 am