The Temple by Brian Smith

took them into the gentleman’s bedroom. When
they entered they saw a private nurse administer a large dose of
opiates to her patient.
    “Master Jeremiah!” Mr. Drummond
called out. “Thank God you’re here. I’ve been waiting for this
moment so much. The only thing that keeps me alive here is my nurse
and the stuff she gives me against the pain. It’s no life, I tell
you, it’s dreadful. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
    Jeremiah smiled. “Well, all
that’s over now. This is the beginning of a new life for you. Have
trust in the Lord and you will be provided for.”
    “And you’re quite sure they’ll
be able to help me?” Mr. Drummond said, still not feeling quite
convinced but desperately wanting to believe what he was told.
    “Of course, my dear fellow. I’m
taking you there personally,” Jeremiah said. “After all these years
we’ve known each other how can there be any doubt? I would never
even think of recommending it to you if I wasn’t absolutely sure
that it was the right thing. The level of care you’ll be getting
there will far outpass anything you can imagine. You won’t be
treated as someone who has a death sentence any more. You’ll be a
patient who will get all the help and care he deserves and you’ll
have the Lord on your side. What better physician could you wish
for?”
    Drummond looked at Jeremiah with
the desperate hope of a drowning man in his eyes. “Yes, Jeremiah.
You don’t mind if I call you Jeremiah, do you? I always knew I
could count on you when the time came.” He turned to the nurse.
“Get me the wheelchair. I’m leaving.”
    The nurse looked disapprovingly
at Jeremiah and Sycko but obeyed and pushed Mr. Drummond out of the
house to Jeremiah’s car.
     
    An hour later they arrived at
the Dryvellist Hospital which was situated in the country. The
environment was much more pleasant there than in town and, of
course, the cost of running a hospital was much lower than in town.
The building was white and shone brightly in the sunshine. There
were classic Greek columns on either side of the entrance that
betrayed the building’s origins in the 1930s.
    Sycko and Jeremiah helped Mr.
Drummond out of the car and into the wheelchair. Sycko pushed the
wheelchair while Jeremiah walked next to it and chatted with their
patient. They entered the large entrance hall that had been witness
to many a man’s last journey. The red and white marble floor was
worn in places and the walls were decorated with pictures and other
mementos of Dryvellism.
    They went to the reception where
they were met by the director of the hospital, Dr. Lee, an astute
business woman who had turned the hospital into a veritable
goldmine. A few years earlier she had been a simple piano teacher,
but that changed after she bought a medical degree and a doctorate
online. She was soon hired by Master Jeremiah to run the hospital
and even though her administrative style was capricious verging on
the unpredictable or even chaotic she applied the principles of
profit maximisation to the hospital with impressive results.
    Jeremiah beamed at her.
“Director Lee, what a pleasure to see you again. May I introduce my
old friend Mr. Drummond to you.”
    She smiled and shook hands. “A
pleasure to have you here with us, Mr. Drummond. Master Jeremiah
has already informed me of your condition and the poor help you’ve
received at the government hospital. I can assure you that things
will be very different here.”
    Drummond looked up from his
wheelchair and saw a middle aged woman with black hair and brown
eyes. There were few wrinkles in her face and her friendly smile
exuded a genuine kindness that made Drummond instinctively trust
her.
    “Thank you,” he said. “But first
I’d like to take a look around, if you don’t mind. Master Jeremiah
told me I could have a look before I decide and…”
    “Yes, of course, Mr. Drummond.
That’s what I’m here for. I’d be delighted to take you on a tour.
Please