from downtown.”
“Of course.” The doctor smiled at Viktor. “Down the hall, to the left.”
Watching him leave, she noticed the scar on his cheek and the tentacle of a tattoo creeping above his collar. Then she turned back to Ryazansky, who seemed to regard her with a degree of iciness. Who were these men? Usually she met with young couples, or a young woman, or young man.
“So tell me, again, Mr. Ryazansky,” she said as they sat, “what’s your interest in our clinic? I’m a little unclear about your situation.”
“Before I go into specifics, I’d like to know about your policies and procedures concerning your services.”
“Very well.”
Aprishko gave an overview of how the experts at the clinic treated patients for infertility, using state-of-the-art technology. How the clinic also offered surrogacy arrangements and full services concerning surrogate motherhood with a global network of legal services. The clinic also offered in vitro fertilization and sperm donation services.
“Above all, our most important policy is absolute confidentiality.”
“Thank you.” Gromov reached into his chest pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper for the doctor. It showed the colored copies of driver’s licenses of Fyodor Gromov and Yanna Petrova, along with neatly printed dates.
“My name is Pavel Gromov,” he said.
“I thought it was Ryazansky? I’m not sure I can help you under this—”
“Please, stay seated,” Gromov said. “Let me continue and it will all become evident. The man pictured here is my son...the woman is his girlfriend. You’ll see dates noted—they are the dates they visited this clinic to use his sperm to impregnate her. Unsuccessfully.”
Aprishko looked at the sheet.
“I believe, from my understanding of your procedures,” Gromov said, “that this clinic would have preserved and still possess my son’s sperm. My son is now deceased and I want his sperm to make further attempts at a grandchild.”
The doctor blinked several times. “Mr. Gromov, my condolences for your loss. It is a terrible thing to lose a child. But I’m afraid I cannot help you. First, as I said, patient confidentiality is absolute, so I cannot even confirm that these two people were patients. Second, it is stated in our contracts that, for clinical purposes, sperm becomes the property of the clinic but is not used other than for the purpose intended by the provider.”
Gromov’s face registered nothing. He said nothing. His eyes shifted from the doctor, who suddenly wondered why Gromov’s associate had taken so long. When she turned her head she saw Viktor standing behind her. He’d removed his jacket, revealing a shoulder holster and the grip of a gun. Aprishko’s jaw tightened when he passed her wallet to Gromov. She’d left it in her bag, in the drawer of her desk. This man had gone into her office and stolen it.
“What is he doing? What are you doing?”
Viktor stepped to the doctor and slapped her face once, as Gromov, indifferent to the assault, studied her wallet’s contents.
“This would be your home address?” Gromov held up Aprishko’s license and other cards.
Her heart racing, the doctor tasted blood in the corner of her mouth. Through her tear-filled eyes she saw stars.
“And this would be your daughter?” Gromov held up a photo of a girl about twelve years old beaming for the camera. “And this is your husband?” Gromov held up another photo of a smiling man.
He let several moments pass in silence.
“Listen carefully, Irina Aprishko. Before I came here, I learned where you live and where your family lives. I know from my sources that this clinic is involved in illegal activities. Is that not correct? Do not lie.”
The doctor looked at him, glanced at Viktor, tears rolling down her face. She nodded slowly.
“Good, now everyone here is being truthful. We will not hurt you, or your family, if you help me. Do you want to help me?”
Another nod.
“You are
“Of course.” The doctor smiled at Viktor. “Down the hall, to the left.”
Watching him leave, she noticed the scar on his cheek and the tentacle of a tattoo creeping above his collar. Then she turned back to Ryazansky, who seemed to regard her with a degree of iciness. Who were these men? Usually she met with young couples, or a young woman, or young man.
“So tell me, again, Mr. Ryazansky,” she said as they sat, “what’s your interest in our clinic? I’m a little unclear about your situation.”
“Before I go into specifics, I’d like to know about your policies and procedures concerning your services.”
“Very well.”
Aprishko gave an overview of how the experts at the clinic treated patients for infertility, using state-of-the-art technology. How the clinic also offered surrogacy arrangements and full services concerning surrogate motherhood with a global network of legal services. The clinic also offered in vitro fertilization and sperm donation services.
“Above all, our most important policy is absolute confidentiality.”
“Thank you.” Gromov reached into his chest pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper for the doctor. It showed the colored copies of driver’s licenses of Fyodor Gromov and Yanna Petrova, along with neatly printed dates.
“My name is Pavel Gromov,” he said.
“I thought it was Ryazansky? I’m not sure I can help you under this—”
“Please, stay seated,” Gromov said. “Let me continue and it will all become evident. The man pictured here is my son...the woman is his girlfriend. You’ll see dates noted—they are the dates they visited this clinic to use his sperm to impregnate her. Unsuccessfully.”
Aprishko looked at the sheet.
“I believe, from my understanding of your procedures,” Gromov said, “that this clinic would have preserved and still possess my son’s sperm. My son is now deceased and I want his sperm to make further attempts at a grandchild.”
The doctor blinked several times. “Mr. Gromov, my condolences for your loss. It is a terrible thing to lose a child. But I’m afraid I cannot help you. First, as I said, patient confidentiality is absolute, so I cannot even confirm that these two people were patients. Second, it is stated in our contracts that, for clinical purposes, sperm becomes the property of the clinic but is not used other than for the purpose intended by the provider.”
Gromov’s face registered nothing. He said nothing. His eyes shifted from the doctor, who suddenly wondered why Gromov’s associate had taken so long. When she turned her head she saw Viktor standing behind her. He’d removed his jacket, revealing a shoulder holster and the grip of a gun. Aprishko’s jaw tightened when he passed her wallet to Gromov. She’d left it in her bag, in the drawer of her desk. This man had gone into her office and stolen it.
“What is he doing? What are you doing?”
Viktor stepped to the doctor and slapped her face once, as Gromov, indifferent to the assault, studied her wallet’s contents.
“This would be your home address?” Gromov held up Aprishko’s license and other cards.
Her heart racing, the doctor tasted blood in the corner of her mouth. Through her tear-filled eyes she saw stars.
“And this would be your daughter?” Gromov held up a photo of a girl about twelve years old beaming for the camera. “And this is your husband?” Gromov held up another photo of a smiling man.
He let several moments pass in silence.
“Listen carefully, Irina Aprishko. Before I came here, I learned where you live and where your family lives. I know from my sources that this clinic is involved in illegal activities. Is that not correct? Do not lie.”
The doctor looked at him, glanced at Viktor, tears rolling down her face. She nodded slowly.
“Good, now everyone here is being truthful. We will not hurt you, or your family, if you help me. Do you want to help me?”
Another nod.
“You are
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