Lights glowed through most of the windows. Jean-Paul had told Gerard he lived in a tiny house, right next to the clinic. The two got out of the car. Stretching, they studied the surroundings. “Let’s go inside,” Gerard urged, taking Linda’s arm. They climbed the few steps leading to a massive wooden door, which opened easily when Gerard pushed it. Inside, a well-illuminated corridor ended in a spiral stairway. On each side of the corridor were a few doors. On the second door along the right wall, a small sign announced in black letters: Dr. Jean-Paul Battiste. From inside came the sound of masculine voices talking something in Romanian. Gerard knocked before opening the door. He stepped back to let Linda enter first. Two men sat on each side of a desk, in the room stuffy with rings of cigarette-smoke. Although he hadn’t seen him in many years, Gerard recognized Jean-Paul immediately.
