The driver is focused on the road. Once again I ask myself how I ended up in a foreign country in the company of unknown men.

What do I even know about the Belovs? Why so selflessly trusted? “Well, of course, don’t touch Demyan’s case, you wouldn’t go anywhere, give me at least a million dollars,” an inner voice prompts.

And I agree. Even at the thought of our possible meeting, my heart beats faster. But she's so far away. First you need to find out all the ins and outs of the mysterious clinic. Zhenya said that it was called "Renaissance". Very symbolic, I must say. Interestingly, there is no information about her on the Internet, I specially googled and found nothing.

So it's only for the elite. This is intriguing, but also inspires understandable fear.

I continue to study the medical record of Zlata Izmailova. An advanced form of Lyme disease caused by a simple tick bite. It's scary to imagine that randomness can have such a bad effect on the quality of life. The infection quickly covers the entire body and becomes chronic if qualified medical care is not provided in time.

Immunity suffers greatly, the infection spreads further with blood and lymph, causing allergic reactions, inflammation and affecting the joints, heart, and central nervous system.

Specifically, I was credited with rheumatoid arthritis, which leads to joint deformity, cartilage depletion, and later disability. Also, chronic fatigue syndrome from neuralgia, mild signs of dementia. M-yes. Is it for me to walk skewed and the beginning of dementia to portray? Okay, we'll figure it out on the spot.

“Belov writes that he is ready to receive us today,” Zhenya reports, reading the text from the smartphone.

I shudder, because I'm not ready to live a new life so quickly. But first, I am waiting for a test in a beauty salon. Creators of beauty take me hard. My biggest fear is that my hair will be cut off. But the hairdresser only cuts the cut ends and highlights a few strands, the eyebrow specialist shapes the eyebrows, the beautician performs his own procedures - peelings, shmilings, skillful makeup. Never figured it out. And I never dreamed that I would get into a beauty salon at all. It’s unusual to be in the place of a blonde doll, and I don’t want to get used to this. Even the view in the mirror does not please. It seems like I could be exposed every second.

Chapter 4. Faith. Getting to know the doctor

Having approached a three-story, unremarkable yellowish building, we don’t even see the name - the approach to the clinic is hindered by a wrought-iron fence encircling the building with sharp peaks and gates on the control panel. The appointed time is in ten minutes, so it is reasonable to assume that we are expected.

But when Zhenya presses the call button, only a booming echo is heard, as if the sound is going nowhere.

Calling back for about ten minutes to no avail, we begin to go around the building in a circle, along the fence. On the one hand, I feel relieved that the reception has been canceled for the time being. On the other hand, this is reminiscent of a situation when you prepare for a difficult exam for a long and tedious time, and the grade is set “automatically”. It seems that you rejoice, but the jitters and immense fatigue remain. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to tune into the right mood again, so I whisper to myself: “Let something happen and we won’t get inside.”

At the rear facade of the building we find a team of workers cleaning broken glass and installing new ones. Several windows on the first floor are broken, fragments are lying on the ground, which leads our whole trio into bewilderment.

Hey guys, what happened here? - Zhenya calls the workers, but when they come up, we can’t find out anything, since we don’t speak Polish at all, and it seems there are similar and understandable words, but in the end we only hear “pshe” and “prshe”.

“Professor Wierzbicki,” I say. – Where can I find it? Call? - I show with signs how I put the tube to my ear.

In response, the glaziers just shrug their shoulders. And this is understandable. How do they know who the head doctor is here. We look around in confusion, deciding what to do. And then we notice that a short, well-built man, completely bald and wearing round glasses, hastily approaches us. A typical doctor, he even wears a green coat.

“Please, pani,” he says obsequiously and smiles, revealing a row of even white teeth. Most likely inserted. For some reason I don't like his fake smile. “I am Professor Wierzbicki, Tomasz. Sorry for being late.

Continuing to apologize, he leads us through the service entrance to the empty premises of the clinic, telling us that just the night before, thieves entered the building, broke windows, and stole equipment. Staff had to be evacuated. And if we had arrived earlier, we would have found firemen, police and other services.

“Now everything is calm,” he reassures us in almost pure Russian, gallantly escorting us to his office along an empty corridor. I don't notice anything remarkable. The hospital is like a hospital. Sterile, slightly smells of medicines. The design is dominated by white-green-brown colors. There are even huge palm trees, like ours, constant companions of medical institutions. The professor's office is also not striking with something unusual. It is luxurious, tastefully furnished, but featureless.

Having seated me on a white leather sofa, the professor turns to Zhenya and Kostya:

Can we be alone with the patient?

When the guys leave, finding the request acceptable, Wierzbicki sits across from me in a white leather chair, but doesn't take any folders. His hands are empty and he folds them into a lock.

- Mrs. Zlata, I saw the scans of your card. I'm glad you contacted us.

“Me too,” I nod, trying not to break into a smile. Actually, it's not difficult, as the presence of this aging doctor keeps me on my toes. There is something cunning in him, an evaluating look runs all over the body, over the face, but not with a male predilection, but as if trying to find a flaw and destroy it. Wierzbicki's gaze is like a laser beam, and there is no way to trust such a person, but a doctor should be endearing. And this one looks like a cunning fox.

“I must say that I would like to see you earlier. You delayed your arrival. But, as your Russian proverb says: better late than never.

Does this sound ominous, or am I over-dramatizing?