Assem Akram - The '1492' Conspiracy

As we walked the two blocks to the hospital, I informed Ava about what had happened at my apartment. Besides giving me the “I told you so” look, she said that I did the right thing and that we would eventually be able to go and assess the damage after we were done with Necromonti.

The hospital was not one of those huge complexes that have become almost the norm now. It was an older brick building with ceramic accents on the outside. We took the elevator to the second floor and ventured straight to the intensive care unit area. The smell of disinfectant was expectedly strong but it didn’t really bother me: I expect a strong ether-type of smell in a hospital and I like it. In my mind, it equates to cleanliness – or the appearance of it. Likewise, I expect the nurses to be dressed in white and not those ugly pajama-like uniforms, with childish patterns such as Mickey Mouse or golf balls on them...

From a distance, in the contre-jour, I could distinguish the silhouette of a Police officer and I signaled it to Ava with a bit of distress. I feared that our visit was about to be cancelled or at least postponed for ‘technical reasons.’

“Don’t forget that in ‘Interpol,’ there is ‘Police,’ and I am a cop before anything else,” Ava said.