Page 144 of Gone Before Goodbye

He grins and steeples his hands. “Let me ask you something, Doctor McCabe. Is life about quality or quantity? It’s a question you physicians ask every day, no? Do we measure life by the years—or the quality of those years? Aleksander grew up in poverty. Without me, he would have spent his life in drudgery, as a low-level factory worker, barely scraping by. Instead, Aleksander lived a life of luxury even kings couldn’t dare have imagined—big mansions, private planes, fancy cars, the finest cuisine, and of course, beautiful women. So you tell me. Was I a curse in his life—or a blessing?”

“I guess we would have to ask him.”

“None of us get to decide how we die, Doctor McCabe.” He separates his hands, points the palms toward the sky. “Why should Aleksander be any different?”

Maggie nods. “Fascinating albeit sociopathic rationale,” she says. “I assume you didn’t share your plan with Aleksander.”

“I did not, no.”

“But he figured it out. Too late. After the surgery was done, when he saw the work I’d done, he realized you were—how did you so poetically put it?—fattening him up for the kill. That’s why he ran.”

“Yes. I think he deluded himself into believing that Nadia had true feelings for him. So we had people watch the club, figuring he would show up.”

Oleg Ragoravich—the real one—tilts his head back, closes his eyes,

struggles to swallow. She can see he’s in pain. Maggie waits for him to continue.

“My main passion has always been in medical innovations because I have spent so much of my life in poor health. Health is everything—but we know that, don’t we? You can have all the riches in the world, but if you don’t have your health… Well, it’s an old saying, but that’s because it’s so true. I’ve always had a congenitally weak heart in the physical sense—but the heart of a lion when I want something. And I wanted to find a way to cure me—and in the process, help others like me to live longer.”

“Others like you,” Maggie says.

“Yes.”

“You mean the rich and powerful?”

“Don’t be naive. It’s always been that way. Medical research is held back by archaic rules. I don’t have time for any of that. Mankind doesn’t either. And you Americans especially have grown so lazy and stupid. You think you’d be healthier if you relied on your”—Ragoravich shakes his head as he says in pure disgust—“‘natural immunities.’ Please.Natural immunities. It makes me laugh.” His voice goes up an octave in mimicry: “‘Oh, we don’t need modern medicine, we just need to meditate and trust our “natural immunities” like in the old days!’ Bah. Do you know what the global life expectancy was in 1900? Thirty-seven years. Thirty-seven! That’s what your natural immunities got you.

Do you know what life expectancy is today? Seventy-three. Think aboutthat. And do you know why? Of course you do. You’re an intelligent physician. We live longer because of modern medicine—antibiotics,

vaccines, control of infectious disease, new treatments for cancer, stroke, and yes, cardiovascular disease. We live longer because westoppedrelying on our ‘natural immunities.’”

He is panting by the time he finishes the rant. He takes a second, starts breathing again, looks at her. “What do you think?”

“I think the other Oleg didn’t talk this much.”

That makes him chuckle. “Very good, Doctor McCabe. But you know I’m right. Science and medicine work. The rest… They call me corrupt, but these so-called ‘wellness influencers’ preying on your gullibility, buying in bulk, repackaging junk as a ‘health supplement,’ jacking up the price…” He waves his hand dismissively in the air. “But you didn’t come here to listen to a sick old man rant about humanity’s innate stupidity.”

“True, I did not,” she says.

“Tell me what you already know, Doctor McCabe, and I’ll tell you the rest.”

Maggie doesn’t hesitate—she dives right in. “Like a lot of your competitors, you laundered money through charities. But you did it with a dual purpose. You focused on charities that had connections to medical innovations, especially if they featured cardiology or cellular regenerative advancements. So-called ‘fountain of youth’ medicine. As you just explained, nothing with placebo supplements or scam therapies. Only charities involved in true medical innovations.”

“Yes.”

“It was common knowledge that WorldCures was doing major work on heart transplants via THUMPR7. You would have been all over that.”

“WorldCures was my number one priority.”

“So you donated to us and several other like-minded charities. You started the corruption with the money laundering. Then you movedon to black-market organ donation. And then, because you hated the—what do you call them, archaic rules?—some form of human experimentation. I assume that’s what’s going on down here?”

“Close,” Ragoravich says. “You know we bought a kidney from Nadia when she was Salima?”

“Yes.”

“And she thinks we sold it on the black market for transplantation.”

“You didn’t?”