“Ja.” Halstead slowly rose to shake hands with Doctor Jacques Joseph.
“Welcome to Berlin.” Joseph was already examining Halstead’s bandages with a professional’s interest. “Come back and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
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“I must say, Herr Kirchner, that, while I’m certainly willing to accommodate you as best I can, I’m a bit mystified by your choice of face.” Joseph held up to the late morning light streaming in from the window the black-and-white photograph Halstead had provided to him. “How do I say this?” He looked across his desk at Halstead while still holding the photo aloft. “You’re a very handsome man, and you want to become a man who is certainly not.”
Halstead’s stare was as cold as the light in the office. “We agreed to no questions, Herr Doktor. Just let it suffice that I was severely burned when one side of my face was pressed against an extremely hot surface, and that I would like to make a few changes to that face while we’re at it.”
“Curious: what sort of hot surface was that? The gun you came in contact with must have been extremely hot and large. In fact—”
“Do not worry about the details of how I came to be here. I was planning on visiting you anyway. Just know that I want the procedure done as quickly as possible.”
Joseph grew grim and set the photo on the desk. “Well, yes, speed will not be a problem. But, with all due respect, Herr Kirchner, I am a man very pressed for time. The war may be over, but there are many, many soldiers who need my help. That burn has already healed naturally, and I’m not certain of the ethics of taking on your case at this time.”
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