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Halstead reached into a pocket and removed a pair of precious stones, a diamond and an emerald, which he placed on the desk between them. “Consider that a down payment, which I’m sure you’ll find useful in buying much-needed supplies for your war heroes.”
Joseph stared at the jewels for a long moment. Then, his conflicts resolved, he sighed and removed them from the desk. He rose from his chair, and motioned to Halstead to do the same and approach him. Then he stared hard through his glasses at the face from which he had already removed the bandages and that he now took between both hands. “You must, of course, realize that I cannot guarantee a perfect match to your ‘ideal.’ But,” he allowed himself a small smile of pride, “if anyone can make the transformation, it is I, Herr Kirchner.”
“And that’s why I’m here, Herr Doktor,” Halstead replied while staring straight ahead. “I only ask for your best effort.”
“And that you shall have, I assure you. The underlying facial features are somewhat similar, high cheekbones, jutting chin, et cetera. Yes, we can begin this afternoon. I have a wounded artillery officer coming in, exploded gun casing or some such thing. I’ll take some measurements now, and we’ll have you in the operating room this afternoon.”
“‘We,’ Herr Doktor?”
“Well, yes, I’ll need my assistant to handle the anesthetic—”
Halstead cleared his throat. “The fewer people who know about this, the better.”
Joseph stared at his patient in perplexity. “I need an assistant. I can’t—”
“At least perform the surgery here. The less people who see us, the better.”
Joseph looked about his office thoughtfully, then shrugged his shoulders. “For your price, that can be done.”
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