Misha had just spent too many hours in the hospital, too many more hours in the medical library, and was now altogether weary to the bone.  It was frustrating that with all the advances of science, still the cures for those most common illnesses, injuries...and inherited infirmities were still...just out of reach.  He turned as if by habit to the tiny cafe, to get something to awaken him enough to get home safely.  It was getting late, and Paris was sometimes not the safest place.  He sat down, and heard a familiar voice - Silvain Trudeau, a surgeon from the hospital.  "Misha !  You are looking tired.  I hope you are heading home now."  He sipped his latte and offered up a gentle smile.

The counterman served Misha with coffee with a sour silence that the doctor had learned to expect now, and completely ignored Silvain.  This did not daunt Silvain in the slightest, in fact, few things did.  He had a sunny attitude, which was applied with equal measure to his work with his patients, his quest to learn better surgical technique, and his life.  "It is a good thing I have found you here anyway,"  Silvain said.  "There is something I read about, that may be what you are looking for. It sounds strange but hear me out, if you will.  It seems that a doctor in Bolivia wrote an abstract detailing some folk medicines...and he has made some claims that these witch doctors are able to cure grievous problems...even a cancer of the bone.  I am thinking, that what can cure the bone can cure the marrow that makes the blood, Misha, and that you may have a chance to find what you seek.  I left the papers on my desk to show you, I was hoping to see you at the hospital."

Misha was adding yet more sugar to his cafe au lait as Dr. Trudeau discussed the new research being done in Boliva.  Misha smiled at Silvain's enthusiasm even at this hour... if only Misha could borrow some of that energy he might be able to stay awake long enough to make it back to his apartment.  Still as Silvain began to speak about Misha's personal "great white whale" in the form of a possible cure to blood disorders, Dr. Grigorevich perked up quickly.

Misha turned towards his friendly colleague and said in an interested tone with a touch of fatigue, "That is facinating news Silvain and I do greatly appreciate your efforts on my behalf regarding this issue.  I would be very interested in looking over those papers.  However considering the long shift I just finished, I very much doubt my mental faculties are up to any serious analysis.  I'm just barely keeping my eyes open as it is... walking home is going to be fun.  I just hope the caffine will be enough to let me get home safely.

Still... this word does sound intriguing and you know what a personal interest I have in anything related to blood disorders.  What is the name of this doctor from Boliva who authored the abstract?  Have you ever heard of him before, what field is he reported to be in?  I tell you what, give me a few hours to go home, get some sleep and regain my wits.  Let's say that in about 5 hours or so we meet up again at the hospital in your office?  That way my brain will actually be able to make sense of the material and we can discuss the implications in a logical and rational fashion.  Would that work for you?"

Can it be... has a "miracle cure" really been found out in the wilds of South America?  Hmm... I had best not get my hopes up, this wouldn't be the first time some provincial doctor tried to claim a bit of clout with a wild claim of cure-alls.  Still... it is clear that conventional medicine on the Continent is not making much progress towards the cures I seek... perhaps it is time to broaden my horizons?

Misha peppered his friend with questions, and received Silvain's ready smile.  "You can look at it tomorrow then, when you are ready, Misha.  The doctor is Manuel Corazon-Olivera in Bolivia, and he seemed serious indeed.  Get some rest.  Farewell, my friend."

The tired doctor did manage to make it safely home, though it was perhaps because his feet knew the way better than his head.  Despite the interesting topic, he still found the prospect of sleep to be more so.  Seven hours later, when the sun had snuck through his half-drawn curtains to awaken him, Misha awoke, and headed back to hospital.

He met with some frowns up on the surgical floor, where Silvain shared a tiny office with three other surgeons.  One nurse was openly crying, and the conversation was hushed and sombre.  "Doctor Grigorevich,"  the head surgical nurse, a steady man named Denis, came up to him, his expression sad. "I understand that you were good friends with Doctor Trudeau.  I am sorry to tell you...he was killed in an automobile accident last night, on his way home from hospital."

Which was about two hours -before- Misha had spoken to Silvain.

Misha was shocked, not the least because of the "odd time discrepency".  However Misha was Russian and his hard life since the Great War and the Revolution had prepared him for the depressing turns in life.  He had learned to suppress his feelings and let very little show, so the fact that he allowed himself a heavy sigh showed just how much the news had affected him.

Misha shook his head sadly and said in a solemn tone, "That is indeed tragic news... poor Silvain, this place will be just a touch darker without his bright energetic spirit.  I am truly sorry to hear this... but are they certain about the time?  Who was it that examined the body and set the time of death?

He was just talking to me the other day regarding a new discovery he had been reading about... something about a cure for bone disorders from a doctor down in Boliva.  We were supposed to take a look at the material together today.  Has the hospital staff packed his things away already?  Who was Silvain's... I mean Dr. Trudeau's next of kin?  I don't recall him talking about his family much."

Well this is certainly a nasty twist... talk about a turn for the worst.  But there must be a logical reason for the time difference... perhaps someone was in a rush or the accident caused overly severe damage to the body?  It just sounds as if someone made an error in pronouncing the "time of death"... it happens much more frequently than the medical profession would care to admit.

After all... it is rare that 2 hours give or take would make that much of a difference unless one were dealing with a murder investigation.  Ahh... poor Silvain... I shall miss him.  Yet again I lose another person from my life... what a cruel world this can be at times.

Misha received a gentle look from Denis.  "The car crashed by the Opera-house...near the clock.  They are sure of the time.  The hospital administrator is contacting his family now.  They are in Trois, I think.  No one's touched his office, but if you have some papers in there, I don't think anyone would mind."  It seemed that the conversation that Silvain and Misha had could not have logistically happened.

Silvain's desk was stacked with paperwork, but it was still neatly organized.  A scribble denoted a plain-looking folder - 'tell Misha' and inside was a mimeographed copy of a scientific paper on "Native Cures: Another Examination of Traditional Folk Medicine in the Amazon Basin."  by Dr. Manuel Corazon-Olivera of Bolivia.  A further notation on a scrap of paper was "call Harry Smith", tucked in the back of the folder.

Well that just simply doesn't make any sense... how can I have spoken with someone who was already dead!?  How odd... there just has to be a problem with the recorded time of death.  I mean... it isn't as if I was chatting with a ghost for pity's sake.  Although... now that I think back... it was odd that the snooty waiter completely ignored Silvain.

That isn't the waiter's usual style, I mean with me it is understandable since I am a "dirty, uncouth, barbarian emigre" from the backward motherland of Russia... or the damned "Soviet Union" as it is called now!  But Silvain is.. was.. French and certianly his French lacked the accent present in my own way of speaking.  How strange... on well never mind, I'm still certain there has to be a logical and rational reason behind all of this.

Since there was no one around to bother him and the folder did have his name on it, Misha simply took the folder and its contents to his own office within the hospital.  He began reading through the scientific paper thoroughly, analyzing the data and crosschecking it with his own research into such matters.  After he finished reading the journal article, Misha got the address of Silvain's parents' home and arranged for a small wreath with black roses to be sent to the address along with a card expressing his sincere condolances for their loss.

Later in the day, Misha went to the medical library to look up any other papers or articles which this Dr. Manuel Corazon-Olivera may have either been first author or a contributing author on.  He then went to find Denis and asked him in a curious tone, "Pardon me Denis, but have you ever heard Dr. Trudeau mention the name "Harry Smith" or has he had any callers recently to his office by that name... perhaps a patient?  I ask because I saw a reminder on his desk to call a "Harry Smith" and if the man is a patient, he may be in need of medical care or consultation and of course he should be informed that his primary physician is deceased."

Denis didn't know of anyone named Harry Smith, but suggested that Silvain's address-book might hold more answers.  That would of course be released to his family. Misha had no difficulty in ordering a wreath to be sent.

The paper seemed to detail, in medical terms, nigh-miraculous recoveries from bone cancer in three separate instances, that occurred in the Amazon Basin, both patients that had consulted with Dr. Corazon-Olivera, whose speciality was cancer of the bone and cartilage.  The first patient had gone in search of a cure after Corazon-Olivera had told him that the case was terminal.  The second and third had gone to the Amazon Basin after Corazon-Olivera suggested it.  The final paragraph detailed that the doctor was mounting an expedition to find the witch doctors himself and see if he could learn their secrets.  The paper was received for submission only 6 months ago.