"Bloody awful, if you must know," I said; my voice a hoarse whisper.
"The doctor tells me you're on the mend."
"That's more than he's told me. Why can't I even look at my face?"
"You were quite a mess."
"Really? You surprise me. I thought I'd be in the best of conditions after the pleasant stay in that wonderful place."
"There's no need to be sarcastic."
"Pardon me if I disagree. For some reason, when I think back to being beaten to a pulp every day for the last God knows how long, I believe I've earned the right to be somewhat pissed off and sarcastic."
"Okay, I accept that, but there are reasons we've kept you under wraps. Should you suddenly appear alive and well, there would be some embarrassing questions."
I frowned, as the reality hit home. Robert Carlisle was dead. I mean, really dead. I no longer existed. The Foreign Office would have been given my death certificate; therefore, my National Insurance number would have been shut down, making me a non-person.
"Has the penny dropped at last?" she asked.
I nodded, unwilling to speak.
"Are you going to calm down and listen to me?"
I nodded again, trying to quieten my growing frustration. Maryanne sounded as if she actually cared, and to be honest, my life had been missing anyone who cared for me in the last few months.
"Right, once everything went wrong in the legation, Harvey set things in motion. Unfortunately, there was no way we could get to you during the pre-trial period, and once you were sent to prison, it was even more hopeless. We attempted to get your British consular officials to help, but it seems that your fate played into certain political hands in Whitehall, so no one was predisposed to assist you. You weren't the most popular chocolate in the box, Robert."
"There's a fucking surprise," I muttered.
"Harvey worked heaven and earth to arrange your little escape. He told me that no one gets left behind. Does that mean anything to you?"
I smiled, for the first time in ages.
"He's a marine. Marines don't leave anyone behind, if they can avoid it."
"He managed the impossible, as you're the first to escape by that means."
"Okay, I'm grateful. Where is he now?”
“I sent him back to Thailand to do something for me. You’ll meet him again, I promise.
“So what happens now?"
"Now, my dear Robert, now you learn to be someone else. Then, you go back and collect those diamonds."
"Give me one good reason why the hell I should?"
"I can give you several good reasons. One, you were paid to do a job, so now you finish it. Two, I've put two million pounds sterling into an account with your new name on it, which you will get on completion of the job, and three, I've invested too much to back out of this now."
"Explain."
"I made a promise to a friend, and not unlike the marines, when I give my word, I deliver."
"Okay, but why me? I could tell anyone where the diamonds are, so then you can go pick them up."
"I don't trust anyone. I want you to do it."
"Why? Harvey is trustworthy."
"It's your job. You have to finish it."
"What for?" I even sounded like a petulant child in my own ears.
She stared at me for a moment, as if weighing up whether to tell me the real reason.
"For you, Robert, so you can know you could and did," she said very quietly.
That shut me up for a few seconds.
"Okay, but why the mystery?" I asked.
"The doctor, Robert, he's really changed your appearance."
"So? I think I can like with a different face."
"Not just your face. He's changed quite a bit."
I was getting confused. What else was there?
“Like?”
She looked over to where the doctor was seated, nodding slightly. The man shrugged and stood up, coming over to us.
Maryanne continued. “You see, Robert, you were a real wreck, and there was no way you could go back to having your old face. Doctor Guya has managed a miracle, which you may not appreciate immediately,” Maryanne said, making eye contact with the doctor.
“All surgical procedures, apart from the facial reconstruction, are reversible, but only by surgery. Do you understand?" the man asked.
"Not at all, what are you talking about? Either of you!"
I caught Maryanne's look, which did not bode well. I mean, what could they do to me? I then had a really bad feeling. The only surgical procedures that came to mind were so drastic and so perverse that they not only made sense, but became the only logical answer. It was an answer that terrified my very soul.
"Don't tell me you've ...you've..."
"Robert, there's no easy way to say this, but you now look like a woman."
"You gave me a sex change?" I almost screamed, my voice going up several octaves.
"No, you’ve not had any part of you genitals removed, only tucked away and stitched out of sight. You now have what appear to be female genitalia, but that’s only cosmetic. You've been given hormone implants, like androgens, to prevent you from becoming physically aroused, but the rest are all silicone implants and surgery that can all be reversed."
I sat there - stunned. It was all too much, so I passed out again.
It was dark when I returned to the land of the conscious. The lights in my make-shift ward were dimmed. I lay there for a moment, trying to control my reeling thoughts. As every time I woke up recently, I mentally prepared myself for the pain. This time, the pain was mental. Once the enormity of what Maryanne had told me sank in, I was forced to re-evaluate my whole life.
Believe me, being on death row makes one very reflective, but this was different. Whilst in prison, it was simply a matter of looking back over my life and thinking how one could have made a difference by taking different decisions at crucial moments. In reality, I wouldn't have changed a thing, except perhaps taking this last abortive job in the first place. However, now I had to look forward and to do it with a whole new set of parameters.
With my right hand, as my left still had the IV drips attached, I explored my nether regions, but found only tight bandaging, even across my chest, which seemed to have some form of moulds or inverted baskets under the bandages. That would make sense, as any implants would need to be protected if I had thrashed about in my sleep.
Seeing that I was awake, the little nurse came over to my bed.
"You are all right now?" she asked.
"Not brilliant, but I'll do. Is boss-lady here?"
The girl giggled and left me alone for a moment. When she returned, Maryanne was with her.
"How are you?" she asked.
"How do you expect?
"You frightened me, passing out like that. I hadn't realised how weak you still are."
"I frightened you? Don't make me laugh. You just scared the pants off me, had I been wearing any, that is. Now I know why I've been so comprehensively bandaged and hurt in those odd places."
"The doctor tells me that you would still be covered in dressings, had you been a normal patient."
"Normal? You mean people actually go through this sort of shit on purpose?"
"For a tough old soldier, you really are very naïve. There are men who'd almost sell their souls for the procedure you've recently undergone."
"Then it's a very sad world."
"I can't disagree with you, Robert, but it's the only one we've got."
"Okay, so, now I'm awake, how about telling me what you've really done to me."
"Okay, are you sure?"
"I'm sure. I won't pass out again, I promise."
"Fine, then for a start we've had your face redesigned. Even your mother wouldn't recognise you."
"I'm not surprised; she's been dead for years."
"You know what I mean, stop being an ass. The doctor has shaved your Adam's apple and tightened your vocal chords, so to give you a more feminine look and to assist with your voice. Your old nose was a mess, Robert, so that has gone, replaced by a cute new one. General shaving of chin and cheekbones, plus subtle Botox injections gives you a complete new look."