Chapitre 71: Chapter 71: The Mafia? Really?

VIKTOR

Vasily releases the tourniquet from my upper arm and slips the needle from my vein, placing a cotton ball over the tiny hole. He hands me a plastic cup and nods his head toward the bathroom where Oleg awaits to watch me piss for the millionth time.

"Tebe nravitsya moy chlen?" Which means, "Do you like my dick?"

"It is same as last time I saw it," he says, humorless.

"Pissing in cup is same as last time. Same as always," I say. "Clean piss. No drugs."

He lifts his shoulders. "Not my problem."

"Why must we do this?" I know the answer. I always know the answer, but it is fucking stupid. Vlad does not trust the American officials to be honest about my results. He thinks they have something against Russians and will accuse me of using performance-enhancing drugs even if I have not. He wants to send these samples back home so that we have independent, Russian confirmation that I am clean. Just in case.