“His fingers are fine, just his feet. He can manage without a few toes.”
Sophie reached out to touch his face, but Anjali caught her hand. “Not until we’ve had a chance to diagnose him. I can’t have you sick too.” She could feel the fevered heat radiating off him. His face had not been marred by Jaros’ knife.
“Can he hear me?”
“He might be able to.”
“It’s me, Mikael,” she whispered in Orlisian. “I’m here. I love you.”
Anjali looked at Will, and they began to back Sophie out of the area. She struggled at first, not willing to leave him. She couldn’t leave him. His presence held her like a magnet. But Will and Anjali moved her back to the door.
“We’re going to begin treating him,” said Anjali. “The cultures will be ready tonight, and then we’ll be able to treat him and everyone else with this pneumonia more effectively. The thing that will help him most now is getting him out of this camp.” She took Sophie’s shoulders, looking her in the eye. “You’re the only person with enough influence to convince Jaros to let him go. Can you do it?”
“Yes.”
She hugged Anjali, then Will. She turned and walked out of the infirmary.
She once again interrupted her Soviet soldiers in the middle of a smoke. Someone should tell these guys that smoking is hazardous to their health. She kept her head down for fear they would see the emotion on her face.
She had about ten minutes to assemble her thoughts in order to play the most important game of her life. Sophie drove back to the administrative building at a reasonable pace, focusing on her breathing. She pushed everything else to the far corner of her mind, drawing on her extraordinary ability to focus.
I can do this.
Forcing a neutral expression, Sophie pushed open the door of Jaros’ office. He looked up at her with his usual smile.
“Back so soon, my dear? What news on our latest patient in the infirmary?” Of course he would ask. She understood why now.
“It’s not good. The pneumonia has moved faster than I had anticipated. I must reconsider my options.” Jaros locked his eyes on her as he waited for Sophie to divulge more. She sat down in the chair in front of him, a speculative look crossing her face.
“You have a plan, don’t you?” She nodded. “Tell me your plan.”
Sophie pursed her lips as if contemplating how much to reveal to him. She stood up and paced the length of his office, drawing out the moment.
“I fear you’ll disapprove, Commandant.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “Tell me.”
Once again, she paused as if weighing the options. Then she took her seat again, gazing at him. “The pneumonia has spread. Now it is among the young men.” She sighed and shook her head. “We have tried everything – everything! Conventional medications will not defeat this new enemy. It must be viral, rather than bacterial.” She looked at him slyly. “I would like to try something unconventional.” His eyes sparkled as she stood to lean closer, lowering her voice.
“I want to test an experimental vaccine on this new patient. He’s young and strong, not like the old ones before him. If I’m successful, we can inoculate everyone in the camp and eliminate the disease.”
Jaros’ grin stretched across his face. “Medical experimentation on prisoners is against the Geneva Convention,” he whispered triumphantly.
“Yes, it is.” She let a ghost of a smile linger around her lips. Let him believe that he had just witnessed the corruption of a young idealist. They stared at each other in the silent office. His profile hadn’t indicated a background in the life sciences. If he knew much of medicine or biology, she was lost. They didn’t need a live patient to create a vaccine, and creating one in the field with the resources available was nearly impossible.
“It’s a good plan, my dear. Why would you think I might disapprove?”
“Because I must remove the patient from Parnaas to conduct the test. Everything that occurs here will be documented by Dr. Shah and her team. I can’t conduct an illegal experiment under the noses of my colleagues. No, I must take him with me, back to our camp.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the border. “It is there I will find a cure for this disease.”
“Absolutely not. Prisoners do not leave Parnaas alive.”
“Send a guard with us then. He’ll be returned, one way or another.” She spoke casually, her innards writhing. Michael, Michael, Michael.
“Insufficient.”
She took a few steps back and sank down in her chair, still holding his gaze.
“Then he’ll die. Others will die. Your workforce will die, and you will have failed the Soviet Republic.”