The Commandant considered her words, then chuckled. “Sophie, I know you too well. You will not give up. You’ll work to the last man, to the last hour to find a cure. I have faith in your abilities.” His eyes shone with malice.
She slumped a bit, as if acknowledging his superior insight. “This is true. You do know me well, Commandant.” He beamed at her compliment. “But going the conventional route will take longer. More time. More will die.” Sophie made her voice low, persuasive.
Jaros stepped into the trap.
“That doesn’t matter to me. More deaths among the prisoners do not trouble me.” She could hear the false ring under his joviality.
“But they do.” Jaros’ eyes hardened, but never left hers. Sophie’s voice slipped down to a whisper. “This new one is the first of the young men to become ill. Men in their twenties with their lives ahead of them. Good, strong, young men. Those are the ones you wish to keep, yes? How many will be left by the time I find a cure through conventional means?
“Consider our motivations, my friend. If you give this one patient to me, I’ll find a vaccine quickly. More refugees will live. You will keep your workforce, keep those most valuable to you.” She pressed forward. “The Soviet Republic – and you – will get credit for brilliant leadership in a crisis.”
His eyes narrowed, and she could see his mind working. “What is your motivation, Sophie?”
“More refugees live. My coalition will be a success. I take credit for the vaccine in America. I advance. I will become unstoppable.” She felt goose bumps creeping across her flesh. All of this could be true were she a different sort of person.
Jaros leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. When he spoke, it was a low, gravelly sound. “He must be returned, dead or alive. And you will take two soldiers with you, not one.”
Michael, Michael, Michael.
“You are a visionary, Commandant.” Sophie reached for the walkie, but stopped when Jaros stretched his hand out.
“I will speak with them.”
Reluctantly, she handed him the radio. Jaros clicked the override function and put the radio to his lips.
“Dr. Shah, this is Commandant Jaros.” He spoke in English for the first time since Sophie had met him; his pronunciation was surprisingly good. A long hiss of static filled the silence between them.
“Hello, Commandant.” Anjali’s voice rang out in the quiet room. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I understand you have a new patient in your infirmary. A young man.”
“Yes, sir. He came in about an hour ago. We are beginning treatment now.”
“I am granting you permission to remove this patient, and this patient only, from Parnaas for the purposes of medical treatment at your camp.”
“Why, yes,” Anjali said with just the right amount of surprise in her voice. “I’ll make arrangements for the patient to be transported immediately.”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said. But he didn’t put down the walkie. Sophie felt unease creeping through her again. “Dr. Shah?”
“Yes, Commandant?”
“Please bring the patient to the administrative building. I’m sending two guards to accompany him. There is another matter that requires my attention before he is permitted to leave the perimeter.”
“Of course, sir.”
Jaros clicked off the radio and handed it to Sophie. He spoke privately to his guards, who left the building. They sat in silence as the long minutes ticked by. The Jeep roared up outside, and her heart pounded. Something else was coming.
The Commandant stood up and moved around to the front of his desk. The guards returned with Will, the Rev, and Jim. She noted Anjali’s absence, and her heart leaped against her ribs. Had she been deliberately left outside? Please let me be right about this.
“Sophie.” Jaros’ voice sounded like the swish of a snake’s scales on the rocks. “The prisoner has been given a job of great responsibility. You know what that means, don’t you?” She looked up at him. As she had expected, he held the knife.
“If you brand him, he’ll die.” She was unable to prevent her voice from trembling. “He won’t survive the trauma.”
Jaros smiled. “Then someone must stand in for him. One of your colleagues, perhaps.” Jaros gestured at Will, the Rev, and Jim standing behind them. Sophie could hear their collective intake of breath. “Perhaps one of these fine gentlemen you admire so much. I have noted your particular attachment to each of them, especially that one.” He pointed at Will.
Nothing would give him more pleasure than marking an American aid worker as a possession of the Soviet Republic.
“You will choose now.” His soft voice became menacing, and Sophie turned to look at the men behind her. She saw each of them straighten a bit, their expressions firming up. Preparing to be branded in place of a man they didn’t even know. That wouldn’t happen, not while she was still taking air.