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.”
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.