Michael was sleeping again when everyone returned from Parnaas in late afternoon. Sophie left him in the infirmary and went back to work.
Anjali had cautiously optimistic news. In the week since they’d discovered that P. aeruginosa had caused the pneumonia plaguing the camp, they’d loaded up all patients in the Parnaas infirmary with the appropriate antibiotics. Many were on their way to recovery.
“We’ve lost six patients to it since we started the new drugs,” Anjali said, “and their situations were complicated by other health factors.” Sophie saw the unhappy set of her friend’s mouth when she said it. Losing patients was part of a doctor’s life, but that didn’t mean this particular physician had to like it.
Intimate contacts with the existing cases had been rounded up and started on antibiotics. They’d combined the medication distribution with a widespread vaccination program. “Typhoid, hepatitis, anything else that might be a risk in a camp this size. The guards don’t know we’re administering conventional vaccines; they think we’re curing the pneumonia with the shots. By the way, I’m burning through antibiotics, gloves, syringes, and hypodermics.”
“We have a lot of that stockpiled, so take what you need. I…” Sophie grinned, catching her own mistake. “The Rev can get you more within forty-eight hours. Anything else happening?”
“Yeah, four more cases of dysentery.” Anjali’s face wrinkled with annoyance. She had an intense personal dislike of diarrheal diseases in her ward.
“Tough,” Sophie said with a grin. “I’ll order more bedpans.”
“Your lack of sympathy is noted.” Anjali made a face. Sophie turned to the Rev for an account of his interactions with the Commandant.
Commandant Jaros had been intrigued by the team’s efforts to stop the pneumonia. He had asked many questions about Michael’s condition and Sophie’s wellbeing.
“I think he misses you,” said the Rev uncomfortably. “But here’s the kicker. He wants either Sergei or Sevastian to report to him tomorrow, then return with us in the evening. Double-checking our stories, no doubt.”
An uneasy silence filled the room. The guards couldn’t have overlooked the fact that Sophie slept with the so-called guinea pig patient. Commandant Jaros would no doubt find that interesting in the extreme.
“I’ll take care of it,” she finally said.
“You’re not going to do anything rash, are you?” The Rev looked worried.
“Hardly. I’m going to make them an offer they can’t refuse. Just let me make a phone call first.”
-
The person at the other end of the line picked up almost immediately. “It’s me,” she said. This person didn’t need to be reminded about the risks of cell phone lines.
“Understood. We received your message. Thank you, dear. Those words are so inadequate, but thank you. Have you seen improvement in…?”
“Yes.” She sensed the relief at the other end of the line. “You two can talk in a minute. First, I need a big favor, and you’re the only person connected enough to pull it off. I’m going to send you an email in a few minutes. Can you read it and give me a fast answer, yes or no?” Sophie had a military-grade encryption program on her laptop; if the Soviets were monitoring their email traffic (and she had to assume they were), the encryption level alone on this correspondence would catch their eye. She just had to trust it would hold – or at least hold long enough to carry out her plan.
“Absolutely. I’ll be waiting for it.” They exchanged a few more pleasantries while she walked to the infirmary. She peeked in and saw Michael awake in bed, looking grumpy and bored. He brightened when he saw her.
“Hang on.” Sophie extended the phone to him. “Don’t use any names, and speak English.”