Fire in a Haystack: A Thrilling Novel
Page 7
Morris Dahan’s face appeared grim. Ofer immediately realized the early morning hours were not exactly Morris’ favorite time of day. Therefore, he did not speak with him so as not to upset him.
Immediately after the count, breakfast was served in the cells. Now Ofer understood where Ijou had gotten the blue plastic plate. As someone who always ate his meals hastily and on his feet and didn’t know much about the culinary arts, he considered himself a man whose stomach could digest just about any food. Even so, the smell of hard-boiled eggs that infiltrated his nose chased away any trace of appetite he might have had.
“When do you think they’ll let me make a call?” he asked Morris.
“Control yourself, they’ll come get you shortly and let you make one phone call. That’s the procedure,” he said reluctantly and shoved a plastic calling card in Ofer’s hand.
Ofer nodded thankfully. Morris had the face of someone whose gifts were not to be refused.
At last, Morris smiled contentedly. He took out a thin pen refill from a hidden stitch in his shirt. “If you were going to stay a bit longer, I could have taught you how to open handcuffs with this.” He winked and then tore off a piece of a newspaper that lay on one of the beds. “Here,” he said and shoved the improvised note with his telephone number into Ofer’s hand. “Keep this in case you get into trouble, your eminence. Give me your phone number as well. I’ll let you know later on today if your advice was worth something or if you should wipe Ijou’s plate with it.”
Ofer recited his number without any argument.
Then the door of the cell opened and the prison guard standing at the entrance asked, “Who’s Ofer Angel?”
Ofer raised a hesitant hand. Hope and dread were mixed inside him. The guard instructed him to follow. He bid Morris farewell and shook his hand, careful not to have his fingers undergo another snapping.
“No presumption of dangerousness you say, eh?” said Morris, a moment before they parted.
“Yes, exactly. I’ll be crossing my fingers for you,” Ofer volunteered and took his leave. Ofer didn’t say anything to Ijou. He didn’t have any plans of ever meeting that guy again.
The release process was quick. The guard signed a few forms, brought the small cloth sack and emptied it in front of him. Then he deposited the intern’s personal effects in his hands and instructed Ofer to follow him, taking care to maintain his distance.
Yoav Tzuri attempted to hide his sour face among the flow of patients and doctors rushing around the hospital like diligent ants. He did not really enjoy the morning hours of his shift at the Tel Hashomer Hospital. He preferred his other job, the research position he’d been assigned toward the end of his academic reserve studies in the department of pathology. It gave him much greater satisfaction, especially because of the challenge of solving medical riddles and mysteries.
But right now, he did not have any other choice but to finish his hospital shift. He disliked listening to the troubles of his patients. He did not possess much human compassion and empathy. He was happy that he had selected research at an early stage of his university studies, a field in which his analytical skills could manifest themselves alongside his medical knowledge.
Professor Henrik Zissou, his boss at the Abu Kabir Forensic Institute, detested human beings. Or more exactly, detested live human beings as he made his living from dissecting dead ones. Yoav did not think he would reach that level of misanthropy. After all, his brief life did not contain any extraordinary events. Professor Zissou’s biography was entirely different, of course. After operating on so many corpses, the professor possessed a very firm opinion about the depth of human evil.
This morning, Yoav was especially worried. He shrugged into his green gown, placed the surgical hat he hated so much on his head and tied the protective mask on his face to protect himself from germs. He was about to enter the isolation wing of the hospital where patients with dangerous and contagious diseases were admitted. He had no intention of endangering his young life or the plans he had for the dental student he had met two days ago in a bar, who answered to the name Sivan.
Even though he was enclosed in the rear cage of the minivan that the prison service used to transfer prisoners, Ofer easily identified the route it was taking. The direction the minivan was headed in surprised him. He was convinced he was being taken to court, just as Alush had told him on the previous day, so that the judge on duty would extend his arrest, and he had already planned what he would say and how he would convince the judge, with a practical and highly impressive speech, that he was the victim of a police error or oversight.
I’ll try not to insult them, Ofer thought, but I’ll prove to them that they’re nothing but a bunch of clowns. It’ll be nice to see the look on their faces when the judge frees me from this nightmare.
The vehicle stopped at the entrance of the Tel Hashomer emergency room. Ofer was confused. “Why here?” he mumbled with surprise. He tried to turn the cogwheels of his mind at a quicker pace. Perhaps they brought me here to undergo a psychiatric evaluation? What exactly are they trying to frame me with?
The prison service guard handed him off to a nurse who waited for his arrival at the hospital’s entrance. He was urgently admitted into an enclosed section behind the emergency room. The glass entrance doors were locked and a security guard stood next to them. A team of two nurses and a doctor took charge of him. All the medical personnel were wearing protective masks on their faces.
He was asked for his name. Other than that, no one exchanged even a single word with him. He found himself in a secluded room and was ordered to lie in bed, take off his clothes and don blue pajamas.
“I feel fine. What happened? Why am I in confinement?” asked Ofer, but he did not receive any reply.
“I have to call the office and report to them that Rodety’s dead,” he whispered in the ear of one of the nurses. Only her eyes could be seen above the mask that hid her face, and her enlarged pupils suggested she had serious doubts regarding his sanity.
“I don’t care who’s dead. You’re not getting out of this room without permission. You pose a threat to public health,” said the nurse dryly, ignoring his request. After a quick and rough search with hands covered by two layers of surgical latex gloves, she found the vein in his right arm, quickly and effectively filled up four large test tubes with blood and exited the room.
Ofer lay in bed without moving. The door was closed, perhaps even locked. He tried to organize his thoughts. What the hell is happening here? Yesterday I was arrested; today I’m hospitalized. What’s next?
The next moment, the door opened. Into the room walked a man wrapped in a doctor’s greenish gown, clad with a protective mask as well and wearing a surgical hat.
Ofer didn’t need to read the name on the name tag pinned to the man’s chest. All it took was a quick look at the phosphorous frame of his glasses and the pale eyes in which a perpetual spark of curiosity always glinted in order to recognize his visitor.
“Yoav, what are you doing here? You piece of…”
Yoav Tzuri placed his finger on his mask where it covered his lips and instructed him to be silent. “Good to see you, Mr. Angel. How was prison?” he asked after he took down his finger.
“How do you know about it?” asked Ofer with astonishment. “How can the rumor already be spreading? Even in my office they don’t know where I am. You have no idea what I’ve been through…”
“Actually, I do. You’d be surprised. I know a lot of things. I mainly know that you’ve spent some time with Jacob Rodety, who now rests in heaven.”
“Where did you hear about Rodety?” asked Ofer and then remembered that Yoav Tzuri worked at the Abu Kabir Forensic Institute. “So that’s it… you’ve autopsied his body?” he interrogated him with curiosity.
“Yes, we’ve done his postmortem and that’s why you’re here. I hope that you’re not going to follow in his footsteps.”
“What are you talking about?” Ofer was startled.
“So talk already. Why are you abusing the corpse?”
“Apparently, his body was overrun with an unfamiliar virus, a type of mutation that doctors are unfamiliar with. The disease he was carrying was supposed to have been eradicated from the world—”
“What does it have to do with me? And why am I here?” Ofer asked quickly, terrified.
“You probably didn’t notice, but you are not the only one. The isolation ward is full of people such as yourself. Everyone who is suspected of having been in contact with your Mr. Rodety.”
“So, I’m not alone here?”
“Of course not. On the other side of the wall you’ve got a pretty decent sized delegation of employees from the hotel Rodety was in… and they are trying to locate additional people who spent time with him in other places… the moment the danger was discovered, the Ministry of Health instructed all the people who were in contact with him to be placed in confinement.”
“He was in contact with many other people. With the bartender at Ezra’s, with a few more… girls at the Paradise.”
“A few more girls… how do you know?”
“It’s not important how I know. Knockouts. I wish they were here. But I guess they don’t know about all the places he hung out in. Actually, the police do know. They’ll probably get them here… So what’s going to happen to me?”
“We want to make sure you’re not infected and are not a menace to the public’s health. Although, as someone who knows you, I can definitely say you’re a menace to the public.” Ofer knew that the future doctor was smiling a sinister smile behind his mask.
“Cut it out, Yoav. So what are the results? Am I going to die? And what terrible discovery did you make in Rodety’s autopsy?”
“What we found in him killed him. His body contained an enormous amount of a new virus. We’ve also found some traces of the virus in his personal flask. That was what made him a public menace.”
“What personal flask? A small silvery bottle with whiskey? I drank from it as well.”
“Then chances are that you are on your way to following him and departing from our wonderful and enchanting world.”
“Are you kidding me? What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m not kidding at all. Did you drink the liquid in the flask that killed Rodety?”
“Yes. He said it was 18-year-old single malt Glenfiddich Scotch whiskey. A great pleasure in a small bottle…”
“The question is how much of it did you drink? The fact that you’re alive tells us that apparently it was not enough. But chances are that you’re not clean. Even if just a small dosage of the virus entered your body, it could be that after a few days of incubation the disease will break out. Big time. In a week’s time we’ll know for sure. In other words, you’ll know for sure. Did they take blood samples?”
“Yes, they did. I filled up a couple of test tubes. What is this disease? Come on, Yoav, stop being such a son of a bitch and explain what’s going on here.”
“An unknown mutation. A crazy ass virus. A type of smallpox. Did you know that this disease killed more than twenty-five million people in fourteenth century Europe?”
“No. And I don’t want to know. What does any of this have to do with me?” Ofer’s voice rose until it reached such high registers that he became hoarse. He began to scratch himself involuntarily.
“That’s the thing. This illness had passed from the world. We’d managed to eradicate it. One of medicine’s greatest victories. Just one more proof of the fact that we doctors are absolutely necessary while you lawyers are nothing but useless parasites. But let’s get back to the point. We were all certain that no trace of this disease remained in the world until Mr. Rodety came to visit the Holy Land, and when we examined his body, we were shocked to discover he was carrying a mutation.”
“What… mutation? What’s so bad about that? The man had a mutation. This city’s full of walking mutations. Maybe someone killed him and it wasn’t the virus that did the job. That’s what the police investigator thinks.”
“Tell me, did your brain get dried up from memorizing too many court verdicts? That’s exactly what killed him. And it’s the most horrific scenario the health care system and the security forces have: An accidental tourist or a disguised terrorist arrives in Israel and infects tens of thousands of people with a new, human-engineered mutation of the virus that has already taken more human lives than any other plague in history. Whether it is an accidental event or an act of biological terrorism, it poses a strategic threat to the state of Israel. Have you heard of avian or swine influenza? SARS? These are all playthings compared to this horrible disease. What’s so hard to understand?” Yoav began to lecture with a serious tone.
Ofer grew silent. The bastard knew how to give a proper explanation. “So what does this virus do?” he asked, following a brief pause.
“This viral infection still has no name. It’s a close relative of variola major. It’s a type of virus that can do whatever it wants to a man’s immune system. Juggling its way through the body without anybody being able to grab it by the throat. The original strain could pass only through human saliva and infect a person through something he had drunk or eaten.”
“So, if I blow some air on you it’ll be harmless, but if I throw up on you then you’ll be in terrible danger?”
“Nice. I applaud your wonderful analytical capabilities. I’m not kidding. We’ve gathered information from all over the world throughout the night. What makes this mutation unique is the fact that it infects the digestive system rather than the respiratory system. But we are still looking into the subject. Only time will tell. In any event, if the virus enters the body in a small amount, it incubates in the body quietly for about a week and then breaks out in full force. High fever, tiredness, vomiting, body aches, rash, terrible sores, black spots, multiple organ dysfunction, fibrillation… and the final dance. Should I go on?” Yoav Tzuri performed some dance movements.
“Cut it out, Yoav, you’re killing me with this description. What are my chances of surviving? This is sick. This is unreal. I need to pass my bar exam. I haven’t achieved anything in life yet, I haven’t really lived yet at all… what a bummer.”
Yoav Tzuri was not impressed. “Ofer, you’ll end up in our care. In the professional hands of the Abu Kabir Forensic Institute. Nothing will give me more pleasure than taking care of your body. And don’t worry, I’ll put every organ back in its place. Who knows, maybe you’ll even end up looking better,” said Yoav.
“So what’s the cure? What should I do?” asked Ofer, real anxiety sneaking into his voice.
“Sadly, nothing. You can only wait. There’s no known vaccine for this virus and no cure. We can’t know how your immune system will react. It’s a good sign that you don’t show any symptoms yet, but it also doesn’t say anything about what can still happen down the road. If you had drunk as much as Rodety, you’d be dead by now. Be optimistic. Maintaining some hope and a good mood are your current best medicine.”
Yoav finished his speech and explanations. He held Ofer’s hand for a brief moment, then, as abruptly as he had entered, he left the room.
Ofer thought to himself that if Yoav hadn’t hurried to leave the room and closed the door after him, he would probably try to snap his old classmate’s neck with his bare hands.
Chapter 9
Ofer remained in the room, fuming with anger and shrunken with terror. He had no choice but to deal with the tangled web of frightening facts his good friend had presented to him without any consideration or sentiment.
He glanced at his watch. It was already past noontime. He examined his body methodically and carefully and found all his limbs to be in good shape. No fever, no cough, no rash, not even the s
lightest hint of a sickness or any other of the calamities Yoav Tzuri had tried to scare him with. On the contrary. What Yoav told him was truly a cause for concern, but he decided that so long as his mind was working, his body was functioning and he was feeling well, he would not allow anything to stop him.
Besides, he encouraged himself, even Yoav said that I look well, so there’s a good chance I wasn’t infected. But if I’m healthy, why not simply get out of here? A hospital is a dangerous place for healthy people. You always know in what shape you come in, but you never know in what shape you’ll come out. And I have so much to do.
The obvious conclusion was very simple. He quickly changed out of his blue pajamas and into the smelly clothes he wore in the prison cell. Suddenly, they smelled like roses to him. He crossed to the door and tried the handle. The door was open.
Could it be that Yoav only pretended to lock it but actually allowed me to escape? he asked himself, surprise mixing with gratitude. He did not waste any more time wondering whether his good friend had left him a way to escape or if it was just a stroke of luck. He walked out of the room. No one could be seen beyond the door. He passed through the long corridor quickly, past the thick glass doors that slid open for him and exited the isolation wing.
The people in the hospital corridors continued to run around and perform their various tasks and errands, without even a hint that a dreadful plague might be lurking among the people committed to the hospital’s isolation wing or inside the body of Ofer Angel. Ofer sat in the backseat of a taxi and called the office from his cell phone.
He recognized the voice of Efrat, Gideon Geller’s secretary. “Efrat, I need to speak to Geller urgently,” he said without delay.
“Ofer, where are you? Attorney Geller is in court. They filed an urgent request to stop the Viromedical privatization; there’s a hearing today at three thirty. Geller’s there. In the Tel Aviv District Court. Tell me, where have you disappeared to?” Efrat spoke with the speed of a submachine gun.
“I’ll talk to you later,” said Ofer and instructed the driver to go to Weizmann Street in Tel Aviv.