Once the new strategy had been accepted, the problem had then switched to the nurses’ reactions and the question of their cooperation. Although the group had become so acculturated to American culture from their month in Los Angeles, so addicted to the money they were being paid for the benefit of their families, and were so looking forward to emigrating that they would most likely do whatever was asked of them, Cal, Petra, and Durell were unsure. Santana, on the other hand, thought the nurses would have no problem, as they would be aided by their belief in samsara and particularly their belief in the importance of the organization and the group over the individual. Santana had then said the key was Veena and getting her to accept that it was her dharma to “put to sleep” an American patient. The idea was that if she was willing to do it, as the de facto leader, the rest would unquestioningly follow suit.
But Veena’s cooperation was not a given. While everyone agreed she was the most committed to the team and the most desirous of emigrating, everyone had sensed a disconnect of her obvious keen intelligence, her inborn leadership ability, and her exceptional beauty, with her equally apparent poor self-image and lack of self-esteem. With such a thought in mind, Santana had gone on to explain it was her professional opinion that Veena was burdened with serious psychological baggage of some sort on top of a strongly ingrained attachment to traditional Indian culture and religiosity. She also had suggested that learning the issue and offering to help her with it, whatever it was, might be key in obtaining Veena’s cooperation.
At that point all had looked to Durell. It was common knowledge he was intimate with one of the nurses, Samira Patel. Although this affair had been looked upon with disapproval by Petra and Santana, suddenly it became useful. Since Samira had been Veena’s roommate as well as her best friend, they believed that if Veena had confided in anyone, it would have been Samira. Consequently Durell had been tasked to find out, which he did by convincing Samira that Nurses International needed to help Veena, and if they weren’t able to do so out of ignorance of what was troubling her, the whole program, including helping the nurses to emigrate to the United States, would be in peril.
Samira clearly believed every word and, despite having been sworn to secrecy, related Veena’s painful family history. Armed with this information, Cal had approached Veena the previous afternoon with his offer to stop the abuse once and for all in return for her cooperation and leadership in regard to the new strategy. Veena had initially demurred but then had changed her mind, because of the promise of eliminating the threats to her sisters and mother. That had always been the biggest concern standing in the way of her being able to emigrate.
Cal Morgan Sighed. Having rehashed this history, he realized the whole program of discouraging Americans to come to India for surgery had hardly been the walk in the park that he’d initially assumed it would be. He shook his head and wondered what else was going to happen. Recognizing there was no way to anticipate the unexpected, he decided he needed an exit strategy. If worse came to worse, he needed to have a plan and resources to get out of India, at least for himself and the other three principals. He promised himself he’d bring it up that morning at the eight-o’clock meeting he’d scheduled.
Rolling over, Cal looked at the face of his alarm clock. At six-forty-five it was time to get up if he wanted to get in a run before breakfast, and he could check on Veena to make sure she was up and planning to go to work. Although the doctors had cleaned her out the night before in the emergency department and thought she’d absorbed a minimum of the Ambien because of Cal’s rapid efforts, he had to be certain. Her not showing up for work the very next day after Mrs. Hernandez’s passing might attract some attention if there was any reason for someone to doubt the patient’s death was natural. There was also the concern that Veena had been noticed at the hospital well after her shift had been over.
With his jogging gear on, Cal headed in the direction of the guest wing. Rounding the last turn, he saw Veena’s door was ajar, which he thought encouraging. Once at the entrance he knocked on the jamb, said hello, and leaned into the room all at the same time. Veena was sitting on her bed in a robe. Except for the slight reddish color of the whites of her eyes, she appeared normal and as gorgeous as ever. She wasn’t alone. Santana was sitting on Samira’s bed opposite Veena.
“I’m glad to say the patient feels fine,” Santana said. Santana was five years Cal’s senior. Like Cal, she was dressed in a jogging outfit, but unlike Cal’s, the outfit was stylish, with black, shiny, skintight pants and an equally tight, black short-sleeved shirt made of synthetic fabric. Her dark, thick hair was in a ponytail pinned up against the back of her head.
“Terrific!” Cal said, and meant it. “You are going to work, I presume?” he asked Veena.
“Of course,” Veena said. The voice reflected the mildly drugged feeling she was experiencing.
“We’ve been talking about what happened last night,” Santana said forthrightly.
“Terrific,” Cal repeated, but without the same enthusiasm. He couldn’t help but feel reluctant discussing an issue he’d be uncomfortable talking about if he’d been the one involved.
“She has assured me that she will not try it again.”
“That’s nice,” Cal responded, while thinking
“She said she did it because she felt the gods would look kindly on her: sorta a life for a life. But now, because the gods saved her, she feels they want her to stay alive. In actuality, she believes the whole episode is her karma.”
Cal had then excused himself and left, despite being mildly concerned the women might take the opportunity to discuss him. But he didn’t worry about it for long. Exiting the bungalow and running out through the front gate, he began his jog. Chanakyapuri was one of the few areas of the city other than the coastal ridge reserved forest where running was enjoyable. Unfortunately, he was later than usual, and the traffic was already heavy and increasing with every passing minute. The dust and pollution were already almost to midday levels. In response, he exited the main road in favor of backstreets. There the air was better, but not far from the clogged main road he ran into a large group of monkeys, which always scared him. Delhi monkeys were remarkably bold, at least from Cal’s experience. It wasn’t that he thought they would attack him en masse, but more because he worried they carried some exotic diseases that he might catch, especially if one bit him. That morning, as if sensing this unease, the animals chased after him, baring their yellow teeth, chattering, and screeching as if they were crazed.
Deciding that monkeys and pollution were more than enough reason to consider the jog that morning a bust, Cal abruptly switched directions, causing the monkeys to flee in panic. Like a horse intent on returning to the barn, Cal rapidly retraced his route back to the mansion. After being outside for less than a half-hour, he was happy to be inside and particularly happy to step into his shower. While he lathered and shaved, and despite the disappointing jogging experience, he thought of the morning in a positive light. The short conversation with Santana had significantly relieved a concern about Veena. The suicide gesture had scared him, and until Santana’s reassurance to the contrary, he’d been worried she might try it again. Now he was confident that wouldn’t happen, and by involving the concept of karma, Veena apparently now thought of what she’d done to Mrs. Hernandez as part of her fate, which boded well for the cooperation of the other nurses.
After enjoying a breakfast of ham and eggs prepared by the bungalow’s chef, Cal headed toward the glass- enclosed conservatory at the back of the house. When they had moved into the house, the room had only chairs, but they had added a round table and used the space as their morning conference room.
When Cal walked in, the other three were already seated and their lively conversation trailed off. Cal took his usual chair, facing directly out into the garden with his back to the mansion’s interior. The others had taken their usual chairs as well, suggesting all four to be creatures of habit. Santana was to Cal’s right, Petra to his left, and Durell directly across. Each of their postures reflected to a degree their personality. With quiet confidence, Durell was slouching, cradling his chin in his hand with his elbow on the arm of the chair. He was a powerful-appearing, heavily muscled man with mahogany-colored skin and a dark pencil-line goatee and mustache. Petra was sitting bolt upright on the edge of her chair as if in grammar school with the need to impress the teacher with the degree of her attention. She was a remarkably tall, handsome woman, high-colored and high-spirited. Santana was sitting back
