“I’ll find whatever money is needed.”
“We could be talking of as much as ten thousand dollars because of the long time of rest in the isolation hospital. There’s a hospital in Manhattan that has considerable experience of handling and treating tuberculosis but that would be even more expensive.”
“Could I pay by the week?”
“The drug would have to be paid in a lump sum but I could try and negotiate a weekly payment for the sanatorium.” She stood up. “Leave it to me to sort out the best thing to do.”
Aarons stood up unsteadily. “How bad is she?”
She knew when she had to lie or half-lie and she said, “I’m optimistic let us say. We’ve caught it early.”
“How did you find out about this?”
“She was feeling very tired. She came to me for a tonic. I decided to check her over.” She walked him to the door. “If you care to wait until my surgery is finished I could perhaps let you know a little more.”
“I need to make some phone calls. I’ll come back in half an hour.”
Aarons sat in the coffee shop and coded the message to Moscow asking if he could use money from the funds. Ignoring his usual careful security he phoned it through to Cowley and told him to use the emergency schedule, and repeat it on the afternoon schedule.
There were dollars enough in his KGB fund and he was sure that when they knew about Chantal’s illness they would agree. He would only be borrowing the money. He had made that clear.
Aarons phoned Cowley twice in the next hour. The message had been transmitted and acknowledged but there had been no reply.
He walked back to Dr. Zetkin’s surgery. The surgery was closed and he rang the bell and waited in the street. After waiting for ten minutes he walked back to the bookshop. The doctor was there, supervising two ambulance men who were loading a stretcher into the vehicle. As he hurried forward the doctor stopped him.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to keep away, Mr. Aarons. It’s highly infectious. I’m having her taken to our local hospital, they have an isolation ward.”
“But I haven’t even spoken to her about all this.”
“I’m afraid she’s in no state to talk. She’s got a high temperature from the fever. She’ll be in good hands.”
“What about the hospital in Manhattan?”
“Right now she needs urgent medical care. It’s a critical period. You can let me know about the hospital and the drug in the next few days. You’d need to allow about two thousand dollars for the drug.”
“I’ll bring you half tonight. Is that all right?”
“Yes. Of course.” She saw the tears in his eyes and put her hand on his arm. “There is a fund which the City of New York set up to help immigrants with health problems. I’ve spoken to their president, a friend of mine. If your wife stays in the local hospital they will pay all the nursing and accommodation fees. Don’t worry, we shall do our best.”
It was three weeks before Andrei was allowed to see his wife through the observation windows at the hospital. She was asleep and she looked thin and pale. But she always had a pale complexion. When his visit time was up a nurse took him to see Dr. Zetkin in the waiting room.
“She’s making reasonable progress, Mr. Aarons. I’m very hopeful. It takes time to assess the drug dosage but we seem to have it right. There’s no spread of the infection to other parts of the body and that’s a good sign.”
“I’m very grateful, doctor. How long will it take?”
“If things go on I guess it would be another two months and then at least a month’s convalescence.” She paused and looked at him. “I think you’ll have to accept that it will take a long time before she’s properly fit again.”
He handed her an envelope. “That’s the rest of the money for the drugs. Can you tell me what I shall owe for the hospital treatment?”
“The fund I told you about are paying all the hospital charges and that will continue until your wife is discharged.”
“Could you tell me who I can write to to thank them for their help?”
She reached for a prescription pad and wrote out a name and address. As she handed the slip to him she said, “They’ll appreciate a letter.” She paused. “Just one more thing. As you know I’ve checked you all for the infection and you’re all clear but there are lots of factors that contribute to this disease. One of them is stress.” She paused. “I got the impression that despite appearances there’s some kind of tension in your family. Do you know what I mean?”
“We keep to ourselves if that’s what you mean.”
“Mr. Aarons. That’s not what I mean and you know it’s not. Let me be frank with you. I see your wife seriously ill in this place. Your sister Anna is thirty-three. Far too good-looking not to be married. Your brother is thirty or so. Also not married. But when I ask them questions they respond as if I were the police accusing them of some crime.”
“I think you’re mistaken, doctor. We just live very normal lives.”
She shook her head. “You’re responding the same way yourself. It’s time you did a little self-analysis, Mr. Aarons. You’ve been in Brighton Beach for, what is it now, over four years. I heard about you way, way back.” She smiled. “A dedicated man. And dedicated men, in my experience, are all too often oblivious to what’s going on around them. I’d like
