Hope in the Day of Torment, Part 3
+++++
Lucas waited until he heard the front door shut, then asked, "Lina?"
Lina cried inarticulately for several minutes. Ignoring the pain throbbing through his arms, Lucas kept telling her, "Shh, shh, it's all right, it's over. They're gone now." Eventually, she managed to speak again, and sobbed, "I'm so sorry!"
"It's not your fault," Lucas said, but Lina said, "Lucas, this is like what they did to you in Russia, isn't it?"
She hardly gave him a chance to answer, and Lucas was glad as she continued, "I'm so sorry! I don't know why they didn't believe me, but I was telling them the truth! I didn't want you to have to go through something like that again!" She swallowed down a sob. "How did you stand it?"
Lucas ignored that question and said, "We need to get out of here."
"How?" Lina asked, her voice still shaky.
"If you could reach my hand, you could rub this twine against my watchband until it's worn through."
He heard Lina stretch and then fall back. "It's too far! I can't reach!"
Lucas thought for a moment, then said, "Can you roll onto your side?"
Lina must have moved her arm wrong, because she gasped. "It hurts! And I'll hurt you!"
"I know it will hurt," Lucas said, "but it's our only chance. We'll do it at the same time, all right? You go to your right, I'll go to my left, and then we'll use our feet to push ourselves together. Ready? One, two, three."
On three, both of them shrieking at the agony that the movement produced, they flung themselves onto their sides. Although Lina made it, Lucas didn't; his chair teetered for a moment, then fell back, whipping his injured arms around with him. He finished screaming and lay there panting for a moment. When he could speak normally again, he said, "Now see if you can push yourself towards me."
Lina needed several tries, but finally managed to use her foot and the elbow of her good arm to inchworm her way across the carpet until she was able to grip his hand. Holding back a cry of pain, Lucas clasped her fingers weakly, then let go. Lina picked up the loose part of the twine and began to scour it against Lucas' metal watchband. At length, she developed the technique of fitting the twine between two of the little metal bars and pulling on it, using the corner of one bar as a substitute knife edge. "Does this hurt you too much?"
"It's fine," Lucas lied, trying not to grunt each time her tugs sent pain shooting up his arm. Instead, he found himself counting them under his breath, and adding his wife's name just as he'd done when he was in the Russian prison. Twenty one Kapitolina. Twenty two Kapitolina. Bit by bit, the twine gave way.
"Got it!" Lina finally exclaimed, then moved on to the piece of twine holding their other arms together. It separated at long last as well. Bending at the waist, Lina reached behind her and wrestled the chair away, sliding its legs up her own until she'd pulled them out of the bindings and freed herself. Holding her injured arm close to her body, she crawled over to Lucas and began to pick at the knot holding his left leg.
"Lina, get my mobile," Lucas told her, but when she continued to work on the twine, he shouted, "Now!"
Startled, frightened, and a little angry at the harsh tone of his voice, she let go and looked at him reproachfully.
"Get my mobile and call Harry," he said, more gently. "It's in my coat, in the inside pocket."
Harry Pearce wasn't just a friend, or a colleague, he was head of the counter-terrorism department at MI-5, and would want to know about disappearing Russians who might or might not be in the mafia. Lina stood up and stumbled into the hall, then returned with his coat, spread it out on the easy chair, and fumbled for the phone. She pushed it open with her chin, then looked at Lucas for further instructions.
"Harry Pearce," he told her. "It should be the first number."
Lina found it and pressed the button to dial.
"Bring it here," Lucas said. "Hold it for me." Belatedly, he remembered to add, "Please."
Harry answered on the third ring. "Hello, Lucas, you're calling to confess, aren't you? You've ditched your minder and gone to visit your ex-wife instead of going shopping like you were supposed to."
Lucas wasn't surprised that Harry knew what he had done. Harry had probably been waiting for Lucas to try something like that ever since he'd looked Lina up and given her address to Lucas a week ago, but now wasn't the time to talk about that. Instead, Lucas said, "Harry, listen. We've been – attacked. There were two men here who claimed that her husband was a man named Gennady Mikhailovich, and—"
"Wait a minute," Harry said. "Gennady Mikhailovich Chtgheglovski?"
He tripped over the unfamiliar combination of consonants.
"They didn't say Chtgheglovski –" Lucas said, but stopped when Lina pulled the phone away and pressed it to her own ear.
"Harry, please help us," she said, then burst into tears yet again. Sobbing, she continued to speak. "There were men here … and they tortured us … I've never heard of Gennady Mikhailovich … they said it was my husband, but that's not his name … you've got to help us … they've broken my arm … they've broken Lucas' arms, too, both of them!"
She listened for a moment, then shrieked suddenly, "I don't know that name! I don't know!"
Angrily, Lina pressed the button to disconnect. "That bloody man! He didn't even listen when I said we'd been tortured, all he can do is ask about that bloody Gennady Mikhailovich! I'm calling 999!"
After she'd finished talking to the dispatcher, Lina announced, "An ambulance is on the way."
Lucas didn't answer. Lina got up and went into the kitchen, then came back carrying a pair of kitchen shears. After she'd cut through the twine holding Lucas' legs to the chair, she sank down next to Lucas and began to sob again. Very slowly and carefully, Lucas moved his arms down to where he could hug them both to his chest, making little hissing sounds of pain. He rested for a long moment, counting his heartbeats and waiting for the agony to ebb back to a bearable level. After losing count sometime past five hundred Kapitolina, he rolled himself off the chair and onto his side on the carpet. His knees collided with Lina's, and she glanced miserably at him.
"I'm so sorry," she bawled again. "I would have told them if I'd known anything! I didn't want them to hurt you!"
"I know," Lucas said, wishing he could reach out and hug her.
"Why wouldn't they believe me when I said I didn't know?" Lina screeched. "If they'd kept on torturing us, they could have killed us! They would have killed us!"
That was true, but Lucas tried to comfort her by saying, "They would have stopped eventually."
"I was so scared," Lina said through her tears. "I thought I was going to pee my pants, I was so scared!"
"I was scared, too," Lucas admitted.
"You didn't sound scared," she scoffed. "You still don't. You're just like James Bond!"
"I'm shaking now," he said, and it was true; he was shivering. He felt cold and sweaty at the same time, and strangely tired. Lina reached out her good hand and laid it gently on his cheek. Turning his head slightly, Lucas kissed the base of her thumb, not caring whether it was appropriate or not. It was the only support he could give her. He could feel her hand trembling beneath his lips, and kissed it again, thinking two Kapitolina to himself. Then he closed his eyes, trying to forget the pain, and concentrated only on her touch.
The melodious chiming of the doorbell woke him from a hazy daydreaming kind of doze, and Lina jerked upright in terror. "They're back!"
Lucas had been startled, too, but then a moment of common sense asserted itself, and he murmured, "I don't think they'd ring if they were."
The bell chimed again, then there was knocking, and Lucas could hear a muffled voice calling his name and Lina's. "It's Harry, it must be Harry."
Hauling herself to her feet, Lina went into the hall. Lucas heard the door open and a moment later, Harry came into the living room, asking, "You've already called an ambulance?"
"Yes," Lina snapped.
"Here, sit down," Harry said, indicating the armchair. He waited until Lina had sunk into it, curling protectively over her arm, then knelt down next to Lucas. "Are you all right?"
Lucas stared up at him, not knowing how to answer that, and finally settled for saying, "I'll live."
"What happened?"
"It's just like I told you on the phone," Lina answered for him. "These men came into my flat and tortured us!"
"They were asking you about a man named Gennady Mikhailovich," Harry prompted. "Did they say why they thought you knew about him?"
The doorbell chimed again and Lina said, "Ambulance." She started to get up, but Harry stopped her. "I'll go."
He returned with two paramedics, one of whom immediately knelt down and began to examine Lucas. Dodging the lamp that the man was trying to shine in his eyes, Lucas craned his neck and called, "Harry?"
Harry had picked up one of the chairs to take it back into the kitchen, but now he stopped. "Yes, Lucas."
"The picture on the wall." He flicked his eyes in the general direction, not wanting to look directly at the portrait. "That one of Lina and Nick Barnes. They said that was Gennady Mikhailovich."
Harry's face lit up. "Thank you, Lucas."
Satisfied that he'd told Harry the most important thing, Lucas lay back and let the paramedic carry on. He was vaguely aware of Harry asking Lina if he could take the photo, but he didn't hear her answer, as the man had finished with his head and was now probing his arms and asking how it had happened. Although the man was probably trying to be gentle, his touch made Lucas hiss in pain before he could answer. The paramedic gave Lucas an injection for the pain, pulling the waistband of his trousers down far enough so that he could administer it in Lucas' hip. Reaching for some splints from his bag, he then immobilized both of Lucas' arms and said, "My colleague's just getting the trolley. Can you sit up, or should we lift you on to it?"
Lucas managed, with the paramedic's help, to straighten up and collapse backwards onto the trolley. The paramedics arranged his legs, then covered him with a red blanket, which was delightfully warm and comforting. When Lucas realized that they were tightening straps across his legs, however, panic exploded through him and he struggled to sit up.
"Sir, what is it?" the woman paramedic asked. "Is something wrong?"
They didn't hold him down, and as Lucas finished wrestling himself upright, he realized he'd been expecting exactly that. Hunched over, breathing against the pain, he finally managed to say, "I can walk. I'll walk outside – and Harry can drive me to the hospital."
One part of his mind was telling him that his reaction was both silly and unnecessary; they were paramedics, here to help and not hurt him. But the other part of his mind, the one that was frightened and panicked, was still in control. Lucas shuffled his legs, trying to pull them out from under the strap and the blanket at the same time, and jumped as someone laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Lucas," Harry said. "It's all right. They're not tying you down. These aren't restraints."
He made a motion to the paramedics, and the woman hastily undid the strap.
"Absolutely right," she assured him. "We're not tying you up. We've got to take the trolley down the stairs and we just wanted to make sure you don't slide off on the way, that's all."
"Can you do it without the straps?" Harry asked, and the man shook his head doubtfully. "I wouldn't like to try it. It's a bit steep."
"All right, then, let him walk," Harry said, and reached out a hand. "Come on, Lucas, I'll help you."
His panic had receded rapidly once the strap was undone, and now Lucas felt hot shame flooding through him. Why was he reacting like this now, why not earlier, when the men had tied him to the chair, or when they'd tied his wrists to Lina's and broken his arms? How could he react like a properly trained agent one minute, and then fall apart the next, when the crisis was over and he was safe? Not looking at Harry, he took a deep breath, then said, "No, it's all right. I can m-manage."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked.
Lucas nodded and even forced himself to lay down again, but his heart was pounding in his chest as the paramedics tucked the blanket around him. When they pulled the straps over his legs and his upper arms, he began to tremble, and the woman gave him an encouraging smile. "We can take them off again once we're down the stairs, all right? Just two minutes."
To Harry, she said, "It's a perfectly understandable reaction after a violent crime like this."
Harry didn't answer, but Lucas thought that his expression said, If you only knew.
The stairs were steep, and the rational part of Lucas' mind was glad for the straps as they went down, even though he knew the chances of him sliding off the trolley and landing in a broken heap at the bottom were actually very slim. To his relief, the paramedics kept their word, undoing the straps as soon as they were on level ground again.
The woman paramedic went back for Lina, putting her in the front of the ambulance, and then they drove to the nearest hospital. After a whirl of examinations and X-rays, the doctor deadened the nerves in Lucas' arms and fitted him with casts that stretched from the middle of his hands up to his elbows.
"I'd like you to stay overnight for observation," the doctor told him. "I'll just call upstairs for them to prepare a bed on the ward."
The painkiller had made Lucas lightheaded and sleepy, but the thought of not being allowed to leave, of being forcibly separated from everything that was familiar to him, woke him up as effectively as cold water. He shook his head. "No. I'm not staying."
"You've had quite a few hard blows to the head," the doctor pointed out. "It really would be better."
"No," Lucas repeated, wrestling his way off the examination trolley. "I'm not staying."
"Is there someone who can be with you and check on you every so often?"
"Yes," Lucas said as he walked to the door and opened it. Harry was strolling down the corridor as though pacing, and Lucas called out to him. "Harry. Harry, I'm not staying here."
Harry turned around, then looked beyond him to the doctor. "It's all right, we'll take care of him."
"Right, then," the doctor said. "Come back in a week, Mr North. Once the healing process is well underway, we can give you some special splints to wear that you can take off for a short time each day, for baths and such."
To Harry, he said, "Watch him, make sure he remains lucid. If he becomes confused, or if he falls asleep and you can't wake him, or if you see any change in his pupils, bring him back immediately."
"We will," Harry said.
The doctor nodded and walked away, and Lucas looked up at Harry. "Have you seen Lina?"
"Yes, she's down here," Harry said. Lucas followed him to the waiting area where Lina was sitting, wearing a cast on her left arm that was identical to Lucas'.
"Lucas," she said as soon as she saw him. "Are you all right? Are they letting you go? I thought they'd insist on you staying here."
"No, I'm fine," Lucas said. "How are you doing?"
"I'm – all right," Lina replied.
"Lina, are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?" Harry asked, and Lina frowned at him.
"You don't care that we've just been tortured! All you want to know is about that bloody Gennady Mikhailovich!"
"I do care," Harry protested, but Lina cut him off.
"Go away," she said tiredly. "I don't want to talk to you. I'm going to call a taxi and go –" She didn't say 'home.'
Harry hesitated a minute, then said, "Lina, I know something about Gennady Mikhailovich, and if you can answer some of our questions, we might be able to find the men who did this to you. Can you help us?"
Lina hesitated, and Lucas urged, "Lina, please? I want to find them, too, for hurting you."
Sighing, Lina gave in. "All right, but only because you asked, Lucas."
Harry said, "Right. Let's go somewhere private where we can talk."
Part 4
Lucas waited until he heard the front door shut, then asked, "Lina?"
Lina cried inarticulately for several minutes. Ignoring the pain throbbing through his arms, Lucas kept telling her, "Shh, shh, it's all right, it's over. They're gone now." Eventually, she managed to speak again, and sobbed, "I'm so sorry!"
"It's not your fault," Lucas said, but Lina said, "Lucas, this is like what they did to you in Russia, isn't it?"
She hardly gave him a chance to answer, and Lucas was glad as she continued, "I'm so sorry! I don't know why they didn't believe me, but I was telling them the truth! I didn't want you to have to go through something like that again!" She swallowed down a sob. "How did you stand it?"
Lucas ignored that question and said, "We need to get out of here."
"How?" Lina asked, her voice still shaky.
"If you could reach my hand, you could rub this twine against my watchband until it's worn through."
He heard Lina stretch and then fall back. "It's too far! I can't reach!"
Lucas thought for a moment, then said, "Can you roll onto your side?"
Lina must have moved her arm wrong, because she gasped. "It hurts! And I'll hurt you!"
"I know it will hurt," Lucas said, "but it's our only chance. We'll do it at the same time, all right? You go to your right, I'll go to my left, and then we'll use our feet to push ourselves together. Ready? One, two, three."
On three, both of them shrieking at the agony that the movement produced, they flung themselves onto their sides. Although Lina made it, Lucas didn't; his chair teetered for a moment, then fell back, whipping his injured arms around with him. He finished screaming and lay there panting for a moment. When he could speak normally again, he said, "Now see if you can push yourself towards me."
Lina needed several tries, but finally managed to use her foot and the elbow of her good arm to inchworm her way across the carpet until she was able to grip his hand. Holding back a cry of pain, Lucas clasped her fingers weakly, then let go. Lina picked up the loose part of the twine and began to scour it against Lucas' metal watchband. At length, she developed the technique of fitting the twine between two of the little metal bars and pulling on it, using the corner of one bar as a substitute knife edge. "Does this hurt you too much?"
"It's fine," Lucas lied, trying not to grunt each time her tugs sent pain shooting up his arm. Instead, he found himself counting them under his breath, and adding his wife's name just as he'd done when he was in the Russian prison. Twenty one Kapitolina. Twenty two Kapitolina. Bit by bit, the twine gave way.
"Got it!" Lina finally exclaimed, then moved on to the piece of twine holding their other arms together. It separated at long last as well. Bending at the waist, Lina reached behind her and wrestled the chair away, sliding its legs up her own until she'd pulled them out of the bindings and freed herself. Holding her injured arm close to her body, she crawled over to Lucas and began to pick at the knot holding his left leg.
"Lina, get my mobile," Lucas told her, but when she continued to work on the twine, he shouted, "Now!"
Startled, frightened, and a little angry at the harsh tone of his voice, she let go and looked at him reproachfully.
"Get my mobile and call Harry," he said, more gently. "It's in my coat, in the inside pocket."
Harry Pearce wasn't just a friend, or a colleague, he was head of the counter-terrorism department at MI-5, and would want to know about disappearing Russians who might or might not be in the mafia. Lina stood up and stumbled into the hall, then returned with his coat, spread it out on the easy chair, and fumbled for the phone. She pushed it open with her chin, then looked at Lucas for further instructions.
"Harry Pearce," he told her. "It should be the first number."
Lina found it and pressed the button to dial.
"Bring it here," Lucas said. "Hold it for me." Belatedly, he remembered to add, "Please."
Harry answered on the third ring. "Hello, Lucas, you're calling to confess, aren't you? You've ditched your minder and gone to visit your ex-wife instead of going shopping like you were supposed to."
Lucas wasn't surprised that Harry knew what he had done. Harry had probably been waiting for Lucas to try something like that ever since he'd looked Lina up and given her address to Lucas a week ago, but now wasn't the time to talk about that. Instead, Lucas said, "Harry, listen. We've been – attacked. There were two men here who claimed that her husband was a man named Gennady Mikhailovich, and—"
"Wait a minute," Harry said. "Gennady Mikhailovich Chtgheglovski?"
He tripped over the unfamiliar combination of consonants.
"They didn't say Chtgheglovski –" Lucas said, but stopped when Lina pulled the phone away and pressed it to her own ear.
"Harry, please help us," she said, then burst into tears yet again. Sobbing, she continued to speak. "There were men here … and they tortured us … I've never heard of Gennady Mikhailovich … they said it was my husband, but that's not his name … you've got to help us … they've broken my arm … they've broken Lucas' arms, too, both of them!"
She listened for a moment, then shrieked suddenly, "I don't know that name! I don't know!"
Angrily, Lina pressed the button to disconnect. "That bloody man! He didn't even listen when I said we'd been tortured, all he can do is ask about that bloody Gennady Mikhailovich! I'm calling 999!"
After she'd finished talking to the dispatcher, Lina announced, "An ambulance is on the way."
Lucas didn't answer. Lina got up and went into the kitchen, then came back carrying a pair of kitchen shears. After she'd cut through the twine holding Lucas' legs to the chair, she sank down next to Lucas and began to sob again. Very slowly and carefully, Lucas moved his arms down to where he could hug them both to his chest, making little hissing sounds of pain. He rested for a long moment, counting his heartbeats and waiting for the agony to ebb back to a bearable level. After losing count sometime past five hundred Kapitolina, he rolled himself off the chair and onto his side on the carpet. His knees collided with Lina's, and she glanced miserably at him.
"I'm so sorry," she bawled again. "I would have told them if I'd known anything! I didn't want them to hurt you!"
"I know," Lucas said, wishing he could reach out and hug her.
"Why wouldn't they believe me when I said I didn't know?" Lina screeched. "If they'd kept on torturing us, they could have killed us! They would have killed us!"
That was true, but Lucas tried to comfort her by saying, "They would have stopped eventually."
"I was so scared," Lina said through her tears. "I thought I was going to pee my pants, I was so scared!"
"I was scared, too," Lucas admitted.
"You didn't sound scared," she scoffed. "You still don't. You're just like James Bond!"
"I'm shaking now," he said, and it was true; he was shivering. He felt cold and sweaty at the same time, and strangely tired. Lina reached out her good hand and laid it gently on his cheek. Turning his head slightly, Lucas kissed the base of her thumb, not caring whether it was appropriate or not. It was the only support he could give her. He could feel her hand trembling beneath his lips, and kissed it again, thinking two Kapitolina to himself. Then he closed his eyes, trying to forget the pain, and concentrated only on her touch.
The melodious chiming of the doorbell woke him from a hazy daydreaming kind of doze, and Lina jerked upright in terror. "They're back!"
Lucas had been startled, too, but then a moment of common sense asserted itself, and he murmured, "I don't think they'd ring if they were."
The bell chimed again, then there was knocking, and Lucas could hear a muffled voice calling his name and Lina's. "It's Harry, it must be Harry."
Hauling herself to her feet, Lina went into the hall. Lucas heard the door open and a moment later, Harry came into the living room, asking, "You've already called an ambulance?"
"Yes," Lina snapped.
"Here, sit down," Harry said, indicating the armchair. He waited until Lina had sunk into it, curling protectively over her arm, then knelt down next to Lucas. "Are you all right?"
Lucas stared up at him, not knowing how to answer that, and finally settled for saying, "I'll live."
"What happened?"
"It's just like I told you on the phone," Lina answered for him. "These men came into my flat and tortured us!"
"They were asking you about a man named Gennady Mikhailovich," Harry prompted. "Did they say why they thought you knew about him?"
The doorbell chimed again and Lina said, "Ambulance." She started to get up, but Harry stopped her. "I'll go."
He returned with two paramedics, one of whom immediately knelt down and began to examine Lucas. Dodging the lamp that the man was trying to shine in his eyes, Lucas craned his neck and called, "Harry?"
Harry had picked up one of the chairs to take it back into the kitchen, but now he stopped. "Yes, Lucas."
"The picture on the wall." He flicked his eyes in the general direction, not wanting to look directly at the portrait. "That one of Lina and Nick Barnes. They said that was Gennady Mikhailovich."
Harry's face lit up. "Thank you, Lucas."
Satisfied that he'd told Harry the most important thing, Lucas lay back and let the paramedic carry on. He was vaguely aware of Harry asking Lina if he could take the photo, but he didn't hear her answer, as the man had finished with his head and was now probing his arms and asking how it had happened. Although the man was probably trying to be gentle, his touch made Lucas hiss in pain before he could answer. The paramedic gave Lucas an injection for the pain, pulling the waistband of his trousers down far enough so that he could administer it in Lucas' hip. Reaching for some splints from his bag, he then immobilized both of Lucas' arms and said, "My colleague's just getting the trolley. Can you sit up, or should we lift you on to it?"
Lucas managed, with the paramedic's help, to straighten up and collapse backwards onto the trolley. The paramedics arranged his legs, then covered him with a red blanket, which was delightfully warm and comforting. When Lucas realized that they were tightening straps across his legs, however, panic exploded through him and he struggled to sit up.
"Sir, what is it?" the woman paramedic asked. "Is something wrong?"
They didn't hold him down, and as Lucas finished wrestling himself upright, he realized he'd been expecting exactly that. Hunched over, breathing against the pain, he finally managed to say, "I can walk. I'll walk outside – and Harry can drive me to the hospital."
One part of his mind was telling him that his reaction was both silly and unnecessary; they were paramedics, here to help and not hurt him. But the other part of his mind, the one that was frightened and panicked, was still in control. Lucas shuffled his legs, trying to pull them out from under the strap and the blanket at the same time, and jumped as someone laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Lucas," Harry said. "It's all right. They're not tying you down. These aren't restraints."
He made a motion to the paramedics, and the woman hastily undid the strap.
"Absolutely right," she assured him. "We're not tying you up. We've got to take the trolley down the stairs and we just wanted to make sure you don't slide off on the way, that's all."
"Can you do it without the straps?" Harry asked, and the man shook his head doubtfully. "I wouldn't like to try it. It's a bit steep."
"All right, then, let him walk," Harry said, and reached out a hand. "Come on, Lucas, I'll help you."
His panic had receded rapidly once the strap was undone, and now Lucas felt hot shame flooding through him. Why was he reacting like this now, why not earlier, when the men had tied him to the chair, or when they'd tied his wrists to Lina's and broken his arms? How could he react like a properly trained agent one minute, and then fall apart the next, when the crisis was over and he was safe? Not looking at Harry, he took a deep breath, then said, "No, it's all right. I can m-manage."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked.
Lucas nodded and even forced himself to lay down again, but his heart was pounding in his chest as the paramedics tucked the blanket around him. When they pulled the straps over his legs and his upper arms, he began to tremble, and the woman gave him an encouraging smile. "We can take them off again once we're down the stairs, all right? Just two minutes."
To Harry, she said, "It's a perfectly understandable reaction after a violent crime like this."
Harry didn't answer, but Lucas thought that his expression said, If you only knew.
The stairs were steep, and the rational part of Lucas' mind was glad for the straps as they went down, even though he knew the chances of him sliding off the trolley and landing in a broken heap at the bottom were actually very slim. To his relief, the paramedics kept their word, undoing the straps as soon as they were on level ground again.
The woman paramedic went back for Lina, putting her in the front of the ambulance, and then they drove to the nearest hospital. After a whirl of examinations and X-rays, the doctor deadened the nerves in Lucas' arms and fitted him with casts that stretched from the middle of his hands up to his elbows.
"I'd like you to stay overnight for observation," the doctor told him. "I'll just call upstairs for them to prepare a bed on the ward."
The painkiller had made Lucas lightheaded and sleepy, but the thought of not being allowed to leave, of being forcibly separated from everything that was familiar to him, woke him up as effectively as cold water. He shook his head. "No. I'm not staying."
"You've had quite a few hard blows to the head," the doctor pointed out. "It really would be better."
"No," Lucas repeated, wrestling his way off the examination trolley. "I'm not staying."
"Is there someone who can be with you and check on you every so often?"
"Yes," Lucas said as he walked to the door and opened it. Harry was strolling down the corridor as though pacing, and Lucas called out to him. "Harry. Harry, I'm not staying here."
Harry turned around, then looked beyond him to the doctor. "It's all right, we'll take care of him."
"Right, then," the doctor said. "Come back in a week, Mr North. Once the healing process is well underway, we can give you some special splints to wear that you can take off for a short time each day, for baths and such."
To Harry, he said, "Watch him, make sure he remains lucid. If he becomes confused, or if he falls asleep and you can't wake him, or if you see any change in his pupils, bring him back immediately."
"We will," Harry said.
The doctor nodded and walked away, and Lucas looked up at Harry. "Have you seen Lina?"
"Yes, she's down here," Harry said. Lucas followed him to the waiting area where Lina was sitting, wearing a cast on her left arm that was identical to Lucas'.
"Lucas," she said as soon as she saw him. "Are you all right? Are they letting you go? I thought they'd insist on you staying here."
"No, I'm fine," Lucas said. "How are you doing?"
"I'm – all right," Lina replied.
"Lina, are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?" Harry asked, and Lina frowned at him.
"You don't care that we've just been tortured! All you want to know is about that bloody Gennady Mikhailovich!"
"I do care," Harry protested, but Lina cut him off.
"Go away," she said tiredly. "I don't want to talk to you. I'm going to call a taxi and go –" She didn't say 'home.'
Harry hesitated a minute, then said, "Lina, I know something about Gennady Mikhailovich, and if you can answer some of our questions, we might be able to find the men who did this to you. Can you help us?"
Lina hesitated, and Lucas urged, "Lina, please? I want to find them, too, for hurting you."
Sighing, Lina gave in. "All right, but only because you asked, Lucas."
Harry said, "Right. Let's go somewhere private where we can talk."
Part 4