Better in the Dark (14 page)

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she began, then changed her mind. “You might give me some coffee or tea.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything but herbal teas, but you’re welcome to that. Here.” He opened a door. “Go on in and set yourself up. The equipment is old-fashioned, but I promise you I can do almost all the basics here. If you can’t find anything, just ask for it.”

Natalie thanked him, then took the specimen packs from her pocket. The room was small, neat and immaculate, and she looked for her slides so that she could begin work.

She was interrupted just once, when Ernest Dagstern brought her a cup of tea with the words, “I thought you could use this blend, Dr. Lebbreau. It’s supposed to help concentration.”

“Thank you,” she murmured as she put the first of the slides under the microscope.

“So at least there are no major infections to speak of,” Natalie told Harry late that night as they sat once more in his living room. “But that’s trivial, really.”

“What’s the matter, then?” Harry asked. In the time they had been sharing his apartment, he had learned to read her face, and he knew that she was deeply troubled. “Tell me, Natalie.”

“I talked to Alison,” she said, letting a sigh escape her. “I tried to convince her, Harry, I truly did. But she is afraid to. She says the other kids won’t understand.”

“Understand what? What other kids?” Harry took one of her hands between his and was shocked to discover how cold she was.

“I don’t know. She refused to tell me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The underground is a good idea, but it isn’t going to have a chance to work.”

“But it
has
to,” Harry said, desperation coming over him once more. “If we can’t get it organized and going, we might as well lie down and die right now. Are you sure you told that kid ... Alison ... what we’re facing? Did you make her see what we have to do?”

Natalie withdrew her hand. “Yes, Harry. I tried everything I could think of, and there was no budging her. We’ll have to think of something else. But not now. I’m too tired.”

But Harry wasn’t ready to give up. “We could ask Dagstern. He must have some professional contacts we can use. He could enlist his patients...”

“Sure,” she said with tired sarcasm.

“All right, then,” he said, his voice suddenly loud. “What do we do? Just wait around and die?”

“Harry, I’m tired. I have to get some sleep.” She got unsteadily to her feet. “Maybe all we can do is die. I don’t know.” She wandered to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Harry didn’t answer.

“All right, all right, I’m coming!” Harry called as he felt himself jarred awake by the pounding on the door. He pulled a robe on and stumbled for the door, part of his mind puzzling vaguely at this summons. Who could want him?

He met Natalie in the hall. Her eyes were frightened. “Is it the police? Are they going to arrest us?”

“I don’t know.” He waved her away and went to the door. He hesitated for a moment before pulling the door open. “Yes? What is it?”

Their morning City Patrol guard stood there, his hand raised for further pounding. “Doc?”

“Good morning, Deutch. What’s the meaning of this disturbance?” Harry felt his confidence give way, but knew enough not to betray himself. “It’s very early.”

“I know, Doc. But I had to see you. It’s important. You’ve gotta help me.”

“Why?” Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Natalie come nearer.

“It’s Jeanie, Doc. She’s sick. They say they can’t take her at Westbank, and Inner City is out of room. You’ve gotta come and look at her. It’s probably just the new flu, like the doctors said, but I can’t help it, I’m scared. I’ve never seen her this sick before.”

Harry felt the old manner come back almost automatically. “Don’t get upset, Deutch. I’m sure we can do something for her.” He turned toward Natalie. “You heard?”

“Yes.” She came to the door then, saying to Deutch, “You mentioned you’ve already called Westbank and Inner City. Can you give a little more information about that?”

“Well, there’s a waiting list to get in. But,” he added in a confidential rush, “I know some people have gone there who haven’t come back. I don’t know what’s happened to them. My cousin, he went in with a sore throat and a little cough; we haven’t heard anything from him since then. I know Jeanie’s sick, but they won’t take her now, and to tell you the truth, I’d be scared to take her even if there was room.”

“I see,” Harry said slowly. “Where is your wife?”

“At home. Over on Stockton Parkway. It isn’t far.” Suddenly he hesitated. “I know you did something bad, or they wouldn’t want to have you guarded like this. But it wasn’t anything real bad, was it? I mean, you didn’t kill anyone, did you? ...”

“Not the way you mean,” Harry assured him. Then he turned to Natalie. “I think I’m going. We may still have a chance, Nat.”

Natalie fingered the neck of her flannel gown. “But we can’t do it alone, Harry. We still need help.”

Harry nodded. “I know how.” Again he moved his attention to Deutch. “If I’m going to help your wife, there are a few things you’re going to have to do for me.”

“What are they?” Deutch asked, suspicious.

“When we were put under house arrest, there were several other doctors who were also confined to their homes. I’m going to give you their names and addresses. I’ll need to contact them in case your wife needs more care than we can give in your home. If you can arrange for us to have a conference, perhaps after we examine your wife, we can better determine what should be done for her.”

Deutch frowned, and there was fright in his eyes. “I don’t know, Doc. I’m not supposed to do this, you know. If I let you see the others, then it could be my job.”

Natalie moved closer to the door. “Look, Deutch, you’re worried, of course, and it’s only right that you should be,” she said, making a motion to Harry to be silent. “But you know what it’s like when you go to a hospital—there are all the labs and machines to do a lot of things we may have to do without assistance. That’s one of the reasons we need to see our colleagues, so that we can really take care of your wife. It’s important that we be sure we do everything for her.”

“Yeah...” Deutch said uncertainly.

Once more Harry took over. “Dr. Lebbreau’s right, Deutch. We ought to have the others in. Sure, this might be simple flu, but if it’s not, we don’t want to make any mistakes, or overlook any possibilities.” Vaguely Harry felt this was unethical, scaring Deutch this way, but it was his only chance. He decided that for the moment he would ignore his conscience. This had to be done, and it was just possible that he would need that conference with the others, in case Deutch’s Jeanie really was ill.

“I’ve got to think about it,” Deutch said miserably. “It’s a big risk.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “And we’ll be taking a risk, too, leaving quarters. They could really lock us up if we get caught.”

Natalie plucked at the back of Harry’s robe. “Come on, Harry. We need some coffee,” she said, and reached to close the door. Almost as an afterthought, she looked up at Deutch. “Come back in half an hour, Deutch. If you still need us.” Then, taking the edge of the door, she closed it firmly.

Harry watched her as the silence became oppressive. “Well?” he asked at last.

“It might work. I don’t know.” She leaned against the door, forcing Deutch from her thoughts.

“If it does?”

“Then you can take care of his wife and I’ll go to the others. I won’t be as noticeable as you are. There are more woman on the streets during the day than men. And no one will be looking for us, anyway. They won’t expect us to be out.” She clenched her hands together, her washed-out eyes suddenly very intent. “It’s the only chance, Harry. It’s our last chance. It has to work.”

Harry nodded, reserving his judgment. Now the risks seemed very large. “Let’s have breakfast. No use just waiting around for Deutch to make up his mind.” He put out his hand to her. “We’ll make it,” he said to her.

Natalie thought that perhaps Deutch would be too scared, that he would change his mind at the last minute and go to the authorities. “Do you really think so?” She avoided his hand as she went toward the kitchen, her face wan in the clear morning light.

“Okay,” Deutch said when he knocked on the door over an hour later. “I talked to Jeanie. She’s not getting any better. The Visiting Nurse was over and gave her some medicine, but it isn’t helping. I’ve gotta do something. You’ve gotta help her.”

Harry wished he knew what the Visiting Nurse had given her, but he would have to wait to find out. He did not want to alarm Deutch further. He knew that once he stepped out the door, he would be committed. He tugged at his inconspicuous tan pullovers, then reached for the simple zipper valise which contained most of his tools and his working smock. “I’m ready,” he said, putting a reassuring hand on Deutch’s arm.

“What about
her
?” Deutch said, scowling.

“Dr. Lebbreau is going to leave a little later. She has some minor chores to do here first.” He did not mention that those chores were to make sure the apartment wasn’t spied on or broken into while they were gone.

Deutch looked acutely embarrassed. “God, I hope we don’t get caught. I mean, they could lock us all up if we...”

“We’re not going to get caught,” Harry said more forcefully. “No one is going to keep an eye on us as long as they think you’re here.” And as long as Natalie took care of her safeguards.

“Yeah,” Deutch said, but without much conviction. “If Jeanie weren’t so sick...” He let the words trail off. “Dexter takes over at four. You’ll have to be back by then. He’ll check up on you.”

“We’ll be back by then,” Harry assured him, growing anxious now that Deutch might change his mind at the last minute.

“Well, you’ll have to.” Deutch still lingered by the door, a few last reservations holding him back.

“Come on, Deutch,” Harry said, making the words gentle. “Jeanie isn’t getting better while we stand here talking.” He strode past the guard into the hall. “Let’s go.”

Deutch made up his mind then. He nodded curtly and led the way out of the building into the soft April morning.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later when Natalie left the building. She had run a last check on her various safeguards and was confident that they would protect the apartment from anything less than full forceable entry. For her trip through the city she had dressed as nondescriptly as Harry, and had deliberately made herself even plainer than she was, choosing ill-fitting clothes in an unbecoming shade of mustard-yellow. Her hair was skinned back against her head and gathered into an unruly knot at the nape of her neck, which made her ears stick out, and she had painted her mouth a bright, ugly red that turned her complexion pasty under the freckles.

She waited a long time for a bus, much longer than she should have. When one finally arrived, she remarked on the lateness to the driver.

“It’s the flu,” he said, plainly harassed and fatigued. “We’re working on a reduced staff, lady. If you don’t like it, walk.”

She murmured something conciliatory, then made her way to a seat, alarmed at how few passengers were riding with her. The reason was soon obvious. During the short ride to the apartment block where Carol Mendosa lived, Natalie kept a sharp lookout for signs of trouble, and she found them everywhere. Stores, a few banks, one or two offices, she saw, had signs in the window:

CLOSED TEMPORARILY ON ACCOUNT OF ILLNESS

She knew that this was worse than it appeared. For every person staying home there were two at work, not quite sick enough to miss that one day’s pay, or that important appointment, or a chance to cash in on the competition’s misfortunes. And that meant the diseases were spreading, and spreading rapidly.

By the time she left the bus, she had a story all prepared to give Carol’s guard. So it was with the proper deference that she walked up to the man, saying, “Pardon me, officer,” in a still, meek voice. “Yes?” The man was older than Deutch, and, Natalie realized immediately, tougher.

“I’m Dr. Mendosa’s therapy assistant from Westbank?” She made it a question. “I don’t know if you were called... I have to talk to Dr. Mendosa.”

“Sorry.”

“But you don’t understand... Oh, dear, I knew I should have made sure you’d been phoned...” She gave him a bewildered smile, hating herself as she did. “But Mr. Clifford said that someone ... Dr. Justin’s assistant ...” She paused, hoping the names would sink in, then went on, still as if talking more to herself than the guard. “It’s such a bother, you’d think that Dr. Justin would make sure... And it
is
so important...”

“Dr. Justin sent you?” The officer cut into her monologue.

Natalie looked up, feigning confusion. “Dr. Justin? Dear me, no. His assistant, Mr. Clifford, told me that they need some information about a particular patient of Dr. Mendosa’s, you see.” She hoped he would not wonder why the hospital had not simply phoned Dr. Mendosa with the question.

“Maybe I’ll call this Dr. Justin,” the guard said, giving her the most of his overbearing presence.

“Oh,
would
you? It makes things so much easier, of course. I’m afraid to interrupt him myself, but I’m sure Mr. Clifford would...” She was sure that Mr. Clifford would have her arrested immediately if he knew what she was up to.

The guard smiled indulgently. “I guess you can go in. But don’t stay too long. This isn’t really within regulations.”

“Oh, I know,” Natalie said, letting one hand flutter nervously near her face. “When I think of all those doctors dismissed, and then this flu epidemic, well, I certainly wouldn’t want their consciences. I mean, when so many people in the city are sick, they’re at home doing nothing.”

The guard chuckled indulgently at her indignation and opened the door. “You tell Dr. Mendosa that.”

Natalie simpered at him and closed the door.

In a moment Carol Mendosa came in, puzzlement on her face quickly turning to surprise when she saw Natalie. “What on earth? How did you get here?” She dragged Natalie away from the hall. “What is it?” she asked when they were into the tiny living room. “You look furious.”