They reached the door. A doorman opened it for them. In the lobby a balding, distinguished-looking man wearing glasses and dressed in a suit and dress shirt, but no tie, came toward them.
"Welcome, Dr. Banaz, Mr. Newman." He greeted them in English. "I am Dr. Mansori."
Fahimah realized that Ashraf had called and made all these arrangements. She wondered if Austyn minded that this man knew his real name. He didn't seem to as he shook his hand.
Dr. Mansori was the director of the hospital. Fahimah knew Austyn had been surprised by what he'd seen in Halabja, but he betrayed no surprise with anything that was happening here. Dr. Mansori was in charge of the hospital, and yet he was a working physician, visible and available day to day. And he spoke excellent English.
"We're so glad you have come," Mansori said, speaking directly to her. "Since they brought your sister here a week ago, she has declined steadily. I believe she knows it is her time, but she is trying to make life easier for all those around her."
Fahimah willed herself not to cry, to stay strong. "Is she heavily sedated?"
"She was," Dr. Mansori told her, "until I received the call from Halabja last night. We have cut the morphine. She is in pain, but when I saw her an hour ago, she was gaining consciousness, recognizing people around her. She would want it this way… to see you."
"Does she know I'm coming?" Fahimah asked.
The physician nodded. "I told her this morning." Behind the thick glasses, his eyes were welling with tears. "I have known and worked with your sister on many different occasions over the past few years. Frequently, she has contacted me to accept patients that she felt needed to be hospitalized from the refugee camps. I do not know if you have heard the nickname the people have for her."
Fahimah nodded. "Firishte… the angel."
"And she truly is an angel." Dr. Mansori smiled. "I must tell you, though, that I have never seen your sister as happy as today, when I told her you were coming."
Fahimah's eyes burned with unshed tears. "Will you take me to her?"
The doctor stretched a hand in the direction that they should go. He led them up a set of stairs. Austyn and Dr. Mansori talked, but Fahimah didn't hear a word of their exchange. She was lost in a different time.
Two girls, holding each other in their mother's kitchen, staring out over the body of their father at the sea of dead friends and neighbors on their street.
She and Rahaf were two lonely souls who only had each other left. This had been the story of their life. Only fifteen months apart, they were each other's shadow, each other's soul. There were two hearts in their bodies but they pulsed as one.
'This is it, khanoom."
Rahaf's door was open. Two people and a nurse who were inside saw Fahimah and quickly came out. They each said something kind to her as they passed, but again she couldn't hear.
Fahimah stepped through the doorway. She looked at the bed, and her tears began to fall.
Rahaf lay on the high hospital bed. She, who had once been so young and vibrant and full of health, was now a mere skeleton. The missing leg created a void that was visible under the smooth white blanket. Her green eyes tried to focus as she lifted her hand.
"Fahimah?"
She didn't remember taking the steps, but she was there, next to her sister, holding her in her arms.
They'd spent a lifetime apart, but they were one again.
Chapter Forty-Five
Cell phone lines were jammed. Some of the regular telephone exchanges seemed to be working, but it was hit and miss.
Finally, David got through on an 800-number for Homeland Security in Washington. Could he speak to Faas Hanlon? He was unavailable. Was the next person in charge of the NFI investigation available? No, no one else in charge of that investigation was available, either.
"There's got to be someone there to talk to. I have critical information about the situation."
"Mr. Link, we have no one available to talk to you right now, but if I could take a number where you can be reached, an agent connected with the investigation will get back to you."
"I've been doing just that at a number of places over the past two hours, and no one has called me back yet."
David was disgusted. 'Tine, let me leave a message for Faas Hanlon."
He had been right about the e-mail, at least. Both of his daughters e-mailed him back within an hour. They wanted to know what the heck was going on… and yes, they still had the Strep-Testers.
The company-wide e-mail he'd sent out was creating some questions. But no one was jumping in and offering anything useful. Both Bill and Ned Reynolds had their "I am away" messages on, and the VP of Sales hadn't opened his e-mail yet, either.
His secretary had e-mailed him that she was making the calls to the sales force, but that she wasn't able to get through to a lot of them because of clogged phone lines.
He decided that leaving a message for Faas Hanlon wasn't enough.
David e-mailed and then phoned the White House. He couldn't get through. He e-mailed the FBI. He was getting to be a master at it. The same text was copied and pasted in each e-mail. Name, phone number where he could be reached, the company he worked for, identifying himself as a survivor, so far, of the NFI research boat incident, indicating that he has information that might tie the source of the infection to new sample Strep-Testers that his company had released.
One of the residents came out in the hallway, and David pounced on him.
"The nurses are becoming very concerned about your behavior, Mr. Link," the young man told him.
"Good," David said, frustrated. "Call Security. Call the police. Call the FBI."
"We can't do any of those things right now." He started into a long speech about the procedures for the quarantining of the patients.
David cut him off. "I'm trying to give you information that could save thousands of lives. I work for the company that makes a new product, over-the-counter home Strep-Testers."
"Oh, I've heard of them. That's an interesting idea. But they haven't hit the market yet, have they?"
"Five hundred of them are in circulation. And there are ten thousand that are going to be distributed this morning. .unless we can stop it," David said, trying to keep any hint of fanaticism out of his voice. "I believe the Strep-Testers are causing the infections."
"And why do you think that?" he asked too casually, sending David's blood pressure a notch or two higher.
"Four of our sales people who had these samples had a death in the family from NFI," David told him, exaggerating a little. He wasn't certain for two of the cases, but he decided it was a safe assumption. "They might have used these testers."
"They might have," the resident repeated doubtfully. "Are you sure they used them?"
"I'm pretty sure they did. I know that Philip Carver, the program director on our ship, used one, because I gave it to him."
"You know, sir, every investigator in this country is working on this disease. Don't you think they would have found that information, if it were a common link? And that's only four or five cases out of how many? I've lost count of the total number of fatalities. What about the rest?"
"Yes, you're right—" David looked at the resident's badge " — Dr. Niles. You're right to be dubious. But don't you think this information needs to be brought to someone's attention?"
"Have you called the FBI… or the police department?"
David told him about all the phone calls and e-mails he'd sent.
The young doctor shrugged. "Sounds like you've done everything you should be doing. I don't know what else to tell you. But I still think it's highly unlikely that your theory is correct, since your company had to go through all kinds of testing with the FDA to get the product approved. If there was any question about the tester's safety, don't you think it would have shown up then?"