“As I suspected.” The doctor seemed pleased with the validation of his premonition. “The dye we injected into your bloodstream allowed us to take a peek at your macula.” He handed Silver a pamphlet titled Age-related Macular Degeneration. “Your blotch is caused by AMD, which could be exacerbated by the accident last night.” Dr. Pablo led Professor Silver to a poster on the wall that showed the human eye. “In the front,” he said, pointing, “you have the cornea. When you look at something, the picture passes through the pupil and lens and reflects on the back of your eye, where the optic nerve transmits it to your brain. The macula is this small area.” His finger moved to the back of the eye. “Right in front of the optic nerve. It’s responsible for the most acute vision.”
“The center,” Silver said, “where I have a blotch.”
“It’s the beginning. Eventually, the whole center will disappear.” Dr. Pablo’s hands drew a large circle in the air. “Wet AMD appears as tiny bleeding in the retina, causing opaque deposits and scar tissue, and it’s progressive.” Dr. Pablo scribbled on a prescription pad, tore off the page, and handed it to Silver. “That’s for the police. They’ll let you drive for thirty days.”
“Why only thirty days?”
“I don’t want to get sued when you run over some kid on the street. You better prepare.” He patted the pamphlet. “Life’s about to change.”
“What’s the treatment?”
“Photocoagulation. A laser surgery, which I’ll perform. You have Medicare, yes?”
“I am self-insured.”
“It’ll cost more than twelve thousand dollars.”
Silver was shocked by the amount. “I can pay. I need my vision.”
“Vision is a relative term.” Dr. Pablo looked at the eye diagram on the wall, as if noticing something new on it. “I don’t want you to entertain false hopes. Photocoagulation is the lesser of two evils. Your vision will actually be much worse after the procedure.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If we let it progress, AMD will deprive you of all your vision. To preempt that, I will photocoagulate your central vision to save your peripheral vision, so you have basic functionality.”
Silver sat down, feeling weak. “How basic?”
“Imagine you’re holding a basketball in front of your eye. The ball hides most of the room, but you can still see a margin around it-a bit of the floor, so you can take a step, a little on the right and the left, so you can pass through a doorway, a bit of the sky, so you know if it’s going to rain. Your other senses, touch and sound, will help you form habits, get around the house, take care of personal hygiene, make a cup of coffee. You’ll be functioning on a basic level. Lots of people are legally blind.”
“No! I can’t go blind!” Silver raised his voice more than he had intended.
“I’m sorry, Professor, to be the bearer of bad news, but your right eye has done the work of two for a long time. It’s tired.”
“And if I don’t do anything?”
“Maybe a couple of months, before it’s too late.” Dr. Pablo closed the file. “The nurse will schedule the procedure for next week. At your age, we’ll keep you in the clinic for a few hours, make sure you’re okay before going home. Can your wife drive?”
“My wife died many years ago.”
“Your children?”
It was becoming too personal for Silver. “My only son is also dead. But I have friends at the synagogue.”
“Good. Very good.” The doctor headed for the door. “I’ll see you next week.”
Masada hiked up the mountain with ferocious determination, ignoring the pain in her knee. Colonel Ness’s show replayed in her mind, ending with his empty threat. She stopped to drink from her water bottle. He wouldn’t booby trap her car. It wasn’t something the Israelis would do to anyone but Arab terrorists with blood on their hands.
Yet as she continued hiking, it nagged at her. The Corvette had been left at the resort parking lot all night. Could Rabbi Josh be in danger?
Masada turned and ran down the trail, keeping her eyes on the uneven dirt and protruding rocks. The bandage was getting loose under the knee brace, rubbing the fresh scab. She ignored it, imagining Rabbi Josh in her car, turning the key.
She ran faster, chased by the image of his flesh on fire, teeth bared in a deathly grin. Why did I let him get my car? Why did I invite him to the award ceremony? Why in the world had I allowed him into my life? Into my bad luck?
Raul watched the technicians remove the wheels while Rabbi Josh went to pay for the new tires. When he returned, a young Hispanic was showing Raul a machine that pressed inflated tires into a water tub to check for leaks.
Moments later, the Corvette was ready. Rabbi Josh got in, stretching his legs under the steering wheel. Masada’s seat was far enough back to accommodate his height. His hand went to the ignition, but the key wasn’t there.
“Raul?”
The boy waved at the technician and ran over.
Rabbi Josh put out an open hand. “The keys, young man.”
Raul held a fist to his chest. “I want to start it.”
He grabbed Raul’s hand and tried to pry open his fingers, but the boy collapsed in laughter and wriggled free. He stepped back from the Corvette and dangled the keys, chanting, “You can’t get me. You can’t get me.”
Rabbi Josh considered the effort involved in getting out of the sports car and chasing the boy. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll do it together.”
Raul squeezed between the steering wheel and his father, who planted a ringing kiss on the boy’s cheek. “Yuk!” Raul tilted his head to his shoulder. “No kisses!”
“Okay.” Rabbi Josh noticed a half-circle of idle technicians around the hood, watching them. “Insert the key and turn it clockwise, like this.”
Raul leaned sideways to see where his hand was going. He inserted the key and turned it.
Professor Silver left Dr. Pablo’s office in a state of shock. Blind! He found Al Zonshine snoring in his white Ford van and knocked on the tinted windows. Startled, Al rubbed his puffy eyes. “What did he say?”
“I have eyes like an eagle,” Silver lied, shaking the paper in his hand. “Let’s go to the police station so I can retrieve my license.”
With his extended beer belly busting out of a stained T-shirt, Al Zonshine looked nothing like the rest of the congregants at Temple Zion. His sparse hair formed an unkempt horseshoe, and his shortness of breath caused him to keep his mouth constantly open, exposing large, yellow teeth. But identifying Al’s mental weakness had been Professor Silver’s real break. The retired plumber’s rough belligerence hid instinctive obedience, rooted in his Vietnam-era service. His soldier’s spirit had been easily awakened by Silver’s invitation to join a clandestine operation “in the service of Israel.”
At the police station on Lincoln Drive, Silver showed Dr. Pablo’s note and recovered his Toronto-issued driver’s license. Al drove him to the Avis office on Scottsdale Road, where another rental Cadillac was waiting.
Back at his house, with both vehicles parked inside the garage, Professor Silver turned on the radio in the living room, increasing the volume until it hurt his ears. He led the way down to the basement, shut the door, and rolled two joints.
“Going strong.” Al blew a ring into the air. “I’m sharp, like I’m nineteen again. Boot camp sharp. Everything so real, ever since I flushed those psycho drugs down the toilet.” He knuckled his forehead. “Ticking like clockwork!”
“Didn’t I tell you? Never trust those shrinks.”
“Fog’s gone from my head. Pain’s gone from my chest too.” Al grinned, smoke drifting between his teeth. He killed his cigarette in a Coke can.
“You watched Masada’s house last night?”
The snorting was uttered with the head tilted back. “Reconnaissance’s my specialty. FBI and police were already there when the bitch showed up on foot, all messed up.”