“Or he’ll blame Dr. Lebedev.”
Messonier exchanged a sharp look with him. “Now we have a battle ahead of us around the table and only weak tea to accompany it. I wish you well with your proposal, Baron.”
“It’s a death parade in the conference room.”
The hospital staff meetings were dreaded, as there was always a sense of uncertainty and, underneath it, fear. One doctor after another reported their unsuccessful attempts to save lives and the steadily increasing number of patient deaths. Their failures. It was as if a clock silently ticked away during the meeting. Many theories, hunches, and observations about the patients’ treatment were debated. One sick child had no fever but a cough. Treated with morphia, his condition slightly improved. Was this a possible solution? Yesterday a young woman’s prognosis seemed promising and it was hoped she’d be the first to survive the plague. But a few hours later she was dead. Scores of new patients were admitted every day but died so quickly that the numbers remained at the same level.
The Baron and Messonier greeted Mesny and Zabolotny, followed them into the conference room. We’re pallbearers, thought the Baron. Dr. Wu, Dr. Iasienski, and General Khorvat were already seated at the table.
Dr. Wu opened the meeting by focusing on what was known about the various stages of infection. “One of the unusual effects is that patients appear fairly healthy, with only a slightly elevated temperature and cough, until the rapid onset of catastrophic symptoms, quickly followed by death. We now can estimate the incubation period, the time between exposure to the bacilli and symptoms, at three to five days. Exposure could come from an infected person, animal, an object. A bite from an infected flea. A contaminated blanket or room. Nothing and no source can be ruled out at this point.”
“Rats are being eradicated all over the city under General Khorvat’s highly successful bounty program.” Zabolotny gestured at Khorvat, seated at the head of the table with Wu and his translator.
Khorvat acknowledged his praise. “The latest tally reported nearly five thousand dead rats have been collected. There’s great progress conquering the vermin problem. The streets will be made safe.”
“The effectiveness of the extermination will be demonstrated by a decline in the number of cases.”
Iasienski was increasingly impatient. “There’s another important issue to discuss. What procedure is in place for burying plague corpses?”
Wu’s response was immediate. “The dead won’t be returned to their families. It’s a risk to move corpses around the city. They’re infectious.”
“A field outside the city has been marked as a common grave,” Khorvat said. “A few rat hunters have been recruited to drive corpses to the field.”
“It’s fine to bury the corpses,” Mesny said, “but we need blood. We need tissue and samples from infected lungs and the lymphatic glands. Scrapings from the mucosa of the bronchi should be examined. We must autopsy corpses to determine how bacilli act.”
“Autopsies are against Chinese tradition. Opening up a body is prohibited. But Dr. Wu certainly has more knowledge than I do.” The Baron turned to assess Wu’s reaction and watched him glance at Zabolotny.
Several doctors were obviously relieved that Wu ignored the Baron and allowed his comment to pass.
Then Zabolotny widened his eyes in mock astonishment. “No autopsies? We risk our lives for this epidemic and we’re stopped by a quaint custom? What century is this?”
The Baron placed his hands on the table as a platform for his words. “Unlike Western medicine, Chinese medical practice doesn’t rely on autopsies. There’s no history of autopsy in China, so you can understand why it isn’t accepted. Their conception of the body is entirely foreign to us. It’s truly unimaginable. That’s not to say it has no basis in fact. The Chinese have had an established system of medicine for a thousand years.”
Mesny jumped in. “I welcome your lesson about Chinese medicine, but we’re here to stop an epidemic with our medicine. The Chinese have a proven history of failure with epidemics.”
“I’ll remind you, Dr. Mesny, that we have no cure for the plague,” the Baron said.
“Dr. Haffkine reports great progress with his serum.”
The Baron didn’t take Mesny’s bait. “On the street, they say the bodies of dead Chinese are harvested to make medicine for Russians. Any Chinese who suspected their bodies would be eviscerated after death would refuse treatment in our hospital. This also relates to their religious beliefs. Without rites and a proper burial, they’re condemned in the afterlife. We’re all familiar with the concept of eternal damnation. We cannot solve this epidemic without their cooperation. There could be violence.”
Mesny dismissed his words. “Then we’d better cozy up to the Japanese for protection.”
“You joke, but the Chinese vastly outnumber Russians in Kharbin. Only a few years ago, Chinese mobs killed foreigners during the Boxer Rebellion. I hid in the woods for three days—” Messonier was interrupted.
With a gesture, Khorvat swept him aside. “Let’s finish the meeting. Time is wasting. It’s unlikely the Chinese will kill Russian doctors. Imagine how that would look to the world. They will lose face. China already struggles with foreign criticism, since no one believes they can manage the epidemic without international aid. That’s why doctors were brought in from several countries. Remember, the only hospitals in China were built by missionaries. That said, the Chinese look for any excuse to rid this place of Russians. This talk of harvesting Chinese bodies could incite protest. There aren’t enough Russian soldiers to contain hundreds of rioters. The situation is volatile.”
Khorvat’s point had a sobering effect. Messonier said the general’s warning should be respected.
But Mesny had burned through his patience. “So we accept these ridiculous restrictions about autopsies? I strongly protest. How would the Chinese even discover the autopsies?” His eyes were on the Baron and Wu.
“Now that I’ve heard everyone’s opinion, the best strategy is to petition the Imperial Throne for permission to conduct autopsies.” The disdain in Wu’s voice was apparent.
“The Chinese government will never support your request to violate their own traditions.” Mesny’s voice was querulous. “You like to gamble, Dr. Wu. If permission is denied, what will you do? Resign?”
Wu’s reaction was barely perceptible. “I’m confident the Imperial Throne will accept my petition.”
“Let’s hope their answer will be swift.”
Wu continued as if Mesny hadn’t spoken. “Once the Imperial Throne gives permission, unidentified corpses will be autopsied in secret to avoid alarming the Chinese.”
“Do you truly believe autopsies can be kept secret? We’ll be acting like murderers, trying to hide the mutilated corpses. No, the solution is obvious.” The Baron controlled his voice in spite of his anger. “It’s unethical to autopsy Chinese corpses. So we’ll autopsy Russian corpses.” Messonier flashed a grin as Khorvat pushed back his chair and called for order over the angry voices.
The Baron kept talking, refusing to be shouted down. “We need to work with Chinese patients and doctors.” Even before he’d finished his sentence, he sensed their disapproval but continued. “Who knows where the cure for plague will be found? Perhaps the Chinese already possess it.” He was breathless.
“I disagree.” Wu’s voice was cold. “Chinese doctors practice folklore, not medicine. They would undermine our work at the hospital. One of their treatments for plague is to wrap a chip of horse bone in red cloth and wear it in a small bag around the neck.”