Джозеф Файндер - Extraordinary Powers

He must have seen the confusion in my face, for he continued: “This is a podere — an old farmhouse. My wife runs this as a guesthouse, the Podere Capra.”

“I don’t...” I tried to say. “How did I...?”

“You’re doing very well, considering what you’ve been through.”

I looked down at my bandaged arms, and looked back at the physician.

“You were very fortunate,” he said “You may have sustained some hearing loss. You suffered burns only on your arms, and you should be recovering quickly. The burns are not serious; very little skin has been burned, as you’ll see. You are a lucky man. Your clothes caught on fire, but they found you before the fire had a chance to do much damage to you.”

“The rats,” I said.

“No rabies or diseases or anything of the sort,” he reassured me. “You’ve been thoroughly tested. Our Tuscan rats are healthy specimens. The superficial bites have been treated and will heal very quickly. There may be slight scarring, but that’s all. I’ve put you on a morphine drip for pain relief, which is why you may feel as if you’re flying at times, yes?”

I nodded. It really was quite pleasant; there was no sensation of pain. I wanted to know exactly who he was, and how I had gotten there, but I was finding it difficult to articulate words, and I seemed to be overcome with an inertia.

“Gradually I’ll be reducing that. But now some friends of yours would like to pay a visit.”

He turned around and knocked lightly a few times on a small, rounded, wooden door. The door opened, and he excused himself.

I felt my throat begin to throb.

In a wheelchair, looking weary and diminished, was Toby Thompson. Standing beside him was Molly.

“Oh, God, Ben,” she said, and rushed toward me.

I had never seen her look so beautiful. She was wearing a brown tweed skirt, a white silk blouse, the strand of pearls I’d bought her at Shreve’s, and the good-luck gold cameo locket her father had given her.

We kissed for a long time.

She looked me over, her eyes full of tears. “I was — we were — so worried about you. My God, Ben.”

She took both of my hands.

“How did you two... get here?” I managed to say.

I heard the whir of Toby’s wheelchair as he approached.

“I’m afraid we got here a little late,” Molly said, squeezing both of my hands. The pain made me wince, and she drew her hands back suddenly. “I’m so sorry.”

“How are you feeling?” Toby asked. He was wearing a blue suit and a shiny pair of black orthopedic shoes. His white hair was combed neatly.

“We’ll see when they take me off the painkillers. Where am I?”

“Greve, in Chianti.”

“The doctor—”

“Massimo is entirely trustworthy,” Toby said. “We keep him on retainer — on occasion we need his medical services. Once in a great while we use Podere Capra as a safe house.”

Molly put a hand on my cheek, as if unable to believe I was really lying there before her. Now that I looked at her closely, I could see that she was exhausted, with deep circles under her bloodshot eyes she’d obviously taken pains to cover with makeup. But she looked beautiful despite it all. She was wearing Fracas, my favorite perfume; I found her, as always, irresistible.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she said.

“Me, too, babe.”

“You’ve never called me ‘babe’ before,” she marveled.

“Never too late,” I mumbled, “to learn a new term of endearment.”

“You never cease to impress me,” Toby said gravely. “I don’t know how you did it.”

“Did what?”

“How you managed to blow a hole in the side of that stone house. If you hadn’t done it, you’d probably be dead by now. Those guys were fully prepared to leave you there until you were eaten alive, or, more likely, died of fright. And certainly our people wouldn’t have known where to look for you if it weren’t for the explosion.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “How did you know where I was?”

“Let’s take this a step at a time,” Toby said. “We were able to trace your call from Siena in eight seconds.”

“ Eight? But I thought—”

“Our telecommunications technology has improved significantly since you left the business. You have the ability to ascertain that I’m telling you the truth, Ben. I’ll move this damned chair closer if you like.”

For the time being, his assurance was enough; in any case, even if I’d wanted to, I was too woozy to focus my mind.

“As soon as we got a lock on where you were from the phone trace in Siena, we were able to get out here.”

“Thank God,” Molly said. She continued to hold my hands, as if I would slip away from her if she didn’t.

“I immediately secured Molly’s release, and she and I flew into Milan, accompanied by a few fellows from security. Just in time, I might say.” He smacked the arms of his wheelchair. “Not too easy, in one of these. Italy doesn’t have much in the way of handicapped ramps. In any case, we had a good warning system in place. Have I told you that if you place even a single tiny drop of water at the entrance to an ant nest—”

I groaned. “Spare me the ants, Toby. I don’t have the strength.”

But he continued, ignoring my interruption: “—the worker ants will run through the nest, making alarm runs, warning of a possible imminent flood, even pointing out emergency exits. In less than half a minute a colony will begin to evacuate the nest.”

“Fascinating,” I said without much conviction.

“Forgive me, Ben. I do get carried away. In any event, your wife has been supervising Dr. Boldoni rather closely, making sure you get the best treatment.”

I turned to Molly. “I want the truth, Mol. How badly wounded am I?”

She smiled sadly, yet encouragingly. Tears still shone in her eyes. “You’ll be fine, Ben. Really, you will. I don’t want you to worry.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“You’ve got first- and second-degree burns on your arms,” she said. “It’s going to be painful, but not serious. No more than maybe fifteen percent of your body.”

“If it’s not serious, why am I rigged up to all this stuff?” I noticed for the first time that some peculiar bandage, affixed to the end of my index finger, was glowing red, like the extraterrestrial in E.T. I held it up. “What the hell is this?”

“That’s a pulse oximeter. The red glow is a laser beam. It measures your oxygen saturation, which is maintaining at ninety-seven percent. Your heart rate is a little up, around one hundred, which is to be expected.

“Ben, you sustained a mild concussion during the explosion. Dr. Boldoni suspected inhalation burns from the fire, which could have been trouble — your trachea can swell, and you can die, if you’re not watched carefully. You were coughing up some stuff — he was afraid it was charred pieces of your own trachea. But I took a good look — it was only soot, thank God. We’ve ruled out inhalation burns, but there is some smoke inhalation.”

“So what’s the treatment, Doc?”

“We’ve got you on IV fluids. D-5 one-half normal saline. With twenty of K at two hundred an hour.”

“English, please.”

“Sorry, that’s potassium. I wanted to make sure to hydrate you well, give you plenty of fluids. You’re going to have to have dressing changes every day. That white goop you can see under the bandages is Silvidene ointment.”

“You’re lucky to have your own personal physician accompanying you,” Toby said.

“Plus, you’ll need plenty of bed rest,” she concluded. “So I’ve brought you some reading material.” She presented a handful of magazines. Atop the pile was a Time magazine cover which featured a close-up photograph of Alexander Truslow. He looked good, vigorous, although the photographer seemed to have made a point of emphasizing the pouches beneath his eyes. THE CIA IN CRISIS, the cover line read, and underneath that: A NEW ERA?