Chapter Four
Victor slowly rotated as he moved through a vast space. There was no dimension, no depth, no width, there was no end to the endless sea through which he plunged. He lay suspended between reality and hallucination, between dream and nightmare. The man felt cold, hot, then cold again as he shivered, sweated, and then shivered again. There was no difference between earth and sky; both elements blended into one, like a hideous Hieronymus landscape which so well defined the final judgment. His head ached; his lungs labored for air; blood poured out of his body; faces from his past, at times contorted, at times amorphous, at times animated, at times maimed flashed in front of his eyes; colored lights streaked past diffused, murky and nebulous; ghastly forms surfaced from hell, shook their bony fingers at him while waving him forward; White Ladies of Normandy smiled and cackled their hideous laughter; the Weird Sisters rejoiced in their Danse Macabre; the Flying Dutchman moved past in stately splendor. Victor decided to follow him into Nirvana, but a restraining handheld him back.
The man now faced a new enemy. Sepulchral voices replaced the grotesque monsters and intoned his name. He replied, certain that he would find peace at last. Suddenly, new faces appeared with pointy noses, sharp claws, and gave out sharp, squealing noises. They circled around him, nibbled at his arms and legs, scrambled over his chest and, when they reached his face, Victor screamed, flailed his arms about him and screamed again. He threw his arms into the air, desperately trying to rid himself of the apparitions. The man felt himself falling, became enmeshed in an impenetrable web of dark threads that held him fast, surrounded by the rodents that showed no sign of letting go. .
He bolted upright, stared into space, his eyes blank and wide open. Words spewed out of his mouth in an outlandish gibberish as he moved his arms about himself.
“Get away from me, you little devils. Patrizia, you promised to watch over me. Why have you forsaken me? Where are the firefighters? Why don’t they get here. I’m all alone with those monsters. Sandra, where the hell are you? Oh, you hellhounds. Antonia, you are my last hope. If you don’t help me, I’m lost. I hurt. I’m tired.”
He fell back, continued his descent into madness. A cool hand guided him to a safe landing. Victor did not care where he was. He only knew he was safe. He opened his eyes, saw unfamiliar faces. Victor groaned, thrashed his arms in the air in a futile gesture and fell through space again.
Doctor Victor Cranston slowly and timidly opened his eyes, stared around him with a wondering look. He realized he was in a hospital bed when he spotted white uniforms hovering around him and whispering. No one had as yet noticed his awakening, so he lay back and observed. There was a male doctor talking to a female doctor or nurse in a strange language, along with someone who was not dressed in white; the fourth member of the group was the one he focused upon. She was a child, a young girl exactly. She was listening to the discussion, her wide-open dark eyes missing nothing.
The man smiled. He willed her to look at him. When she did, his smile broadened into what Milton described as “laughter holding both his sides’.
The child screamed one word, “Daddy!”
She propelled herself out of the chair at the speed of light and landed on the patient’s chest. Victor placed his arms around the girl as both father and daughter broke into deep sobs. The woman in civilian clothes walked over and enfolded both of them in a deep embrace.
“You gave us quite a fright, Victor,” exclaimed Sandra as all stood around the bed observing another miracle.
It was dinner time and Victor was having his first full meal in four days.
“So, tell me, Sandra, what happened after I passed out. How did I get here? Where’s General Wu?”
“We blew a hole in the rubble and pulled you out. Soldiers burned the nest you had disturbed. Your protective suit was in shreds as the rats did a good job on you. The General had already radioed the Russians, so they dispatched a helicopter that got you here in record time. The penicillin saved your life.”
“How long was I out?”
“You were out three days, clear out of your head. You had a bad time of it. Doctor McDowell has suggested a long vacation.”
“Where’s the General?”
“He stayed behind to check out the demolition of every cave in the area. He’ll be along shortly. He’s a good man, Vic.
By the way Antonia did not leave you all that time. You have the makings of an exceptional daughter.”
“What are your plans?”
“I’m returning to Beijing on tomorrow’s courier plane. I have work to do, unlike some people who just travel around the world.”
Victor laughed.
“I’ll be buying you a steak as soon as I’m able. Thanks for saving my life. By the way who pulled my shredded suit off me and bathed my wounds?”
Sandra bent down and kissed the doctor.
She whispered. “I’ll never tell. You need a shave and a bath. See you soon, Victor.”
New York City: Early October 1995
It will be a bad autumn, Victor Cranston mused, as he sat in his favorite chair and surveyed the Jersey Palisades across the Hudson River while sipping his favorite brandy and listening to the popular musician, Yanni. He had not heard him in a long time. He felt at peace with himself, something he had not tasted for a long time. It was good to be back home, to have renewed old acquaintances, to have visited old ‘hangouts’, to have seen old friends. His mind drifted back to his departure from Mongolia. He savored every moment of it.
The most difficult aspect of leave-taking was to watch his daughter say good-bye to the young hospital patients, children whom she had befriended through the long summer in ways that had amazed and delighted the staff and himself. She had been quite indispensable through her natural nurturing ways. Now, as she solemnly explained with a serious face to uncomprehending but curious round-faced young Mongolians, it was time for her to go home and begin her schooling which had been delayed due to her father’s proclivity for adventuring. They might not have understood the words, but they certainly understood and delighted in the hugs she gave everyone she encountered.
The American doctors who had been a part of the organization called Medicine for Humanity had left at the end of July, as had Doctor McDowell, so Victor was the last American at the hospital. He was still recovering from the battle with the rodents in which he had come close to losing his life. Nightmares came and went, sometimes leaving him sweaty and shaky. But he knew in time the whole event would disappear from his mind. He felt sad leaving his trainees and friends. Five members of the staff were already on their way to New York where they would be guests of his institute for one year. Victor knew that one day he would come back to this country.
The grandparents had been loath to leave also, but they had understood the need. Victor had pacified them by agreeing on a stop in Beijing. By a strange coincidence that delay had dove-tailed with his own plans. There was a certain lady who was waiting for him. He was eager to see her along with his Chinese friend, General Wu.
Victor had no idea who had summoned his old friends to JFK airport. They were all there: Little Augie, Ethel, Lyn, the Douglas family, Lawrence Williams, his own sister, Anna, the Russian Sergeant, Karp Markov, and his mother[4]. It had been one hell of a lunch!
Now he sat still and reviewed his life. He had to decide on something. At this point he needed a rest, a vacation so he could put things in proper perspective, place his finances in order, check on his brain research institute. He could not drift along forever. Victor’s mind dwelt on the events that had shaped his life for the past ten years or so. There had been his decision to serve in Afghanistan where he had turned into a warrior, getting mixed up with the Russians in firefights, facilitating a prison break and finally blowing up a bridge which he always believed hastened the Russian withdrawal from that country. Then had come his brief interlude with the Albanian doctor whom he had lost to a Texas cowboy. He had no regrets there; she had found happiness.
His involvement with Marissa Mansfield had been a turbulent affair that began on a note of deep hostility but had blossomed into a wonderful relationship until—until he had been Quixotic and had rescued the woman’s husband from Western China. In the aftermath he had teamed with a British ex-agent and the Chinese, General Wu, to destroy the last of the great master criminals, Kang Sheng, a renegade Chinese Communist. He sighed as he contemplated his next move. He had to do something about his daughter’s education. The doctor hated to part from her since she reminded him so much of his dead wife, the girl’s mother. Anna had consented to spending another year at home-schooling and no more. That decision bought Victor some time. He knew of the serious feelings between her and the Russian. All that was well and good. Another name popped into his mind—Sandra Davidson, the Embassy Public Affairs officer who had been an integral part of his last two operations. He well remembered their last conversation.
“Victor, what do you intend to do about us?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are going back home and I’m staying here. Will we meet again? I can no longer afford or desire fly-by-night relationships. I’ll miss you but I must get on with my life. You do understand.”
“Yes, I do. I’ll miss you also. To be truthful, I don’t really know how my life will shape up. I have to make decisions, but there’s no way of predicting the future. When my wife died, I died also. Then I met someone but, unfortunately, the relationship did not turn out very well. You came in and out of my life at odd moments. I must find time to sort things out. I’ll always tell you the truth, no matter what the result. Get on with your life by all means. Are you thinking of a career change?”
“Not really. I have been in the Diplomatic Service for close to sixteen years. I have enjoyed the time.” She had stopped talking. Suddenly she had thrown her arms around him and said, “Oh, Victor, at times the loneliness is unbearable. I’m always in alien cultures that are so unlike our own. Until you came along, I never knew what it was to be a real woman. Promise me you’ll keep in touch.”
“I certainly will. I had no intention of ignoring you.”
What was he to do about her? Did he love her? He did not know. Should he continue the relationship? He did not know that either. Victor knew of the girl’s feelings for him. Could he reciprocate? The important question was, should he reciprocate? He concentrated on one important question. Where would he go after this adventure? What would he do? Could he go back to a mundane world, to the operating room, to a medical practice dealing with head colds and fallen arches? He felt troubled as he searched for answers.
He resigned himself to a sedentary existence, replete with lectures, board meetings, volunteer medical work and occasional travel. Victor made up his mind on one thing, however. Sometime soon he would have to call on his old friends, Sean and Marissa O’Rourke.
Doctor Victor Cranston, a throwback to the knights errant and the romantic soldiers of fortune, was never more wrong in his life. Fate would once again bring him out of his presumed destiny and hurl him into the cauldron of international politics and power struggles taking shape around the world.
[4]See: The Chinese Connection
