The Babylonian Mask

Chapter 15 — Bad Medicine

Sister Barken sat on the thick leather of the vintage office chair with her elbows resting on her knees. Under the monotonous buzz of the luminescent light her hands cradled the sides of her head as she listened to the administrator’s account of Dr. Hilt’s demise. The stout nursing sister wept for the doctor she had known for barely seven months. She had not gotten along smoothly with him, but she was a compassionate woman who truly felt sorry about the man’s death.

“The funeral is tomorrow,” the administrator said before she left the office.

“I saw this on the news, you know, about the murders. Dr. Fritz told me not to come in unnecessarily. He did not want me to be in danger too,” she told her subordinate, Nurse Marx. “Marlene, you must ask for a transfer. I cannot stand worrying about you every time I’m off duty.”

“Don’t worry about me, Sister Barken,” Marlene Marx smiled, passing her one of the cups of instant soup she’d prepared. “I think whoever did this must have had a specific reason, you know? Like a target that was already here.”

“You don’t think…?” Sister Barken gawked at Nurse Marx.

“Dr. Gould,” Nurse Marx affirmed the Sister’s fears. “I think it was someone who wanted to kidnap her and now that they have taken her,” she shrugged, “the danger to staff and patients is gone. I mean, I bet the poor people who died only met their end because they got in the killer’s way, you know? They probably tried to stop him.”

“I understand that theory, sweetheart, but why then is the ‘Sam’ patient also missing?” asked Sister Barken. By the look on Marlene’s face she could see that the young nurse had not yet thought of that. In silence she sipped her soup.

“So sad that he took Dr. Gould, though,” Marlene lamented. “She had been very ill and her eyes were only getting worse, poor woman. On another note, my mother was furious when she heard about Dr. Gould’s abduction. She was angry that all this time was right here in my care I didn’t tell her.”

“Oh boy,” Sister Barken empathized with her. “She must have given you hell. I’ve seen that woman upset and she scares even me.”

The two dared to have a giggle in this bleak situation. Dr. Fritz entered the Third Floor nurse’s office with a folder under his arm. His face was serious, halting their meager joviality instantly. Something that resembled sorrow or disappointment shown in his eyes as he made himself a cup of coffee.

“Guten Morgen, Dr. Fritz,” the young nurse said to break the awkward silence.

He didn’t answer her. Sister Barken was surprised at his rudeness and used her authoritarian voice to shake the man to a measure of decency with the same greeting, only a few decibels louder. Dr. Fritz jumped around, jolted from his comatose state of thought.

“Oh, I’m sorry, ladies,” he gasped. “Good morning. Good morning,” he nodded to each, wiping his sweaty palm on his coat before stirring his coffee.

It was very unlike Dr. Fritz to act this way. To most women who encountered him, he was Germany’s medical field’s answer to George Clooney. His confident charm was his power, only trumped by his medical prowess. Yet here he stood in the humble Third Floor office with sweaty palms and an apologetic disposition that baffled both ladies.

Sister Barken and Nurse Marx quietly exchanged frowns before the robust veteran stood up to wash her cup. “Dr. Fritz, what has upset you? Nurse Marx and I volunteer to find whoever upset you and treat them to a free barium enema with some of my special Chai tea…straight from the pot!”

Nurse Marx could not help but choke on her soup from unexpected laughter, although she was not sure how the doctor would react. Her wide eyes stared stiffly at her superior’s in an imperceptible reprimand as her jaw hung open in amusement. Sister Barken was unperturbed. She was very comfortable using humor to elicit information, even personal and highly emotional information.

Dr. Fritz smiled and shook his head. He enjoyed the approach, although what he was harboring was by no means worthy of a jest.

“Much as I appreciate the valiant gesture, Sister Barken, my distress is not caused by a person as much as by a person’s fate,” he said in his most civilized tone.

“May I inquire of whom?” Sister Barken pried.

“Actually, I insist,” he replied. “Both of you treated Dr. Gould, so it would be more than appropriate for you to know the results of Nina’s tests.”

Both of Marlene’s hands lifted silently to her face, covering her mouth and nose in a gesture of anticipation. Sister Barken understood Nurse Marx’s reaction, as she herself did not feel too positive about the news. Besides, if it had Dr. Fritz in a bubble of quiet ignorance to the world it had to be hefty.

“It is a setback, especially after she had been healing so rapidly at first,” he started, tightening his grip on the file. “The tests show a significant deterioration in her blood work. Cellular damage was too severe for the time it took for her to be admitted for treatment.”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Marlene whined in her hands. Tears filled her eyes, but Sister Barken’s face remained in the expression she was trained to receive bad news.

Blank.

“What kind of level are we looking at?” Sister Barken asked.

“Well, her intestines and lungs seem to be bearing the brunt of the developing cancer, but there is also clear indication that she had suffered some minute neurological damage that is probably the cause of her deteriorating eye sight, Sister Barken. She was only tested, so I will not be able to make a definite diagnosis until I get to examine her again.”

In the background, Nurse Marx was whimpering softly at the news, but she tried her best to compose herself and not allow a patient to influence her so personally. She knew it was not professional to cry over a patient, but this was not just any patient. It was Dr. Nina Gould, her inspiration and an acquaintance she had a very soft spot for.

“I just hope we can find her soon, so that we can bring her back in before it gets any worse than it has to be. We simply cannot just discard hope like this, even though,” he said as he looked down at the young, crying nurse, “it’s pretty hard to stay positive.”

“Dr. Fritz, the German Air Force Commander is sending a man to interview you sometime today,” Dr. Fritz’s assistant announced from the doorway. She did not have time to ask why Nurse Marx was in tears, as she was in a hurry to return to the small office of Dr. Fritz that she was in charge of.

“Who?” he asked, confidence returned.

“He says his name is Werner. Dieter Werner from the public office of the German Air Force. It’s regarding the burn victim that disappeared from the hospital. I checked — he has military authority to be here on behalf of Lieutenant-General Harold Meier.” She practically recite all of this in one single breath.

“I don’t know what to tell these people anymore,” Dr. Fritz complained. “They cannot clean up their own mess and now they come and waste my time with…” and off he went muttering furiously. His assistant gave the two nurses one more glance before rushing after her boss.

“What is that about?” Sister Barken sighed. “I’m glad I’m not in the poor doctor’s shoes. Come on, Nurse Marx. Time for our rounds.” She resumed her normal austere form of command just to establish that work time had begun. And with her usual stern annoyance she added, “And wipe your eyes, for Pete’s sake, Marlene, before patients think you are as high as they are!”

Several hours later Nurse Marx took a breather. She had just emerged from the Maternity Ward, where she had been donating her shift time for two hours each day. Two of the regular maternity nurses had put in compassionate leave after the recent murders, so the ward was a bit short staffed. In the nurses’ office she took the weight off her sore feet and she listened to the promising rumble of the kettle.

While she waited, a few rays of gilded light illuminated the table and chairs in front of the small fridge and led her gaze along the precise lines of the furniture. In her state of fatigue it brought to mind the sad news of earlier. Right there on the smooth surface of the off-white table she could still see the folder of Dr. Nina Gould, lying there like any other chart she might read. Only this one had a smell to it. A rotten smell of decay permeated from it, choking Nurse Marx until she jumped from the horrid dream with a sudden flail of her hand. She almost sent her teacup flying to the hard floor, but caught it just in time, employing those adrenaline-fuelled reflexes of a sudden start.

“Oh my goodness!” she whispered in a puff of panic, holding the porcelain cup tightly. Her eyes fell on the barren top of the table where there was no file in sight. To her relief it had just been an ugly mirage of a recent shock, but she wished sorely that that was the case with the actual news contained therein. Why could that, too, not just have been a bad dream? Poor Nina!

Marlene Marx felt her eyes moisten again, but this time it was not for Nina’s condition. It was because she had no idea whether the beautiful, dark-haired historian was even alive, let alone where she’d been taken by the stonehearted villain.