The Nemesis Program

Chapter Sixty

Quigley had been right: it was a hell of a long night. But while the American finally passed out from fatigue, Ben had to suffer every minute of it wide awake. The first time he tried to check on Roberta, he was sternly denied access by the doctor and backed off. The second time, he was told by an orderly that she’d been moved. Dr Rahardjo would know where to — except Dr Rahardjo was nowhere to be seen either.

Ben was reduced to pacing up and down to keep himself from going insane with worry. But then, he wasn’t the only one for whom sleep was impossible. As the hours went by, the influx of injured disaster survivors showed little sign of abating and the hospital staff were given no rest. Sometime after three in the morning Ben caught sight of the nurse who’d helped him earlier, weeping in a corner as the strain finally got to her. He went to fetch her a drink of water. As she sipped it gratefully and wiped her tears, he gently asked if she had any news of Roberta. She said she’d try and find out more.

It wasn’t until four-thirty that the nurse returned, grey and worn out, and said in an expressionless voice, ‘Please follow.’

She led Ben through the corridors, which if anything had grown even more chaotic and depressing in the last few hours. As he followed, his mind was reeling from the knowledge that this could be bad news. Where was she taking him? To some office where he’d be shown her personal effects — watch, shoes, tattered clothing — and made to sign her off as dead?

The nurse opened a door and waved him through.

And gave an exhausted smile.

That smile sent shockwaves through Ben’s whole body. It meant Roberta was all right. He suddenly wanted to hug the poor weary Indonesian woman. ‘Thank you,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘I really thank you.’

The nurse led him through a dimly-lit ward filled with male patients and pointed out the bed at the end of the row, screened off behind a curtain. ‘She very weak,’ she whispered firmly. ‘Must rest. You not wake her.’

‘And the X-rays?’

‘She be okay. Must rest. Plenty rest. I go now. You not disturb her, okay?’

Left alone, Ben self-consciously walked by the other patients in their beds, some sleeping, some peering at him in the semi-darkness of the ward. He stopped at the curtain. Drew back one edge and peered anxiously through.

She was sleeping. There was a thick dressing over the cut on her forehead and the bruises were livid in places, but some of the colour seemed to have returned to her cheeks and as he stood there, almost too afraid to breathe himself, he saw that her breathing was steady and calm. He stepped closer to the bed, let the curtain swish shut behind him, and kneeled at her side. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said in a whisper. ‘You’re going to be all right. That’s all that matters.’

He wanted to hold her. Kiss her. He was so confused. But happy, happier in that moment than he’d been in a long time. Victor Craine, the Nemesis Program: all that stuff seemed suddenly very far away.

‘None of this should have happened to you,’ he whispered as she slept. ‘You’ll be safe now. I’ll get you taken where nobody can touch you.’ In a surge of tenderness he reached out and delicately brushed away a dark red lock of hair that had fallen across her face.

Her eyelids parted slightly, then opened wide. ‘Ben,’ she murmured, trying to focus on him. ‘Is that you?’

‘I’m here,’ he said.

She gripped his arm. Her hand felt warm, but she was feeble. ‘Don’t leave me.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he whispered, breaking into a smile. He caressed her hair. ‘I’m staying right here with you until you’re better.’

‘Promise?’

‘Let them try and stop me.’

They did try, but he was true to his word. All of the next day, the next night and the day after that, he camped resolutely by her side, eating only when he had to, sleeping in fits in a chair brought to him by the nurse he’d befriended, only leaving the ward when the medical team needed to attend to her. The hospital and its routines became like its own little world. The sole contact with outside were the news reports that leaked into the ward from some of the more mobile inpatients who had been catching up with hourly TV bulletins. The word was that the tsunami had been the worst ever recorded. The death toll was in the tens of thousands and offers of aid were pouring in from all the member states of the United Nations. The disaster had rekindled media buzz about climate anomalies, global warming, solar flares.

Ben listened to the reports and felt sick.

All that time he watched Roberta become stronger. Dr Rahardjo visited her bedside now and again, and with each visit his concerns about possible effects of the concussion such as headaches, blurred vision, memory loss, nausea, became less pronounced. By the second evening, he took Ben aside and told him she could soon leave hospital; in any case, he admitted, they badly needed to free up the bed.

Another occasional visitor was Jack Quigley, who seemed genuinely pleased that Roberta was recovering so fast. While Ben had been at her bedside, Quigley had been busy. The third time he came to the ward he was accompanied by a grave young man who introduced himself as Joe Mulligan from the US Embassy in Jakarta, in charge of ensuring the return passage of all American citizens caught up in the disaster. Mulligan was intelligent and affable, and Ben trusted him. Roberta would be flown to Chicago, where her medical care would resume until she was fully recovered and she could go home to Canada.

Whether or not Quigley had been pulling strings, Ben would never know and preferred not to ask — but things moved quickly after that, and by the morning of the third day, the arrangements were in place and a jet was on standby at Jakarta airport. Joe Mulligan and a female assistant brought clothes for her to wear. The nurses helped her out of bed and Ben was herded away as she changed. She was getting stronger all the time, but still too weak to walk unaided, and Dr Rahardjo thought it best to restrict her to a wheelchair.

Then it was time to say goodbye.

It was Ben who wheeled her from the ward. The hospital was a different place now that the initial crisis of the disaster had been contained. Joe Mulligan and some of his colleagues in dark suits were waiting across the lobby.

‘I don’t want to leave,’ Roberta said.

Ben crouched in front of her chair and clasped her hands. ‘Joe’s people will be with you all the way to the airport and there’ll be someone there to hand you over to the officials at the other end. You’ll be safe there. Nobody can touch you. Then you can go home to Ottawa and get on with your life.’

‘I mean, I don’t want to leave without you,’ she said. ‘Come with me.’

‘It’s the only way,’ he said.

She looked at him imploringly. ‘There are so many things I want to tell you.’

‘Me too,’ he said. ‘That’s why maybe this is for the best.’

‘Does that mean I’ll never hear from you again?’ A tear ran down her face. She quickly brushed it away.

He smiled. ‘Of course you will.’

‘No, I won’t,’ she said. ‘I know you, Ben Hope.’ After a pause she said, ‘You’re going after them, aren’t you?’

‘This isn’t over. Like you said, destruction’s the one thing I’m good at.’

‘They’ll kill you.’

‘They tried, remember? I’m still here. So are you.’

Mulligan and his people were looking impatient, glancing at their watches.

‘You have to go now,’ Ben said. He smiled again. Squeezed her hands one last time, then stood up.

‘I wish it could have been different for us,’ Roberta said.

Ben didn’t reply. He bent down and kissed her cheek, then signalled to Joe Mulligan. One of his female colleagues walked over with a smile and introduced herself as Fay Greenbaum. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr Ryder. I’ll be flying with you to Chicago.’

Ben let her go. He watched as the officials wheeled her down the ramp and out to the waiting car.

As they opened the back door for her, Roberta turned to give him a last look and a wave.

But he was already walking away.

He didn’t want her to see him so upset.

In a quiet part of the corridor, he composed himself. Then he went looking for Jack Quigley.

‘You ready?’

‘I’m ready.’

‘Let’s get started.’