The monitor's picture was in color, but the predominant hue was brown.
Where was this? The OR had to be somewhere in the clinic, but still . .
.
The space looked flawlessly sterile, obviously an operating theater,
but it was certainly like none other on earth. The walls were not white
or pale blue; they had the shade of stone and were decorated with Maya
picture writing and bas-reliefs. It was as though a sacred chapel had
been converted into a surgery. I guessed this was what he meant by
"cosmetic changes." A door was visible on the right side of the screen,
and moments later Alex Goddard strode through, coming in from the
hallway.
So, it must be right next door. God, the place looked ancient and
haunted.
I watched as he walked over to a basin and scrubbed his hands, then
donned a white surgical mask. Next he flipped various switches on the
walls. Finally he put on a second mask that glistened like some green
crystalline material.
What was that for? Then it hit me. A "jade" mask . . .
That was something Sarah had mentioned in her ramblings. So she must
have seen this too. Which meant. . . not everything she described was
just some drug-induced hallucination. The mask part was very real. . . .
Now Marcelina was rolling a steel operating table, bearing a
dark-haired Maya woman, through the doorway. The patient looked like
all the others down in Baalum, except that she had a strange expression
on her face. She appeared to be tense and very afraid, as her eyes kept
darting around the room, then to the "jade" mask Alex Goddard was
wearing--most likely papier-mache covered with shiny green granules.
When she was in position, he walked to the corner and flipped another
switch, whereupon there started the deep droning of a chant, probably
from speakers in the walls, that sounded like Kekchi Maya.
He bent over her and said something in the same language, after which
Marcelina placed a rubber mask over her nose and mouth. Her eyes still
frightened, the patient uttered a few words, perhaps a final prayer,
then inhaled deeply. As her eyelids fluttered, he turned and opened
what appeared to be some kind of stone tableau, covered by its own
bas-relief. It was, I finally realized, merely painted fiberglass--that
was what the whole room was--and inside were CRT monitors designed to
display various vital life functions. As Marcelina helped him, he began
attaching sensors to the patient's body.
When the woman's eyes had fully closed, he removed his green mask and
tossed it into a box.
It's all fake. The room, everything. Just like _Baalum_. But now he's
got Sarah's mind caught in his thrall. I've got to make her understand
nothing here is real.
Marcelina was carefully watching the screens, her apprehension obvious
as she fiddled uncertainly with the knobs.
"Oxygen steady." Her voice was small and uneasy. "EKG stable."
He immediately stripped away the sheet that had been covering the
patient. Beneath it was an open-sided gown colored in brilliant stripes
of red and blue. He pulled it back with absent precision, then turned
to Marcelina.
"Shave her and scrub her."
With the woman now under sedation, Marcelina put on her own surgical
garb: She pulled a blue plastic cap over her hair, then secured a white
OR mask over her face. While she was finishing the preparations, he
turned and walked to the far side of the room, where he abruptly seemed
to disappear through the wall.
What . . . There must be a panel there, a camouflaged door.
He was gone for a moment, then reappeared carrying a long metal tube
that looked to be emitting white vapor. He next opened yet another
ersatz stone cabinet to reveal a microscope with a CRT screen above it.
He took out three glass ampules from the tube--frozen embryos,
undoubtedly--and placed them in a container. When he switched on the
microscope, its CRT screen showed him whatever he needed to know.
Interesting. In surgery, he was coldly efficient, no "human touch."
Here he was the "scientist" Alex Goddard.
Next, Marcelina activated an ultrasound scanner and began running the
wand over the woman's stomach. The screen above the table showed her
uterus and her Fallopian tubes with flickering clarity.
He'd been readying the embryos, and now he walked over and carefully
inserted a needle into the woman's abdomen--ouch--his eyes on the
ultrasound scan, which indicated the precise location of the needle's
tip.
I watched as the screen showed the needle on its way to its
destination, a thin, hard line amidst the pulsing gray mass of her
uterus. Seconds later all three embryos had been implanted with such
flawless precision it was scary.
Did I want to undergo this deeply invasive procedure at the hands of
Alex Goddard? The very thought left a dull ache in my stomach.
While Marcelina bandaged her and began preparing her for return to
wherever she'd been, he turned off the systems, then closed their
"stone" cabinets.
I thought back to some of the "hallucinations" Sarah had poured out.
She'd mentioned the green mask, and she'd also relived some sinister
event that seemed to her like disappearing down a long white tunnel.
Was that her own anesthesia? Did he perform an in vitro on her too?
I jumped as I heard the "bump, thump, bump" sound of the operating
table being rolled out of the OR and back down the hall. For some
reason I thought of the sound of fate knocking on the door, like death
coming to take Don Giovanni. Did Alex Goddard have plans to take me,
only with drugs and medical sleight of hand? It wasn't going to happen.
I switched off the monitor and turned to stare at the computers. Why
were they here in this "place of miracles"? What did they hold? Maybe
that was where I should be. . . .
That was the moment when the heavy office door swung open and Marcelina
appeared.
"Your room is ready now." Her English was heavily accented but sure.
"He sent me to show you. And I can wash any of your things if you like."
My room? Whoa! Since when had I checked in?
"Marcelina, we need to talk. What happened to Sarah the last time she
was here? Was she operated on like that woman just now?"
I also planned to ask her about all the bizarre trappings surrounding
the procedure. Why was the woman so sucked in by his phony Mardi Gras
mysticism? Had Sarah fallen for it too?
"Sara was one of the special ones. You are surely blessed too. You
resemble her a lot." She looked at me, affection in her dark eyes, then
turned and headed out the door. "But come, let me take you up."
Of course I resembled her; she was my cousin. But so what? I didn't
like the odd way she'd said it. And what about my question?
Watching her walk away, clearly nervous, I realized this was the moment
I'd been dreading--when I had to make a decision about how far to play
along with Alex Goddard. Steve couldn't be reached, yet, but I still
might be able to handle the situation on my own. The first thing to do
was to get down to Sarah and talk some sense into her. Then I had to
arrange for a way to get us both out.
So . . . probably the best way to accomplish that was to go along with
my own medical charade for a few more hours, to give me time to scout
the scene and come up with a plan. A room would be a base to operate
from.
Still, I was feeling plenty of trepidation as we ascended the marble
steps to the second floor, which had a long, carpeted hallway with
doors along each side. Then, when we started down the hall, I caught
the sound of a baby crying.
"What's this floor for?" I remembered Alex Goddard had claimed it was
to provide a postpartum bonding period, but I wanted to confirm that
with my own eyes.
"This is the recovery ward and nursery. Here, let me show you." She
paused and pushed open the door nearest us. I looked in to see a Mayan
woman resting on a high hospital bed and wearing a white shift, with an
ornate wicker cradle, wide and deep, next to her.
Marcelina smiled and said something to her that sounded like an apology
for the intrusion. The room was lit only by candles, but I did make out
how oddly the woman stared at me, as though she was seeing a spirit.
Why was that? Because I was a _gringa _here in the middle of the
forest? But it seemed something more.
"The birth of a child is a sacred thing for us." Marcelina was
discreetly closing the door again. "When a woman carries a child she
will take walks to the _milpas_, to the river, to the orchards, just so
her little one can be in its world. Then, after her baby is born, our
tradition holds that she should be alone with it for a week and a day.
So their life's breath can become one."
I could sense her heart was deeply entwined with the people here at
Baalum.
"Marcelina, how long have--?"
"Well, what do you think?" said a voice. I looked around to see Alex
Goddard coming up the stairs behind us. And my anger welled up again.
Everything about him was just too . . . manipulating.
He'd changed back to his black sweatshirt and jeans and was carrying a
tray. The costume event was over. In an instant Marcelina slipped
quietly around him and headed back down the stairs, almost like a
rabbit startled by a fox. He smiled and moved past me.
"All those trappings just now, the fake green mask." I decided to
challenge him head-on. Start forcing him to show his hand. "What's--?"
"Merely a little harmless theater." He looked back. "The forest Maya
like to think they're being ministered to by a shaman." Then he
indicated I should follow him. "By the way, in case you do get hungry,
I brought you something you can have in your room if you like. Then you
can make yourself at home and rest a bit."
Hold on. I was being given the illusion of freedom, but in reality I
was nothing more than his prisoner.
"That room next to your office. The steel door. What's in--?"
"That's the heart of _Baalum_." Pride in his voice. "The real reason
I'm here."
"You mean drug research?"
He nodded. "Did you know the Central American rain forest easily
contains a hundred thousand plant species? Over half of all
pharmaceutical drugs are derived from plants, yet less than one percent
of those here have been tested for pharmacological potential. Still,
the old shamans and midwives all know of herbs they claim can cure
everything from menstrual cramps to cancer." He smiled. "They also know
which ones have powerful contraceptive properties, which is
particularly helpful in my primary study, fertility and fetal
viability. I take the specimens they bring and perform a rough
screening in the lab to determine if they're actually pharmacologically
active. If they do test positive, I then examine their effect on the
blastocyst, the early form of embryonic cell formed just after
fertilization, to see whether they affect cell division and viability
and . . . the miscarriage rate here is very low, so some of these
plants . . ." His voice trailed off as he pushed open the door of a
suite at the end of the hall. It had a stone floor, a simple bed, and
through the slatted windows the light of midday filtered through, along
with the birdcalls of the rain forest. Any other time and place, I'd
have felt like I was staying at a rustic nature retreat.
But this wasn't some other time and place. And what about Steve? Where
was he? Maybe he was somewhere worse. Thinking about him, I was
startled to hear myself say . . .
"Incidentally, I found out the man I've been trying to have a baby with
didn't show up at his hotel in Belize last night. He was driving there
from Guatemala City. I'm very worried. I keep hearing about how people
get 'disappeared' in this country. He's--"
"Could his name be Steve Abrams?" Goddard turned back, still holding
the tray.
It was a moment that stopped my heart. For a second I wasn't even able
to speak.
"How . . . did you know?" I finally managed to say. "I never
mentioned--"
"That's the name they gave me. I received a call this morning from
Guatemala City. From Colonel Ramos's office, in fact. As you might
suppose, he's well aware you're here, and he said you were seen dining
night before last at a downtown restaurant with a man by that name.
They think he's in the country because of you, and they're trying to
locate him."
I felt the life go entirely out of me. My God what was going on? Steve
was now the subject of a manhunt in a police state. Did he even know?
"I told them you were here for purely medical reasons." He sighed with
frustration. "And that they were being irrationally paranoid but . . ."
"So they don't actually know where he is, right?" I was still trying to
breathe.
"As of this morning. If they did they wouldn't have called up here." He
walked over and set the tray down on a rustic table next to the bed. "I
wouldn't worry too much about it. He's committed no crime. They just
want to make sure you realize your presence has not gone unnoticed."
Dear God. What had I dragged Steve into? If they found him, what would
they do? I could only pray he was deft enough to elude them. If anybody
could . . .
Then I looked at the tray. An empty syringe was there. Also, there was
a large bowl containing some kind of soup. I was finally growing
ravenous, but still . . .
"What's this for?" I indicated the syringe.
"I just need to take a little blood for some tests. Don't worry, it
won't hurt a bit."
Hold on. How far do I have to play along to stay in his chess game?