think I understand you.”
“You talking to yourself there Anna?”
Anna looked up from Petrov’s new stump. It was the anesthesiologist, Ruslan, who had interrupted her thoughts. He was the kind of guy you knew was hitting on you because his mouth was open. He was just twenty-six, two years younger than she, and slight of build. Nonetheless, Anna knew from talking to her friends that many found him attractive because of his boyish charm and flirty sense of humor. He had no such effect on her.
“Yes, Ruslan, I am. The Professor here is in no mood to talk.”
“I’m in the mood for talk, or anything else you might care to try.”
She ignored the comment. How could he be thinking about sex while standing over a case like this one? The blind persistence of the opposite sex never ceased to amaze her. Last year, one notable gentleman had been so persistent… Don’t go there either. When Anna finally found a guy she was interested in, he would know it. He would not need to hound her night and day.
Petrov suddenly began convulsing on the table and Ruslan ran back to his station as the EKG went wild. “Defibrillators,” she yelled to Vova. He flicked the switch to power them up and then handed her the paddles. Anna placed one on either side of Petrov’s sternum and pushed the buttons. Nothing happened! She looked up and saw that the status light on the machine was still red. Anna stood there, paddles poised, waiting for the green light to indicate that the defibrillators would fire. Three seconds, ten seconds, thirty seconds, and then the EKG went flat. Petrov was in cardiac arrest. Forty seconds, forty-five, fifty, sixty seconds, and then it was too late. Petrov died with her hands on his heart. He died because the mighty USSR, the other great superpower, could not afford to replace a battery. How long could this go on?
Soviet Economy: A Shattered Dream
“The impact of the economic collapse on consumers has been a combination of insult and injury. For the big cities, which is where planners themselves live, the shortages have meant longer lines and endless grousing. For the provinces, which get lower priority, they have meant rationing cards for meat, milk, butter and other staples. For the poor, the pensioners and for those who live in the neglected rural poverty pockets that begin at the outskirts of any city and stretch for countless bleak miles across the country, the last few years have added new misery to an already pathetic situation.”
Bill Keller, The New York Times, Page A1 [iv]
Chapter 14
San Francisco, California
Alex ducked his head as the minivan’s locks responded to Elaine’s remote control. A moment later she opened the door with a sob and slid into her seat. As she buckled up, Alex heard the gasp that signaled the start of their adventure. Keep silent. Drive to Wildwood. Get out at your usual spot : she had spotted his note.
Crouched behind the third row of seats, Alex could almost hear the wheels spinning in her mind: fight, flee, or capitulate? It was the first of many life-changing decisions she would have to make tonight. Elaine started the engine.
His investigation had veered onto this unexpected tack when he spotted her tears. They transformed his thinking like a magic elixir. They were the missing ingredient, the piece that completed a twisted puzzle. The picture painted by that streaked mascara was so repulsive that he trembled with rage. (At least he hoped it was rage.) If his interpretation of the clues was correct, Elaine was a victim herself, a victim of diabolic coercion.
Running with that premise—both literally and figuratively—Alex had dashed for her car to leave the note and hide in the back. He was not hiding from her back there with the Fix-a-Flat and grocery net, but rather from anyone who might be watching, watching or listening. Coercers tended to keep tabs
“You talking to yourself there Anna?”
Anna looked up from Petrov’s new stump. It was the anesthesiologist, Ruslan, who had interrupted her thoughts. He was the kind of guy you knew was hitting on you because his mouth was open. He was just twenty-six, two years younger than she, and slight of build. Nonetheless, Anna knew from talking to her friends that many found him attractive because of his boyish charm and flirty sense of humor. He had no such effect on her.
“Yes, Ruslan, I am. The Professor here is in no mood to talk.”
“I’m in the mood for talk, or anything else you might care to try.”
She ignored the comment. How could he be thinking about sex while standing over a case like this one? The blind persistence of the opposite sex never ceased to amaze her. Last year, one notable gentleman had been so persistent… Don’t go there either. When Anna finally found a guy she was interested in, he would know it. He would not need to hound her night and day.
Petrov suddenly began convulsing on the table and Ruslan ran back to his station as the EKG went wild. “Defibrillators,” she yelled to Vova. He flicked the switch to power them up and then handed her the paddles. Anna placed one on either side of Petrov’s sternum and pushed the buttons. Nothing happened! She looked up and saw that the status light on the machine was still red. Anna stood there, paddles poised, waiting for the green light to indicate that the defibrillators would fire. Three seconds, ten seconds, thirty seconds, and then the EKG went flat. Petrov was in cardiac arrest. Forty seconds, forty-five, fifty, sixty seconds, and then it was too late. Petrov died with her hands on his heart. He died because the mighty USSR, the other great superpower, could not afford to replace a battery. How long could this go on?
Soviet Economy: A Shattered Dream
“The impact of the economic collapse on consumers has been a combination of insult and injury. For the big cities, which is where planners themselves live, the shortages have meant longer lines and endless grousing. For the provinces, which get lower priority, they have meant rationing cards for meat, milk, butter and other staples. For the poor, the pensioners and for those who live in the neglected rural poverty pockets that begin at the outskirts of any city and stretch for countless bleak miles across the country, the last few years have added new misery to an already pathetic situation.”
Bill Keller, The New York Times, Page A1 [iv]
Chapter 14
San Francisco, California
Alex ducked his head as the minivan’s locks responded to Elaine’s remote control. A moment later she opened the door with a sob and slid into her seat. As she buckled up, Alex heard the gasp that signaled the start of their adventure. Keep silent. Drive to Wildwood. Get out at your usual spot : she had spotted his note.
Crouched behind the third row of seats, Alex could almost hear the wheels spinning in her mind: fight, flee, or capitulate? It was the first of many life-changing decisions she would have to make tonight. Elaine started the engine.
His investigation had veered onto this unexpected tack when he spotted her tears. They transformed his thinking like a magic elixir. They were the missing ingredient, the piece that completed a twisted puzzle. The picture painted by that streaked mascara was so repulsive that he trembled with rage. (At least he hoped it was rage.) If his interpretation of the clues was correct, Elaine was a victim herself, a victim of diabolic coercion.
Running with that premise—both literally and figuratively—Alex had dashed for her car to leave the note and hide in the back. He was not hiding from her back there with the Fix-a-Flat and grocery net, but rather from anyone who might be watching, watching or listening. Coercers tended to keep tabs
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