A Vision of Fire

“I need you to be alive, not kidnapped and imprisoned and God knows what. I’ll find you a translator and you can call him.”

“There’s no guarantee the boy can talk. And, Ben, I can’t see a nonexistent breeze over the phone.”

“If he can’t speak, if he’s that badly burned, the likelihood of getting anything from him isn’t worth the risk.”

“You can’t know that. I can find a way to safely navigate Iran if I have UN help.”

“Not through me, Caitlin.” Then, as though the sun had risen early, understanding washed over his expression. He turned to face her. “And not from me, either.”

“Sorry?”

“You’re running away from me.”

She was surprised. “Ben, I swear to god, I’m not. I have to see this boy now. He may not live—”

“I said no,” he snapped, giving up on the zipper, not meeting her eye as he grabbed his bag.

“Ben, listen. Last night I understood—no, I felt what could be possible with you. I felt the ability to hold more with you, to be stronger because it’s more than just me now.”

“Not buying. You’re punching out like I’m an appointment.”

“Please listen—”

“No! I will not help you go to Iran, Caitlin.”

He left the room and headed through the foyer to the front door. She called after him, “I’m going, Ben. I’ll find another way.”

There was no reply but the sound of shoes on hardwood and the door shutting.

Caitlin strode to the dining table, picked up her cell phone, and called Director Qanooni of the World Health Organization.

CHAPTER 26

A couple hours later Qanooni called back from the Regional Office for Africa in Brazzaville, Congo. He was working through lunch at his desk. Caitlin told him there was a medical emergency in Iran and she needed to get there ASAP.

“The Country Office in the Islamic Republic of Iran has—how shall I put it? Insubstantial influence over the Ministry of Health.”

“I am aware of that, Mr. Director, but the condition of a patient there may have a great impact on patients here and in Haiti.”

“This must be serious,” he said thoughtfully. “You called me ‘Mr. Director.’”

“Sir—”

“And now ‘sir,’” he said.

“—this is urgent,” she pleaded. “I don’t have time to file a formal request. Is there any way you can get me in?”

“Based on something so vague? No. If you can write something that can, perhaps, expand upon what little you’ve told me?”

Expand? she thought. The minds of young people are being assaulted by a force that only animals and I can detect. Why don’t I just say that? Or hell, why not just stick out my right hand and think it at him?

Then a text from Ben arrived. It was just one word: Done.

Caitlin quickly talked her way off the call and phoned him.

“Ben—are you serious?”

“Very.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

“You can thank Mohammed Larijani, a translator at the Permanent Mission. He’s the one who’s making it happen. He’s telling the Iranian ambassador that an American doctor needs to consult with Iranian doctors. Very good propaganda for them. You don’t mind being used that way, do you?”

“Not at all.” She didn’t have time to work through the double meaning his tone implied.

“I hope it’s worth it,” he added.

“It will be,” she said as she went to her bedroom and began packing. “Ben, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. My friend in Jammu is alive, his girlfriend’s in the hospital.”

“That’s good. But I mean—”

“I know what you mean. Have a safe trip.”

“I will. Hey, Ben?”

“What?”

“A psychiatrist walks into an Iranian bar. She orders scotch with crow.”

Ben was silent.

“Not even a chuckle?” she asked.

“Not now. Not today.”

“I’m sorry you feel like that,” she said sincerely. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

“I’ll text the details of your trip. Mohammed thinks you can get on the two o’clock Aeroflot flight. I have to go now.”

She said thanks again and good-bye, ended the call, and did what she always did when there was a challenge: looked ahead. She called her father and asked if he could please come back to the city. He agreed, of course. He always did.

Caitlin felt terrible all over. It was partly the ever-ready generosity of her father, partly the aftershock of what Ben had said to her, but she couldn’t stop feelings of guilt from clouding her mind. Still, she had a job to do.

Jacob didn’t help her self-regard. She had never taken two trips so closely together. She kept him home from school so they could have a half day together but he was furious throughout, making a point of ignoring her with abrupt turns of his back at first and then acting as if she were invisible. Finally, as her time to leave approached, Jacob simply removed himself. He sat in his room with his eyes closed and without hearing aids. If he sensed her coming into his room to say good-bye—and she suspected he did—he did not acknowledge it.