the proclamation as he emptied the remainder of the magazine into a lifeless corpse… the last time he had used an Uzi was… He felt a pain in his temples and a light flashed, the pain increasing as the light got nearer and brighter. He wanted it to stop; he wanted to move, to run away, but his legs wouldn’t work. He tried to raise his hands to protect his eyes, but they wouldn’t work either. All the while, the light got brighter and the pain intensified. His world changed from the blackest of black to a deep red. James East began to hear a voice speaking in a language he did not officially speak. The red gradually lightened and then the voice spoke to him.
‘Can you hear me?’ The Russian was flawless. ‘You are safe; you are no longer in any danger.’
The doctor noted a flickering beneath the patient’s closed eyelids. He spoke again. ‘If you can hear me, can you try to open your eyes?’ A note was thrust into the doctor’s hand. He read it quickly. ‘I need you to give me the name of your next of kin. We must contact your family to say that you are here and safe with us.’
Family? From somewhere inside East’s mind, a light switched on. His mouth opened and several syllables of Russian rolled out.
‘I am sorry, I did not hear that. Can you say it again?’
More Russian. ‘Y menia bull brat…’ ‘I had a brother…’ East began to say in Russian, then stopped. The pain sharpened and the light became white. Suddenly conscious behind closed eyes, East realised his mistake. He started to groan and make unrecognisable sounds.
‘I am sorry, but I do not understand. Can you say that again?’ The doctor moved closer.
East opened his eyes and spoke in English; his throat was dry and his voice raspy, but his Boston accent, the same one he had used for the past three years, was unmistakable. ‘Where am I?’
The two men standing over the bed momentarily seemed surprised before regaining their composure. The doctor spoke first, sticking to Russian. ‘You are in hospital. You were involved in a shooting.’
East blinked, feigning incomprehension. ‘I’m… s… sorry. What did y… you say?’
The doctor began to speak, but the second man touched him on the shoulder and shook his head. He asked in English, ‘What’s your name?’
‘My… my name is James… James East.’
‘Well, Mr East, my name is Mr Casey. As Dr Litvin was attempting to say, you were caught up in a terrorist attack.’
East tried to sit up, but a searing pain behind his eyes blurred his vision.
Dr Litvin placed his hand on his patient’s arm and now also switched to English. ‘Try not to move too quickly; your body has suffered some trauma.’
East closed his eyes; when he opened them again his vision had returned. He assessed the room. It was a standard hospital white. He noted the badge on the doctor’s coat but directed the question to Casey. ‘Where am I?’
‘You’re in a hospital in Manhattan, Mr East. You were brought here after the shootings. Do you remember that?’
It was hazy, but he did. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘Just over forty-eight hours. You have a concussion.’ The doctor touched his arm reassuringly. ‘You are lucky, Mr East, that it was not more serious.’
‘He must have a thick skull, eh, Doc?’ Casey was jovial.
‘Quite.’
‘Mr East, there are a few questions I would like answered.’
The doctor frowned. ‘If I could have a moment, Mr Casey?’
The doctor stepped outside and folded his arms. He waited for his visitor to join him. ‘While I am more than happy to assist with your investigations, I do not think the patient is medically fit enough to be interrogated.’
Casey raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘Doc, no one’s going to be interrogated. I just need to ask him a few questions.’
‘Not today, Mr Casey. He is not going anywhere. You may question Mr East when I deem him to be fit.’
Casey’s expression hardened. ‘I need to question him in the interests of national security.’
‘You came to me because you thought the patient might be a Russian and, indeed, I heard a few words. However, when he regained consciousness, he spoke English, just like you and me.’ Litvin was an immigrant but didn’t let that cloud the issue. ‘I understand that Mr East is not a normal patient; however, he must be treated as one. Remember, it would be me in the firing line if he were to sue the hospital for any complications or malpractice.’
‘Thank you for your candour, Doc.’ Casey decided to push no further.
*
Scanning the room, East realised there was no TV in the corner, just an empty bracket. He tried to sit up again but felt as though a gigantic hand was squeezing his head.
The door opened and Litvin appeared. He smiled as he neared. ‘Mr Casey is a government agent and wanted to interrogate you. I told him you were not well enough. You need to rest.’ Litvin sat in the chair next to East’s bed. ‘Can you remember what happened?’
‘I think so. How many did they kill?’
‘Nine dead, and seventeen others with gunshot injuries. It was a miracle more innocent shoppers didn’t die. Some people are calling you a hero. I, for one, agree with them.’
‘Thanks, I guess.’ Nine! Inwardly East cursed. Why hadn’t he been faster? Why couldn’t he have been by the entrance to stop them?
Litvin seemed to read his mind. ‘I expect you are asking yourself why you couldn’t have saved more people, or shot the terrorists sooner?’ East nodded and Litvin continued. ‘You are suffering from survivor’s guilt, and everyone does. You wonder why you were chosen to live when others died, when others might have been more deserving of life. No one has answers to this, not down here at least. We are not party to the great plan. Tell me, are you a religious man?’
‘No.’
‘I see. I am from Moscow… and you, Mr East?’
‘Boston.’
‘Originally?’ Litvin raised his eyebrows. East didn’t reply, so the doctor continued. ‘Where did you learn your Russian?’
‘I did a course at college. It was either that or Spanish.’
‘You spoke Russian several times while you were sedated.’ In actual fact, it was when the sedation had begun to wear off, but Litvin wasn’t going to admit the anaesthesiologist might have got the dose wrong.
East changed the subject. ‘When can I leave, Doctor?’
‘In about a week or so. There was some swelling to your cerebellum, which is at the base and back of your brain, and is responsible for coordination and balance. The good news is that the scans did not show any obvious damage. Until you regained consciousness, however, we could not be certain. Now you are conscious,
