in an unheard rhythm. “Middle, wrong, and into the hunt,” she said when Dunworthy tried to take her back inside.
Finch appeared, looking distraught. “It’s the bells, sir,” he said, taking hold of her other arm. “They upset her. I don’t think they should ring them under the circumstances.”
Ms. Piantini wrenched free of Dunworthy’s restraining hand. “Every man must stick to his bell without interruption,” she said furiously.
“I quite agree,” Finch said, clutching her arm as firmly as if it were a bell rope, and led her back to her cot.
Colin came skidding in, drenched as usual and nearly blue with cold. His jacket was open, and Mary’s gray muffler dangled uselessly about his neck. He handed Dunworthy a message. “It’s from Badri’s nurse,” he said, opening a packet of soap tablets and popping a light blue one into his mouth.
The note was drenched, too. It read “Badri asking for you,” though the word “Badri” was so blurred he couldn’t make out more than the B.
“Did the nurse say whether Badri was worse?”
“No, just to give you the message. And Great-aunt Mary says when you come, you’re to get your enhancement. She said she doesn’t know when the analogue will get here.”
Dunworthy helped Finch wrestle Ms. Piantini into bed and hurried to Infirmary and up to Isolation. There was another new nurse, this one a middle-aged woman with swollen feet. She was sitting with them propped up on the screens, watching a pocket vidder, but she stood up immediately when he came in.
“Are you Mr. Dunworthy?” she asked, blocking his way. “Dr. Ahrens said you’re to meet her downstairs immediately.”
She said it quietly, even kindly, and he thought, She’s trying to spare me. She doesn’t want me to see what’s in there. She wants Mary to tell me first.
“It’s Badri, isn’t it? He’s dead.”
She looked genuinely surprised. “Oh, no, he’s much better this morning. Didn’t you get my note? He’s sitting up.”
“Sitting up?” he said, staring at her, wondering if she were delirious with fever.
“He’s still very weak of course, but his temp’s normal and he’s alert. You’re to meet Dr. Ahrens in Casualties. She said it was urgent.”
He looked wonderingly toward the door to Badri’s room. “Tell him I’ll be in to see him as soon as I can,” he said and hurried out the door.
He nearly collided with Colin, who was apparently coming in. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Did one of the techs telephone?”
“I’ve been assigned to you,” Colin said. “Great-aunt Mary says she doesn’t trust you to get your T-cell enhancement. I’m supposed to take you down to get it.”
“I can’t. There’s an emergency in Casualties,” he said, walking rapidly down the corridor.
Colin ran to keep up with him. “Well, then, after the emergency. She said I wasn’t to let you leave Infirmary without it.”
Mary was there to meet them when the lift opened. “We have another case,” she said grimly. “It’s Montoya.” She started for Casualties. “They’re bringing her in from Witney.”
“Montoya?” Dunworthy said. “That’s impossible. She’s been out at the dig alone.”
She pushed open the double doors. “Apparently not.”
“But she said—are you certain it’s the virus? She’s been working in the rain. Perhaps it’s some other disease.”
Mary shook her head. “The ambulance team ran a prelim. It matches the virus.” She stopped at the admissions desk and asked the house officer, “Are they here yet?”
He shook his head. “They’ve just come through the perimeter.”
Mary walked over to the doors and looked out, as if she didn’t believe him. “We got a call from her this morning, very confused,” she said, turning back to them. “I telephoned to Chipping Norton, which is the nearest hospital, told them to send an ambulance, but they said the dig was officially under quarantine. And I couldn’t get one of ours out to her. I finally had to persuade the NHS to grant a dispensation to send an ambulance.” She peered out the doors again. “When did she go out to the dig?”
“I—” Dunworthy tried to remember. She had phoned to ask him about the Scottish fishing guides on Christmas Day and then phoned back that afternoon to say. “Never mind,” because she had decided to forge Basingame’s signature instead. “Christmas Day,” he said. “If the NHS offices were open. Or the twenty-sixth. No, that was Boxing Day. The twenty-seventh. And she hasn’t seen anyone since then.”
“How do you know?”
“When I spoke to her, she was complaining that she couldn’t keep the dig dry single-handed. She wanted me