didn't want to risk being barred from hospital altogether, and at any rate, Badri was in no condition to talk. He had been clearly unconscious when they took him out of the ambulance. Unconscious and with a fever of 39.5. Something wrong.
The registrar was looking suspiciously up at him. "Would you mind terribly giving me that spelling again?"
He spelled Chaudhuri for her and then asked where he could find a telephone.
"Just down the corridor," she said. "Age?"
"I don't know," he said. "Twenty-five? He's been at Balliol for four years."
He answered the rest of her questions as best he could and then looked out the door to see if Gilchrist had come and went down the corridor to the telephones and rang up Brasenose. He got the porter, who was decorating an artificial Christmas tree that stood on the lodge counter.
"I need to speak to Puhalski," Dunworthy said, hoping that was the name of the first-year tech.
"He's not here," the porter said, draping a silver garland over the branches with his free hand.
"Well, as soon as he returns, please tell him I need to speak with him. It's very important. I need him to read a fix for me. I'm at -- " Dunworthy waited pointedly for the porter to finish arranging the garland and write the number of the call box down, which he finally did, scribbling it on the lid of a box of ornaments. "If he can't reach me at this number, have him ring the casualties department at Infirmary. How soon will he return, do you think?"
"That's difficult to say," the porter said, unwrapping an angel. "Some of them come back a few days early, but most of them don't show up until the first day of term."
"What do you mean? Isn't he staying in college?"
"He was. He was going to run the net for Mediaeval, but when he found he wasn't needed, he went for home."
"I need his home address then and his telephone number."
"It's somewhere in Wales, I believe, but you'd have to talk to the college secretary for that, and she's not here just now either."
"When will she be back?"
"I can't say, sir. She went to London to do a bit of Christmas shopping."
Dunworthy gave another message while the porter straightened the angel's wings, and then rang off and tried to think if there were any other techs in Oxford for Christmas. Clearly not, or Gilchrist wouldn't have used a first-year student in the first place.
He put a call through to Magdalen anyway, but got no answer. He hung up, thought a minute, and then rang up Balliol. There was no answer there either. Finch must still be out showing the American bellringers the bells at Great Tom. He looked at his digital. It was only half-past two. It seemed much later. They might only be at lunch.
He rang up the phone in Balliol's hall, but still got no answer. He went back into the waiting area, expecting Gilchrist to be there. He wasn't but the two medics were, talking to a staff nurse. Gilchrist had probably gone back to Brasenose to plot his next drop or the one after that. Perhaps he'd send Kivrin straight into the Black Death the third time round for direct observation.
"There you are," the staff nurse said. "I was afraid you'd left. If you'll just come with me."
Dunworthy had assumed she was speaking to him, but the medics followed her out the door, too, and down a corridor.
"Here we are, then," she said, holding a door open for them. The medics filed through. "There's tea on the trolley, and a WC just through there."
"When will I be able to see Badri Chaudhuri?" Dunworthy asked, holding the door so she couldn't shut it.
"Dr. Ahrens will be with you directly," she said and shut the door in spite of him.
The female medic had already slouched down in a chair, her hands in her pockets. The man was over by the tea trolley, plugging in the electric kettle. Neither of them had asked the registrar any questions on the way down the corridor, so perhaps this was routine, though Dunworthy couldn't imagine why they would want to see Badri. Or why they had all been brought
The registrar was looking suspiciously up at him. "Would you mind terribly giving me that spelling again?"
He spelled Chaudhuri for her and then asked where he could find a telephone.
"Just down the corridor," she said. "Age?"
"I don't know," he said. "Twenty-five? He's been at Balliol for four years."
He answered the rest of her questions as best he could and then looked out the door to see if Gilchrist had come and went down the corridor to the telephones and rang up Brasenose. He got the porter, who was decorating an artificial Christmas tree that stood on the lodge counter.
"I need to speak to Puhalski," Dunworthy said, hoping that was the name of the first-year tech.
"He's not here," the porter said, draping a silver garland over the branches with his free hand.
"Well, as soon as he returns, please tell him I need to speak with him. It's very important. I need him to read a fix for me. I'm at -- " Dunworthy waited pointedly for the porter to finish arranging the garland and write the number of the call box down, which he finally did, scribbling it on the lid of a box of ornaments. "If he can't reach me at this number, have him ring the casualties department at Infirmary. How soon will he return, do you think?"
"That's difficult to say," the porter said, unwrapping an angel. "Some of them come back a few days early, but most of them don't show up until the first day of term."
"What do you mean? Isn't he staying in college?"
"He was. He was going to run the net for Mediaeval, but when he found he wasn't needed, he went for home."
"I need his home address then and his telephone number."
"It's somewhere in Wales, I believe, but you'd have to talk to the college secretary for that, and she's not here just now either."
"When will she be back?"
"I can't say, sir. She went to London to do a bit of Christmas shopping."
Dunworthy gave another message while the porter straightened the angel's wings, and then rang off and tried to think if there were any other techs in Oxford for Christmas. Clearly not, or Gilchrist wouldn't have used a first-year student in the first place.
He put a call through to Magdalen anyway, but got no answer. He hung up, thought a minute, and then rang up Balliol. There was no answer there either. Finch must still be out showing the American bellringers the bells at Great Tom. He looked at his digital. It was only half-past two. It seemed much later. They might only be at lunch.
He rang up the phone in Balliol's hall, but still got no answer. He went back into the waiting area, expecting Gilchrist to be there. He wasn't but the two medics were, talking to a staff nurse. Gilchrist had probably gone back to Brasenose to plot his next drop or the one after that. Perhaps he'd send Kivrin straight into the Black Death the third time round for direct observation.
"There you are," the staff nurse said. "I was afraid you'd left. If you'll just come with me."
Dunworthy had assumed she was speaking to him, but the medics followed her out the door, too, and down a corridor.
"Here we are, then," she said, holding a door open for them. The medics filed through. "There's tea on the trolley, and a WC just through there."
"When will I be able to see Badri Chaudhuri?" Dunworthy asked, holding the door so she couldn't shut it.
"Dr. Ahrens will be with you directly," she said and shut the door in spite of him.
The female medic had already slouched down in a chair, her hands in her pockets. The man was over by the tea trolley, plugging in the electric kettle. Neither of them had asked the registrar any questions on the way down the corridor, so perhaps this was routine, though Dunworthy couldn't imagine why they would want to see Badri. Or why they had all been brought
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