She did. I swallowed it with effort. It took a few minutes before the medication started working and I could breathe properly again.

"What happened?" she repeated when she saw the worst of it had passed.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm fine." It was such a ridiculous statement that it might have provoked a laugh if not for the bleakness of my situation.

"You don't look fine. You look much worse than before." She touched my forehead, and her mouth fell open. "You're burning up. I'll get the doctor."

"No. Get me my clothes."

"What?"

"My clothes. Please, bring them here."

"Whatever for?"

"I'm leaving."

"Leaving? What do you mean, leaving?"

I took a breath, not too deep so it wouldn't inflame my throbbing ribs. "I'm getting discharged and going home."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Adam. Not a good idea at all."

It wasn't, but the alternative was even worse. Kulaski had told me to get out of Jerusalem today, which meant I could spend a little time in the hospital and still catch the bus to Tel Aviv. But I wasn't taking any chances that he would have second thoughts and come back. I wanted to be gone as soon as possible.

"You may be right," I said. "But that's what I've decided."

"But why?" she asked, holding her hands out in supplication, begging me to let her help me.

"It doesn't matter, Rona. What I need you to do now is get me my clothes. Please, can you do that for me?"

She kept looking at me for a few seconds. Then she shook her head and walked out. She didn't return. Dr. Aboulker did. He looked distraught, agitated, his former cool demeanor gone. He wasn't wearing his white coat, which led me to think he'd been on his way out when Rona brought him the news.

"What's this nonsense I hear, Mr. Lapid? You wish to be discharged?"

"Yes."

"You're in no condition for it," he said flatly, leaving no room for argument.

"Are you planning to keep me here by force?"

He glared at me. "I could, you know. A man in your state, I could have you committed for your own good."

"You'd have to strap me to the bed, Doctor."

He studied my face, gauging my seriousness. He didn't like what he saw. He rolled his lower lip between his teeth as he pondered how to convince me to reverse my foolish decision.

"Look at you," he said. "Your fever has shot up."

I didn't need to see a thermometer to know it was true. I could feel it. Kulaski's punch had rattled my body, thrown it off-kilter. As though his fist had injected pollution into my blood vessels, and my body was frantically fighting to kill the poison by burning it up.

"You can give me something for that, can't you?"

"Such a fever, such injuries; you need to stay under observation. It's malpractice to let you leave."

"I'll take full responsibility, Doctor."

He snorted, but utterly without humor. "Yes, I can see you're the responsible sort." I made no comment, and he continued, "You think that will help me sleep better at night if you drop dead from your injuries?"

I hadn't considered that side of things. I was moved by his concern. "I'm not going to die, Doctor. I've survived worse."

His eyes twitched toward my left forearm. He had also seen my number tattoo; he knew what it signified. He rubbed a finger across his mouth, thinking furiously. "I hope you have a damn good reason for leaving," he finally said.

"I need to be in Tel Aviv."

"Can't it wait a few days?"

"I'm afraid it can't."

"How about tomorrow? Surely it will hold till tomorrow."

"It won't, Doctor. I wish it would."

"Is there no way I could prevail upon you to remain here?"

I shook my head. "None."

"How about I list the potential risks you face if you walk out of here in your condition?"

"Please don't. My mind's made up."

He nodded, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked as worn-out as I felt. Returning the glasses to their place, he said, "I hope you won't take this the wrong way, Mr. Lapid, but you're a damn fool."

I half-smiled. "An accurate diagnosis, Doctor. Unfortunately, it's a chronic condition."

He didn't smile back. "I hope you know what you're doing. I really do."

I didn't answer. What was there to say?

He sighed. "All right. I'll tell Rona to fetch your clothes and get your discharge form ready."

He left but returned a minute later with a syringe. "For the fever," he said before plunging the needle into me. Rona appeared with my clothes. There was no hat. I asked her about it, and she said I hadn't been wearing one when I was brought in. I took this in without comment. Two hats in the space of a week. Had to be closing in on a record.

Rona gave me a discharge form. I signed it.

"Who's picking you up?" Dr. Aboulker asked.

"No one."