Looking at the inspector, I realized with horror that Kulaski's obsession with me had crossed the boundary of sanity. He wouldn't be making this threat otherwise. I doubted he could get another officer to make good on it. Certainly not in a public place like a hospital. Kulaski would have to do the dirty deed himself.
And he would. Without compunction. I could see it in the twin gray stains of mad malice that his eyes had become.
He said, "You know, Mr. Lapid, before I came to see you, I paid a visit to the brave officer you beat near the Knesset. He's still hospitalized."
"I didn't do it; I already told you that."
He nodded as though to a stupid child. "Yes, I know. You tried to help him. In some ways, he's worse off than you are. You didn't lose any teeth." It was obvious he considered this an oversight on his part. An unjust state of affairs.
Again, it seemed like the inspector was struggling to remain in control, to not let his violent urges get the better of him. The tics had returned. The skin on his face moved constantly, as though maggots milled about beneath it.
Fear squeezed my lungs at the sight. I couldn't draw air. I knew I was in terrible danger. Only when Kulaski picked up his cap, returned it to its place under his left arm, and stood, did the pressure in my chest subside and I could suck in air.
He said, "I apologize I could not be the bearer of good news today, Mr. Lapid. But I'm glad we had this little talk, aren't you?"
"Yes," I said, relief flooding my veins. He was leaving. The immediate danger had passed. "Yes, I am."
"I'm glad to hear it." He flicked a glance toward the door of the room, at the bed where my old roommate still snored, and added, "But just to make sure you grasp my full meaning..."
And before I could react, not even cry out, he drew back his right hand and rammed his fist into my ribs.
He knew of my injuries; his remark about my teeth proved that. That was why he chose the ribs. The pain was like a volcano eruption—scorching, searing, all-consuming. It snapped me up like a leaf in an evil wind, tossed me about, and then plunged me into a black abyss of seething agony. I was blind. I was deaf. I was in a vacuum of sensation. All my senses but that of pain were devoured by the lava that burned through my chest, spreading all over me. I was choking. My brain was shooting garbled messages, warped signals, panicked by its loss of control over my body.
The disconnection from everything around me could not have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt as though I'd been exiled from myself for years and only now allowed to return.
Above me stood Kulaski, a mad-wolf smile stretching his mouth wide. His teeth appeared to glisten. His eyes sparkled with manic joy.
My ears didn't register it, but I must have let out a loud cry or groan, because the old man was awake and calling to me. "Hey, are you okay? Are you all right?"
"Don't worry," Kulaski answered in my place. "He's fine. Just a little pain. I'll ask the nurse to bring him something."
He looked down at me again. "Goodbye, Mr. Lapid. I wish you a pleasant trip back to Tel Aviv."
Kulaski left me gasping for air, whimpering like a whipped dog. Naturally, he did not ask any of the nurses to bring me any pain medication. The old man did that. He shuffled out and got Rona.
She looked appalled when she saw me. "What happened?"
There was no point in telling her the truth. "It hurts," I said. "My ribs. I must have made a bad movement. Can you bring me something for the pain?"
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.
