A Vision of Fire

She realized that the dog was trying to stay away from where he had thrown up but he did not want to desert Maanik. When no stern words or rebuke came from Kamala or Hansa, Jack London returned to the room, beginning with the edges of the windows, sniffing thoroughly with his shoulders sunk in “guard” mode.

Caitlin was doing her own less overt analysis of her surroundings. The noxious air that had choked the area around the bed was easing somewhat. The closeness she had felt, as though something were pressing in on her, had also dissipated; she felt almost light now, the way she did when she took off her ankle weights after jogging. Caitlin suspected that Jack London had sensed the same. Still, he was very cautious about approaching the bed — and Maanik, who had been the epicenter of whatever the dog had experienced. When he eventually leaped up onto the bed and sniffed around the girl, he showed an aversion not just to her right hand but also to her head. It was just the tiniest recoil. Finally, Jack London curled up by Maanik’s feet but remained on guard, staring at the wall behind her head.

“One good thing,” Ben said in a low voice.

“What’s that?” Caitlin asked.

“I’m sure Kashmir was pretty far from the ambassador’s thoughts the last half hour or so.”

Caitlin nodded. “Sometimes any break is a good break,” she said quietly. “In the session, did you notice Maanik’s hair?” She was trying not to lead his answer.

“I saw it move,” Ben replied. “Like it was caught in a breeze that wasn’t there.”

She exhaled more breath than she thought she’d been holding. Ben smiled.

“I’ll let you know if you’re going crazy, Dr. O’Hara,” he said.

“Good,” she said, laughing a little, “because I’m starting to wonder.”

“Cai, something definitely happened here, and like you said, it wasn’t all in Maanik’s head.”

Caitlin and Ben left the bedroom and Jack London, who was still gazing at the wall but with his head resting on his paws. They were followed by Mrs. Pawar, who sat in the living room, clearly shaken. Mr. Pawar stayed with Maanik. Caitlin went over and sat with Hansa for a while, just listening — the woman needed to vent her worries, not just about her daughter but about her husband.

“You can’t protect him from this,” Caitlin told her.

“I know that. My hope is that he can handle it all without breaking.” She looked at Caitlin with sad eyes. “He had no reaction at all, himself, to the attempt on his life. It is as if he has pushed that entirely out of his mind.”

“For now, most likely he has,” Caitlin said. “To him, these other concerns are greater.” She smiled. “Trust me, there will be time for you to care for him.”

“What about Maanik?” the woman asked. “Has this helped you understand?”

“I’m sure it has, I just have to sift through her answers,” Caitlin said. “We’ll be working on that this evening. I told you, we’re going to figure this out.”

“He is a caring man,” Mrs. Pawar said, looking at Ben.

“Very.” Caitlin beamed appreciatively.

Mrs. Pawar asked Kamala for water, then went to the window and looked down at the city. Caitlin implored Mrs. Pawar and Kamala to make sure that Maanik’s bedroom was aired out with the windows open twice a day, not just with plug-in fresheners, and that Maanik should also sit twice daily on the balcony, bundled up against the cold. Mrs. Pawar started to object, indicating an overlooking terrace to the east, but Caitlin pointed to a Japanese folding screen and suggested they use that for privacy.

Caitlin checked on Maanik one more time and bade the Pawars a good night. It wasn’t until Ben and Caitlin were in the elevator and nearly to the lobby that she allowed herself to ease from professional mode into her own mild release. She breathed through the slight queasiness and shakes.

“You okay?” Ben asked, noting her fingers’ trembling.

“Will be.”

But the feeling only grew as they stepped outside. A burning smell surrounded her, as if someone had lit a fire in a fireplace in one of the surrounding buildings. And then she felt eyes on her again, and a cold so thorough she shivered under her coat. She stopped just as they reached the sidewalk.

“Caitlin?” Ben asked. “What is it?”

“I feel like I’m being watched,” she murmured. Somehow it was harder to tell Ben this

than any of the other bizarre details of the past few days.

Ben looked around. Save for a few people walking their dogs, the street was relatively free of pedestrians. He glanced up at the lowest windows in the building. There was no one looking down.

“I’m sure it’s some kind of emotional aftershock,” she said. “Paranoia. Let’s get a cab.”

“On second thought…,” Ben said.

“What?”

“A security chief told me once that if you feel like you’ve got eyes on you, don’t take a cab. You don’t know who’s driving it, and you don’t know if they’ve been waiting for you out of your sight.”

“But I don’t think anyone’s actually watching me.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re going to walk to the subway.”