Read Online A Fierce Radiance by Lauren Belfer - Free Book Online Page B

suspected as much, but I tried not to pay attention.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Well then, since you have no need of my assistance, I’ll be moving along. I don’t want to interfere with your work.”
    She’d taken two dozen shots at various exposures, so her job was more than done, and in fact she’d been indulging herself. “I’m finished at this location.” She sat up. She wanted to get to know David Hoskins.
    Taking off his glove, he extended his hand. “May I help you?”
    Claire wore gloves with the fingers cut off halfway so she could operate the cameras in the cold. The gloves were a nuisance to get on and off, so she didn’t bother, but she appreciated his graciousness in taking off his own gloves. She allowed herself to be pulled up to standing. She stepped into the light and saw him more plainly now, the thick white hair, the dark blue eyes, the wrinkled, pasty-looking skin that made him look as if he hadn’t eaten a healthy meal in months.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked.
    He looked around at the water. “I like to walk up and down the river. Watch the boats and the gulls. The path goes to Eighty-first Street. There’s a sense of freedom here by the water, cut off from the city. How did you find this spot?”
    “I saw it from the path above, along the precipice.”
    “Yes, I’ve walked there, too. I don’t get out much. Constantly looking for diversions.”
    Claire appreciated his tone and his British gift for using language. For her story’s sake, she wanted to gain his trust. Sometimes the most obvious question did the trick: “You enjoy your work?” she asked.
    “Apart from the patients, who display the most appalling tendency to die, yes, I do enjoy my work.”
    “Edward Reese seems to be doing well.”
    Instead of responding, Hoskins gazed across the river, following the progress of a tugboat. Claire thought perhaps he hadn’t heard her. Finally he said, “And you? Do you enjoy your work? Lying here amidst frozen garbage in the middle of December?”
    His question surprised her. She wasn’t accustomed to being questioned in the same manner that she questioned others. She considered for a moment before replying. She remembered the joy she’d felt a few minutes ago as she fulfilled her vision of the Institute. She thought of Charlie, too. “I have an eight-year-old son. My job supports us. That said, yes, absolutely, I’m doing exactly what I want to do. Lying on garbage is just one of those pleasant variations in my usual daily routine. I take it you’re from England originally?”
    “Excellent induction.”
    “Thank you. When did you come to America?”
    “I came over in June with a group from Oxford. Brought our penicillin samples to the safety of the New World to avoid the mass destruction of the Old.”
    “And you decided to stay?”
    “America, land of opportunity and all that.”
    A movement over his shoulder caught her eye.
    “What’s that man doing?” On the far side of the highway, about twenty yards downstream, a man wearing an unbuttoned coat over a suit and tie was leaning over the balustrade toward the water. Claire shielded her eyes from the sun to watch him more easily. He was pudgy, but from this angle, Claire mostly saw his balding head. After leaning over to examine several sites, he lowered a bucket on a rope into the river.
    “Ah. My colleague Sergei Oretsky. There’s a sewage outlet there, into the river.”
    “A sewage outlet?”
    “Indeed. He’s collecting the outflow.”
    “You two work together?”
    “Oh, no. I work with the Stantons. Oretsky’s in a different department. His own department. But I assure you, he’s a charming man.”
    “Don’t tell me, he’s trying to find new medicines in the sewage?”
    “Precisely. He’s searching for bacteriophages. Viruses that kill infectious bacteria.”
    “Is he having any success?”
    “Some, I believe. He’s from Russia originally. His family managed to escape to Paris after the