Chapter Text
Friday, 19th July
The mystery woman in Bay 7 briefly opened her eyes then closed them again. Nurse Joyce Ndungu, passing the bed, paused and signalled with her hand to her colleague, Sister Mariam, who, catching the reference to the patient, moved across the ward to join her. The mysterious blonde woman had been transported to the Madina Hospital from the airport following an attack by Al-Shabaab. She had been dressed in white jeans and a blue T-shirt, both ripped to shreds, but unlike the other travellers caught on the fringes of the bomb blast, they had found no passport or luggage with her or anywhere near her, so their theory was that she must have been meeting someone rather than travelling herself. But what could an attractive, middle aged white woman be doing alone in Mogadishu?
Sister Mariam sent Nurse Ndungu off on other duties and sat next to the bed. The patient’s eyelids fluttered again, then her eyes opened. Sister Mariam was surprised to find that, instead of the blue eyes she had been fully expecting to see, this woman’s eyes were dark brown, warm, but quickly registering alarm. Mariam gently touched her hand.
“Don’t panic”, she said softly in English, “you are safe in hospital, in Madina Hospital, in Mogadishu. No one will hurt you here”.
This was not strictly true since Al-Shabaab had no compunction about hitting hospitals, hotels, airports, anywhere they could find foreigners and members of the Somali government. But Mariam was relying on the fact that after two bomb attacks just four days ago, and the loss of a suicide bomber and several of their more reckless fighters, Al-Shabaab wouldn’t be up for hitting the Madina Hospital any time soon.
“What happened to me?” the woman asked weakly.
“You have been unconscious for four days. We have tested you for head injuries but fortunately there is nothing serious apart from concussion and some bumps and bruises. We have removed shrapnel from your legs and you have lost some muscle. It will take time to heal.”
There was a silence, and Mariam realised that the woman was waiting for the really bad news, which is why she had paused.
“And you had internal injuries, we had to remove your spleen”, she said quietly.
“Ah”, the woman said. Nothing more, from which Mariam deduced that the patient understood only too well what she was telling her.
“How long have I been here? she asked.
“Four days. The bomb attack was on Monday – now it’s Friday.”
“Mmm”, the woman said. She seemed confused, and Mariam made a note to call the neurological consultant down again to re-check. Well, it couldn’t do any harm, she thought, better safe than sorry.
“Do you remember what you were doing at the airport?” Mariam asked.
“At the airport? No, I…..” the woman seemed suddenly agitated, and Mariam patted her hand.
“Never mind, questions later. Do you have a name we can call you?”
The woman hesitated and after seeming to deliberate, she said “Berenice”.
“Oh that’s a lovely name”, Mariam said, smiling broadly. “I’m pleased to meet you, Berenice, I’m Sister Mariam.”
***
Major Alex Dawson paced restlessly in front of her commanding officer at the UN Headquarters. Her insides seemed twisted all out of shape. For four days, since being released from medical care with only minor injuries, she had been searching for Bernie in the rubble of the UNSOS Level II Hospital, where Al-Shabaab had detonated a massive bomb in a truck driven by a suicide bomber.
“It’s been four days, Colonel”, she said in despair. “And you’re telling me that there are no traces of Major Wolfe? I know she must have been in the building.”
“She’s still officially MIA,” Colonel Max de Vries responded wearily, “along with about 20 other people. We are waiting for the forensic results of human remains collected from the bomb scene.”
It had been carnage. Alex had been the chief medical support officer with a detail returning from a patrol in another part of the city when the bomb exploded. Her colleagues had managed to stop the truck just short of the UNSOS hospital and they had taken shelter, but had not escaped entirely unscathed. All Alex had been able to think about was Bernie. How she had persuaded Bernie, then working for UNSOS at the Aga Khan University Hospital in Nairobi, to join their team providing medical support for the UN Peacekeeping Force in Somalia and training local doctors in trauma techniques. Bernie had barely been there a week, in fact. Not even enough time for her luggage to have arrived from Nairobi.
“When will the results come in?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “We had to send all to Nairobi now that our lab has been destroyed. They said this evening.”
She met his steady gaze. “Colonel, if we cannot trace Major Wolfe by then, I must request leave to go and inform her family. We were …very close”.
He nodded. He hadn’t slept for two nights and was functioning on a combination of caffeine and amphetamines. As the Director of Medical Services for UNSOS based in Mogadishu, the attack on his support hospital was a massive blow to operations. From Mogadishu, UNSOS also supported centres in other parts of Somalia and had partnerships with hospitals in Kenya, which is how Bernie Wolfe had rejoined the Army and got posted to the UN Peacekeeping Force. The fact that Al Shabaab, after detonating the massive truck bomb at UNSOS, had run down the road to the International airport and exploded an IED and thrown a few grenades about just complicated matters even more. Now they were short of a functioning airport to fly supplies in. In fact, he also had four soldiers missing from that attack, who had gone to the airport to collect a shipment.
Colonel de Vries sighed and poured himself another cup of coffee, which, at least, was in plentiful supply.
***
Sister Mariam was completing her notes on the mystery patient, Berenice, when the figure of Dr. Chiara Petrelli loomed up in front of her desk.
“Is there a problem, Sister?” she asked in her charming Italian accent.
Mariam felt her face getting warm. “No, not exactly, but I wanted to recheck the patient’s responses now that she is conscious. We know she has no serious head injuries but she seems confused”.
“Very well, Sister, come along and introduce me, please. I am looking forward to learning more about your mystery blonde”, and she gave Mariam a smile that warmed a path all the way to her toes.
Mariam stepped briskly over to Bay 7.
“Berenice”, she said, gently, “This is Dr. Petrelli, she’s the neurosurgeon who checked your head injuries. She’d like to talk to you now that you’re awake”.
Berenice nodded.
Chiara perched informally on the side of the bed and ran through the usual tests to see whether there was any cognitive damage from the head trauma.
“Mm, your eyes are fine, you’re not dizzy. Now can you tell me who is President of the United States?”
Berenice groaned. “Donald Duck”, she answered quickly. “No..er sorry, I mean Trump”.
Chiara grinned broadly and winked at Mariam. “The first answer might have been the best one”, she laughed.
“And where are you from?”
Berenice hesitated only a second before replying. “The UK”.
“Yes, we could tell from your accent”, Mariam smiled.
“And what were you doing at the airport?”
Berenice shook her head impatiently, she had an anguished look in her eye.
“That’s it. I don’t know. I can’t remember. I know I had something important to do but I don’t know what it was.”
“Where do you live in Mogadishu, Berenice?” asked Chiara.
Berenice again shook her head and looked blank.
“And do you know your family name?”
The patient looked anguished, but could not supply an answer.
"You see, Berenice”, Mariam said, as gently as she could, “we found you in the airport after the bomb attack with no bag, no passport, no ID. We need to know who you are so that we can notify your friends or family.”
Berenice looked distressed, but it was clear that she could not access sufficient memory to help them at that point.
“Don’t worry”, smiled Chiara, patting her arm reassuringly. “It will come back to you. In the meantime you need to rest from your surgery so take it easy and we can talk again tomorrow.”
Doctor and Senior Nurse walked back together to the Ward Sister’s desk.
“This is just temporary, I’m sure”, Chiara said. “It’s a kind of shock, it should wear off in a few days we hope.”
“Could you come back tomorrow, Doctor?” asked Mariam anxiously.
“Sister, I am happy to come every time you call me”, Chiara smiled mischievously, tossing her short chestnut hair, laughter in her eyes.
Good grief, what is happening to me? thought Mariam in near panic. Every time she smiles at me like that I think my heart will melt.
“Non ti preoccupare, don’t look so worried”, Chiara added. “I’m sure the patient will be fine. She seems to be regaining strength and awareness very quickly”.
“Yes, yes, that’s right, I agree,” blustered Mariam.
“So I’ll come back down tomorrow afternoon when I can get away”, Chiara said, giving a little wave and heading for the stairs.
***
Colonel de Vries rubbed his eyes and reread the forensic report that had just come in from Nairobi. A thorough search of the damaged living quarters and destroyed hospital lab and operating theatres revealed no sign of any genetic material from Major Berenice Wolfe. She was one of only 3 missing on-duty officers whose presence had not been detected. The chances of finding her now were remote. Resigning himself to the inevitable, de Vries dialled the number for the hotel where UNSOS staff were being temporarily accommodated.
“Major Dawson, there’s a transport going to Addis at 08.00 hours. I’ve cleared the paperwork and booked you an onward seat. I suggest you start packing”.