Dorothy Stone had the nurse send up some Tylenol from the pharmacy. It did not help.
Mary’s secretary was concerned. “You really look awful. Madam Ambassador. You should be in bed.”
“I’ll be fine,” Mary mumbled.
The day had a thousand hours. Mary met with the students, some Romanian officials, an American banker, an official from the USIS—the United States Information Service—and sat through an endless dinner party at the Dutch embassy. When she finally arrived home, she fell into bed.
She was unable to sleep. She felt hot and feverish, and she was caught up in a series of nightmares. She was running down a maze of corridors, and every time she turned a corner, she ran into someone writing obscenities in blood. She could only see the back of the man’s head. Then Louis appeared, and a dozen men tried to pull him into a car. Mike Slade came running down the street yelling, “Kill him. He has no family.”
Mary woke up in a cold sweat. The room was unbearably hot. She threw off the covers and was suddenly chilled. Her teeth began to chatter. My God, she thought, what’s wrong with me?
She spent the remainder of the night awake, afraid to go to sleep again, afraid of her dreams.
It took all of Mary’s willpower to get up and go to the embassy the following morning. Mike Slade was waiting for her.
He looked at her critically and said, “You don’t look too well. Why don’t you fly to Frankfurt and see our doctor there?”
“I’m fine.” Her lips were dry and cracked, and she felt completely dehydrated.
Mike handed her a cup of coffee. “I have the new commerce figures here for you. The Romanians are going to need more grain than we thought. Here’s how we can capitalize on it…”
She tried to pay attention, but Mike’s voice kept fading in and out.
Somehow she managed to struggle through the day. Louis called twice. Mary told her secretary to tell him she was in meetings. She was trying to conserve every ounce of strength she had left to keep working.
When Mary went to bed that evening, she could feel that her temperature had climbed. Her whole body ached. I’m really ill, she thought. I feel as though I’m dying. With an enormous effort she reached out and pulled the bell cord. Carmen appeared.
She looked at Mary in alarm. “Madam Ambassador! What—?”
Mary’s voice was a croak. “Ask Sabina to call the French embassy. I need Dr. Desforges…”
Mary opened her eyes and blinked. There were two blurred Louis figures standing there. He moved to her bedside, bent down, and took a close look at her flushed face. “My God, what’s happening to you?” He felt her forehead. It was hot to the touch. “Have you taken your temperature?”
“I don’t want to know.” It hurt to talk.
Louis sat down on the edge of the bed. “Darling, how long has this been going on?”
“A few days. It’s probably just a virus.”
Louis felt her pulse. It was weak and thready. As he leaned forward, he smelled her breath. “Have you eaten something today with garlic?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t eaten anything in two days.” Her voice was a whisper.
He leaned forward and gently lifted her eyelids. “Have you been thirsty?”
She nodded.
“Pain, muscle cramps, vomiting, nausea?”
All of the above, she thought wearily. Aloud she said, “What’s the matter with me, Louis?”
“Do you feel like answering some questions?”
She swallowed. “I’ll try.”
He held her hand. “When did you start feeling this way?”
“The day after we got back from the mountains.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Do you remember having anything to eat or drink that made you feel ill afterward?”
She shook her head.
“You just kept feeling worse every day?”
She nodded.
“Do you eat breakfast here at the residence with the children?”
“Usually, yes.”
“And the children are feeling well?”
She nodded.
“What about lunch? Do you eat lunch at the same place every day?”
“No. Sometimes I eat at the embassy, sometimes I have meetings at restaurants.” Her voice was a whisper.