CHAPTER 1
Monday, January 12, 2009Valencia, about fifteen miles west of Santo Domingo
Luis, a go-getter bachelor businessman in his early forties, entered theoffice of Dr. Barone around noon. It was located on the first floor ofthe doctor's two-story stucco building.
This was Luis's second visit. He had been very successful in hiscommercial ventures. In his exuberance, he saw no limits to the pilesof money he would amass in the future—"the near future," he liked tosay. He probably wasn't that far off in his assessment; he worked long,irregular hours. But he also partied hard and lived the good life. Hespread the money around and unfortunately collected around him acrowd of fair-weather friends of both genders. Today, as he entered Dr.Barone's office, he just knew one of his female companions had gottenhim in trouble. Hard to say exactly which one, but he had to see Dr.Barone again.
"After the two positive Rapid tests of last week," the doctorexplained, "I now have the result of the Elisa test. It's more thoroughand reliable and ... it confirms that you carry the HIV virus."
Luis was speechless.
"It's not a death sentence; it can be controlled," the good doctorassured him, grabbing and shaking his right shoulder to encourage him."A strong, young man like you can fight this virus for many decades,very successfully. I always say it's a bit like living with diabetes."
The diagnosis was a blow to Luis, who sighed, desperate. "So it'strue ... HIV ... Maybe I can beat it, as you say, but the damn virus willruin my checkbook and my reputation. There goes my whole business."He saw the doctor smile. He wants to encourage me.
"Wrong, my friend. We can control the virus and help you keepyour reputation intact. Your finances may suffer a bit, but I understandyou have a good money cushion. Nobody has to know about your HIV.The assistance we can provide is complicated, hard work that never endsor slows down. It won't come cheap, but it can safeguard both yourhealth and your reputation."
"That sounds almost too good to be true, Doctor." Luis sighed,unconvinced.
Dr. Barone smiled again. He looked impressive and confident,also compassionate—the lanky, graying doctor, athletic, in his fifties, apicture of controlled serenity. "My friend, relax. And believe me. I knowwhat I'm talking about. Let me explain. A man of your means can payfor the best medicine. You don't have to take the cheap antiretrovirals,the crummy ARVs you can get free from the government. For those,I'd have to put you on their dreaded list where they give you a codenumber. It's a `secret' list but not much more so than the number ofmistresses the president of the country has at his disposal. Crooks willsell you the codes on that list. On the web. I'll keep you out of that kindof trouble and in good physical shape if you want me to."
"I want you to," Luis hurried to answer.
"Of course you do. That's always the immediate answer. But youmust understand a couple of things before you say yes." The doctor satdown.
"Go ahead, tell me. I'll beat this damn beast. It's my frigging body."
"It sure is. Good attitude. Now these are the damages: a good dealof money, and you'll have to follow strict rules, always, no exceptions,for the rest of your life. A long life. I bet we can make it that."
"Rules?"
"I'll explain. Let's talk about the money first." The doctor shiftedhis body a couple of times in his armchair before he continued. "Iknow you've got the resources, so I can speak frankly and concretelyoff the bat. Medicines will be expensive. Figure 10,000 dollars a year.Most of it will have to be cash. First-class material they are, these pills,and nobody will ever know you're on them; I take care of that. Nextcomes testing, finding out how your viral load is evolving. If it goes up,you get sicker. If down, better. Got it? We want to get it so far downthat our tests don't find the virus anymore. Just like Magic Johnson.We test you every three months, not the ordinary six-month routine.Five hundred dollars each time, plus some extra because I'll get youin there for testing at late hours, when nobody else is around, throughour secret side entrance. Well hidden. Overtime and hush money. Allsecret. People must be paid."
"My health is worth it, Doctor, and the discretion is of paramountimportance to me. In my line of work ..."
"The discretion doesn't come free either, Mr. Flores, Luis. I've justput in a call for Carla to come over. Carla Fuentes. She should be herewithin fifteen minutes. Who's Carla? Smile, man. A gorgeous woman,if you ask me, a good soul, and a perfect coach for you to keep thatdiscretion assured. She'll encourage you and tell you how to adhere verywell to your treatment schedule. She'll also be accessible 24/7 to handleyour questions about what to do and what not, in order to protectyour secret. At some point, you may feel threatened by inappropriatequestions or insinuations, or by unexpected comments on your behavioror appearance, or on your working and drinking habits. You may evenlet something slip. That's where she comes in, and—"
"I understand," Luis interrupted, getting impatient. "Hand-holding."
"Call it what you want. A soft hand, I'd say, belonging to an angel;you'll see. But angels don't come cheap. Carla's first class. She workswith our community support organization. It guides its members,such as Carla; it controls their work, updates their skills, keeps themmotivated and, ultimately, protects you. I'd like you to see our group'smission as comprehensive, private care of the highest standard, drivento perfection. When I say comprehensive, I'm talking about: the medsI mentioned, of the highest quality; tests perfectly done with highfrequency, discretion, and flexibility; personal coaching and counseling;legal advice; message and response formulation, etc. Our `protectiveveil' provides complete peace of mind. We're proud of our capabilitiesand performance. The organization will of course charge you a fee, ofwhich Carla will get a part."
And he too. Great sales pitch, well-rehearsed and delivered. But Imust ... "Okay ... How much?"
"For each case we agree to take on, the fee is set by a coordinatorfor the Santo Domingo region. He takes into account such factors asthe financials of the patient, the importance and vulnerability of hissocial status, the daily business activities of the patient and the level ofcomplications these activities can lead to, and the extent to which weexpect the particular patient himself to proactively cooperate in his ownprotection scheme. The latter is a judgment call. Then we have—"
"So when will I know how much?"
"Let's have you see Carla first," the doctor suggested with anotherencouraging smile and a wink. "Meanwhile, I'll talk to the coordinator.Come with me, in this small room. Operation Discretion starts now."
Luis had been sitting in the special room for about ten minuteswhen Carla breezed in through a door he hadn't even noticed, hismind far away from there. She looked radiant, a picture of health, earlyforties, smooth olive skin, confident and reassuring, her sleek, raven,shoulder-length hair flying freely around her cheeks. She greeted Luiswith a long embrace. That was a surprise but also a welcome consolationto Luis.
"Mr. Flores, Luis, I'm here to protect you," she said as she sat down,sounding and looking confident. "And I know how to. Discretion andcaring, that's us; that's me. I'm your friend; you can lean on me. I helppeople, day in, day out. Very rewarding work."
Luis was overwhelmed by the whirlwind of positive wordsemanating from between Carla's full lips and circulating through thesmall room for the next ten minutes. Her phrases filled the smallspace with hope, although he also discovered new grounds for fearand apprehension as he listened to her. Above all, he welcomed Carla'sencouraging suggestions as they rained down on him. A soft, soothingdrizzle. He decided to put his lot in her hands. These hands look softindeed. The doctor seemed to know how soft.
"Carla," Luis volunteered, "you're a godsend. My life collapsedtwenty minutes ago. But I'll rebuild it, with your help."
She didn't answer but stood up slowly, flaunting her tall body, rightcurves in right places, and smiled confidently, her eyes trained on Luis."I'll help you," she said as she walked up to him. She bent down, soher lips touched his sideburns and almost his left ear, and whispered,"I'll care for you."
Even under all this stress, Luis couldn't help noticing her impressivecleavage.
At that moment, he heard a cough. Dr. Barone had entered theroom. He carried a sheet of paper. His glasses sat low on his nose.
"Hi, Carla. Good you made it here so soon. I see you met Mr.Flores."
"We met, Doctor. Indeed. I'll take good care of him. I think he fitswonderfully in my group of patients."
Dr. Barone looked at Carla and said, "Could you leave me withMr. Flores for a minute?"
"Of course, Doctor. I'll be at the reception," she answered and leftthe room, throwing a little smile at Luis.
"Well," the doctor continued, "I have some good news. I gotour coordinator down to three thousand dollars a month. Cash." Heglanced quickly at Luis and hurried to go on. "That includes additionalcharges for late visits here and in testing rooms. You're lucky that Carlalikes you in her group. She can be picky. I'm sure you'll rank high onher list of favorite patients."
"Three thousand?" Luis groaned, incredulous.
The doctor frowned, looked over his glasses, leaned his head forward,and lowered his voice to add, "I stuck my neck out for you. I told thecoordinator you would be a case without much social complication.Straight case. Favorite case. That's how I got him down so much."
Luis took a deep breath and exhaled. He whispered, "I must dosomething. I don't want to end up on the damn government list or ingraffiti on neighborhood walls ... Okay ... Worst deal I ever made. Butwhat's my choice?" He put his head in his hands, his elbows weighingdown on the table, and he felt the doctor's hand on his back.
"Other services charge more. Believe me, my friend. And we'refirst class."
Dr. Barone called Carla back in and said, "He's in your capablehands, Carla. This man counts on us. On you."
Carla looked at Luis and then answered, "Mr. Flores will be a goodpatient. I already know. He's going to be just fine."
After the meeting, Carla walked Luis out of the room through theback door and then across the parking lot to his car, her right arm lowaround him, comforting him.
Luis felt her hand on his waist, a balm on his wounds.
Standing behind his car, out of sight from the front door, Carlakissed Luis good-bye on the cheek and said, "I'll call you tonight. Let'sshoot for six o'clock. We must get going right away. Your first days arethe most critical and dangerous ones. No experience yet." She touchedhis chin briefly with her index finger.
Luis was half-dazed and said a quick thank-you before he openedhis car door.
As Carla walked away, her gait elegant and confident, he keptgazing at her, the person who would have to be his guardian angel formany years. She doesn't look back. Maybe she's already thinking aboutthe next patient.
CHAPTER 2
Carla called Dr. Barone from her car. I like this Luis. What a chest. Andeyes. "I really think he fits in my group, Doctor."
"No doubt," he said. "I noticed when I walked in."
"Oh, please ..."
"No, I know that keeping those patients under control can be likemaking cats march in a line, but you can do it. This one will last; hehas good money."
"I'm glad you fixed these administrative matters with thecoordinator, Doctor. I don't want to hear about the money. I haveenough on my plate."
Dr. Barone disregarded Carla's reaction and enthusiastically wenton, "We've got him on a starter fee, our normal practice. Once we knowmore detail about him, his business contacts and his finances, we mayraise his contribution. `Special, unexpected challenges we encounterwith you, Luis. Sorry.' He'd have a hard time dropping out. He'll besmart enough to realize that in that case we could make life reallymiserable for him. And he'll understand that in order to do that wewouldn't have to violate any professional rule or run into trouble withany government agency."
As if I don't know, Carla thought as she pictured the doctor's grin.She said, irritated, "Doctor, I just told you I don't want to get involvedin money matters." Then, recovering, she joked, "As long as I get myoutrageously high salary and raises. Talk to you soon. Bye."
I'll kick off the program tonight. Not a day to waste. The sooner I start,the less trouble down the road. She would have to start telling Luis thetricks of not infecting any other person and of the best approaches tokeeping HIV secrets away from nosy neighbors, relatives, colleagues,friends, officials, loan officers, employment agencies, architects, contractadministrators, and many more. As an accomplished psychologist, shefelt she deserved every penny of the good sum she earned each month,and her premium for keeping patients enrolled. She was providing auseful and caring service. "It isn't my fault that antidiscriminationlaws aren't enforced," she would often say. "I help the victims of thatsituation avoid and deal with most of the disastrous consequences ofthose shameful practices."
* * *
From her little office, Silvia had heard slivers of the initial conversationbetween Dr. Barone and Luis. She was a physician, an assistant to thedoctor. She was also his sometime replacement. Dr. Barone hadn'tshared Luis's test results with her. That wasn't a total surprise, but a bitunusual. So was the fact that she had seen Luis disappear in the small,private room. A patient with money. Half an hour later, as she lookedout over the parking lot, she observed Luis and Carla walking together.She saw, from her corner window on the side of the small building, thatCarla kissed Luis good-bye. She noticed the Audi 8 he drove away in.She was sure Dr. Barone had made a diagnosis of HIV infection. Theritual had told her.
And she's driving this fancy BMW. On a counselor's salary?
Silvia had to admit she felt jealous for a moment. She barely scrapedby on the alms she was earning there. But she also knew that Carla did agood job of coaching and that this was tough work most of the time.
CHAPTER 3
Friday night, March 20, 20 09The Malecón in Santo Domingo
Luis stepped out of his flashy white Audi, stood up straight, adjusted hisbelt, ran his fingers through his long, dark mane, and dangled his carkeys in front of the valet parking assistant at the Vesuvio restaurant. Hefelt the warm, humid sea breeze hitting his face. He patted the doormanon the shoulder as he walked in and winked at him as he asked whetherhis friend Carla had arrived yet.
In fact, Luis knew Carla was waiting inside for him and that, whenhe would get to her table, she would demonstratively look at her watch.Then she would look at him, and her lovely eyes would say, "Again." Butshe would give the impression she understood when his muffled voicewould tell her in the packed restaurant that he couldn't just walk awayfrom a meeting where unscrupulous merchants were trying to cheathim out of four million pesos. He had hit on tough times; his profitshad tumbled lately. He would hold her gaze as he would speak, andshe would look for his hand to squeeze it. She would tell him he wouldsurvive, as he always had. She'd told him many times she admired hissmarts.
Carla spotted him first.
"Hello, darling. Sorry," Luis said almost perfunctorily, half-absent,still absorbed in the misery of his meeting half an hour ago. He lookedaround for any friends or acquaintances amongst the restaurant patronstonight. Once he had surveyed the field, he sat down.
"Mi caballero," she teased, "I thought you'd forgotten me, distractedby one of the gorgeous women in your meeting."
"Good thinking. Two of them. Barely made it here." He laughed.
"How are you feeling? Any nausea? Still eating well?"
