The Libra Affair (24 page)

“Thanks for making me feel better last night,” Isbel said when Jordan reentered the cabin.

“No problem.”

“No, I mean it. You didn't have to be so nice.” Isbel paused. “But I'm glad you were. I guess that's what it's like having a mother … or a big sister.”

“We all need someone to lean on in a tough spot.” Jordan lightly touched Isbel's shoulder hoping to end the conversation, then walked to the bed. There, she picked up the rumpled blanket, shook it, and threw it across the top of the mattress.

“Don't move!” Isbel said to her in a crisp voice.

Jordan turned. The girl was pointing her gun at a Persian leopard, indigenous to northern Iran, entering the cabin through the wide open door. The leopard was young and had not yet reached its full adult size, but its claws were deadly, and more importantly, where there was a young leopard, its mother was sure to follow.

Jordan mouthed the words, “Don't shoot,” and stood motionless.

The leopard advanced toward some bread lying on the side table next to the bed. The cat grazed the side of Jordan's leg as she padded her way toward the food. There, she clutched the piece of bread between her deadly jaws, and in a single chomp, it was gone. Turning, the cat headed toward Isbel seated at the small table.

Jordan motioned for Isbel to remain still, but the girl pushed a package of bread off the edge of the table.

Snarling, the leopard jumped back. She crouched defensively, then sniffed the air and inched forward to snag the bread.

Once the cat had the food between her jaws, Isbel cried, “Shoo, shoo,” and motioned with her hands for the leopard to leave.

The animal leapt backwards and scrambled out the door.

Jordan raced for her gun and made for the door. “Come on,” she told the girl.

“You think it's safe to go out?”

When they were outside, they heard a loud snarl.

“Get in!” Jordan shouted to Isbel as she pivoted around, raised her gun, and fired into the air above a mother cat and her two cubs.

The cats instantly scattered.

Jordan opened the back door to the Samand and jumped inside of it, then slid into the front seat.

“Are they gone?” Isbel searched through the window.

A few seconds later, the mother was at the window.

“Shoot it!” Isbel cried.

Jordan turned over the ignition. It wouldn't start. The mother pounced on the hood of the car and jumped at the windshield.

Isbel screamed.

Jordan honked the horn.

The cat swiped at the windshield again.

“Go, go,” Isbel cried.

Jordan tried starting the car again. The engine turned over and started. She put the stick in first and popped the clutch.

The cat jumped from the car and raced back to her cubs.

As Jordan started down the road, to make light of what had happened, she said, “Okay, that was fun.”

“Fun?” Isbel said, still catching her breath. “Why didn't you shoot that cat?”

“It's against the law,” Jordan told her.

“That cat was going to kill you!”

“No. She was only protecting her turf.” Jordan patted the girl's leg. “And for the record, I could have killed that leopard at any time, but I didn't want the cubs to be without their mother.” Then she smiled at the girl.

Jordan's cell phone rang.

It was Sonya. “We had a visitor this morning,” Sonya told her.

“Did you?” Jordan waited for the details.

“Officer Tavaazo.”

Jordan looked at the burn on her forearm and felt her anger rise. She knew exactly what Tavaazo was up to. And there wasn't a thing in the world she could do about it. The matter of Ben and Tavaazo now rested solely with Sonya.

“He's a persistent one, that little man,” Sonya said.

Jordan didn't want to have this conversation. She wanted to let it go. So she simply asked, “How's Ben?”

Sonya continued. “To tell you the truth, I'm surprised the idiot hasn't figured out who your boy really is.”

“He's incognito at the moment,” Jordan replied.

“Bruises, beard, new name,” Sonya said. “That won't last long.”

“Yes, well, the authorities aren't looking for a married man with a kid. They're looking for Ben Johnson, who used Gustav Kominski's Russian passport to get into the country.”

“He's Russian now. That makes him suspect.”

“Reza Ahed is a Russian diplomat,” Jordan pointed out. “With immunity.”

“As long as he stays quiet, he can play Russian, but the moment he speaks English, that's it.”

“Then keep him quiet.”

“I'm trying.”

“Drug him.” Then Jordan changed the subject. “Have you delivered the funds to the doctor?”

“Done.”

“Just don't forget, you're a woman. He could still turn on you,” Jordan warned her.

“That's not going to happen. Oh, and it looks like we have visitors again.” Sonya disconnected the call.

A short distance down the road, Isbel turned to Jordan. “Is he okay?”

“What's that?” Jordan was lost in thought.

“Ben,” the girl said.

“Yeah, yeah, he'll be fine.”

“When will he get out of the hospital?”

“I'm not sure.”

“He's lucky. Don't you think?”

“Yeah, he's lucky,” Jordan replied, then glanced out the side window. The desert seemed to go on forever. It was barren, silent, and this wasn't a conversation she wanted to have. So she asked, “Would you like to listen to the radio?”

Isbel studied Jordan's blank expression before she reached for the dial. A song or two played. Then she started up about Ben again. “You know, back at the hospital, he kept saying something. It was right after surgery. I think he was trying to tell you something, like he needed something, because he kept saying your name.”

Jordan glanced at Isbel. She didn't want to talk about Ben. She didn't want to think about him. And yet, he remained ever-present in her thoughts.

Isbel continued. “I didn't quite understand, he kept saying something like — ” the girl tried imitating the words in English “ — Jordan I should have … I should have … ”

And though Isbel butchered the pronunciation Jordan understood what the girl was trying to say. After Isbel gave it a few more attempts, Jordan had had enough. “Don't take this the wrong way,” she said, “but I don't want to talk about Ben.”

“I understand.” The girl turned toward her side window. “That's how I felt about leaving Baba.”

In silence, they had traveled the length of the highway, passing through the straights of the semi-desert region and down and around the barren range of mountains that sheltered Mashhad from the rest of the country. The holy city was the second-largest city in Iran and was now coming into view.

Jordan's plan was to take the bypass and avoid the city altogether, but as they neared the exit, a closed construction site blocked the way. “Looks like roadwork ahead,” she announced. “We'll have to cut through the city.”

And as soon as they exited the highway and entered the city, Isbel happily announced, “It's Mahdi. Did you know?”

“Yes,” Jordan replied.

“I wish we could go.”

“It's not possible.”

“I know, but I still wish we could.” Isbel sat glued to the window.

People were filling the streets. And later that night, elaborate lights displays covering both buildings and homes would illuminate the city with every color of the rainbow. Fireworks would light the sky. And the masses would come together to worship.

“Do you know Mahdi?” Isbel asked. “It's the birthday of Imam Mahdi. The final Imam of twelve.”

“Yes.”

“Did you know Imam Mahdi didn't die?”

Jordan was well versed in the beliefs of the Middle East, but let the girl speak.

“He was hidden by God — the Occultation — and later appeared as Isa,” the girl explained. “You know who Isa is, don't you?”

“Jesus Christ,” Jordan answered her.

The girl nodded. “We believe so much the same.”

“I think we all want the same,” Jordan said.

Isbel looked into the street. “Everyone is so happy,” she remarked. “See how they block off the streets for the people. The kids get free candy and fruit.”

“I'm sure it's fun.”

“I don't know why I said I'd like to go, I couldn't get around with my leg.” She reached to rub her leg just above the top of the cast.

“Is your leg bothering you?”

“Yeah.” Isbel grimaced. “It seems to be.”

“I'll get you some medicine when we stop.”

“I didn't really notice until now.”

Jordan studied the girl's face; she was flushed. “We'll take off the cast and clean it up a bit.”

“The pins bother me.”

“You can watch the fireworks from our room. I think we'll have a view,” Jordan said to make her feel better.

When they reached the room, Isbel immediately said, “Can I lie down first?”

Jordan helped her into bed. “We need to clean your leg up,” she told her.

“I don't feel so good,” the girl said. “Let me rest a bit.”

“Okay, rest for a while.”

“Thanks.” The girl immediately closed her eyes.

When Isbel was situated, Jordan went to the closet near the door. There, she found the case the Chinese had left her, containing the equipment she needed: gas masks, grenades, smokers, and a couple of automatic machine guns with plenty of ammo.

“My head hurts,” Isbel said. “And my leg.”

Jordan walked to her side.

“How long are we staying here anyway?” Isbel looked up at Jordan, still wearing her expression of pain.

“Not long.” She kept it brief. “We'll head to Turkmenistan soon.”

“Oh,” Isbel sounded deflated.

“Don't worry.”

“I don't feel so well,” Isbel said again.

Jordan stepped closer to the girl. Isbel's face was red, splotchy. “I think I better have a quick look at your leg.” The instant the cast was removed, Jordan saw the telltale pattern of red striations; a serious infection was setting in.

“Let me get you some medication.” Jordan opened Isbel's bag and searched for the medication, but it wasn't there. “Is your medication in the bag?”

“I think so.” Isbel sat upright and wrapped her arms around her stomach. She rocked back and forth, trying to comfort herself. “Try the pocket,” she suggested.

Jordan searched more, but found nothing. “Are you sure? I don't see any of your medications in here.” Then she returned to Isbel's side just as the girl sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh, no!” Isbel's eyes darted up to meet Jordan's.

“What?”

Isbel stilled. “I just remembered.”

“Remembered what?” Although, Jordan didn't have to ask — the reality of Isbel's “oh no” was coming into clear focus.

“I think I left the bottles back at the cabin.”

“I gave them to you to pack. Where'd you put them?”

“I think I left them in the bathroom.” Isbel whimpered. “I need the pain medicine.” Her face contorted with pain.

“We'll figure something out.”

Isbel started to rock again.

Jordan was concerned that the girl's name was printed on the medicine bottles. But then, it wasn't likely that anyone would find the bottles, not anytime soon, and not at a cabin rented for another month. The bigger problem they faced was finding more medicine. There wasn't time enough to return to the cabin, and with the holiday celebration well underway, many of the shops were closing early.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked the girl.

Isbel touched her leg where the pins were located. “Mostly here,” she said, pointing to the areas of infection.

Jordan felt Isbel's forehead. “You're hot.”

“I feel cold.”

“You have a fever. Come on, we need to get you under the covers.” Jordan refastened the cast and hurried to find Isbel some drinking water. She handed the girl the glass. “I don't imagine you're feeling too hungry?”

“Not really.” As soon as Isbel finished the water and returned the glass to Jordan, she let go and flopped down to the bed. “Maybe later.”

“I'm going to go find you some medicine,” Jordan said softly. “I'll be back.”

Isbel closed her eyes.

“While I'm gone, no matter what, do not open the door,” Jordan said. “Do you understand me?”

Isbel opened her eyes and said, “Okay.”

“Don't go anywhere. Don't do anything. Just stay here in bed.”

“All right.” The girl closed her eyes.

Jordan knew the infection was serious because the girl went from alert to having no strength whatsoever in such a short period of time. Isbel needed antibiotics more than the pain medication. Jordan had to find a drugstore that was open.

She pulled out her satellite phone and dialed up the Internet. The Falcon 9 was still on schedule, which meant nothing could stop her from getting to the silo.

• • •

Dr. Hamin and his nurse entered Ben's room. The doctor was unusually tall for an Iranian man and he carried an air of no-nonsense.

Sonya rose to greet them.

“How is our patient doing?” the doctor asked.

“He's still confused, but he's coming around,” Sonya told him, then she followed the doctor to Ben's side.

Ben stirred when he heard their voices and opened his eyes.

“Is there any way to know when he'll be released?” Sonya asked the doctor.

“I'm not sure,” Dr. Hamin replied. “Let's have a look and see how he's doing.” The nurse raised the sheet and lowered Ben's gown. Then the doctor examined the bandages — they weren't ready to come off — and probed Ben's abdomen and stomach.