Riders of the Pale Horse (30 page)

The thought was that this young man would change her entire life, if only she would let him in.

By the end of the week, Wade's presence in the clinic was an established fact. He worked the long hours, accepted the basic conditions and standard fare and lack of pay without complaint. Constant emergencies and an overworked staff soon dissolved his restrictions. He moved freely through the men's and children's wards, carefully avoiding the women's rooms out of respect for the clinic codes. This too won looks of approval from the other staff. He handled medicines with precision, gave careful attention to duties both major and menial, accepted orders without argument, yet also showed he could think on his own. By week's end, even Dr. Shannon greeted him with a smile.

The mysterious errand that had brought this young man to Aqaba was much discussed. Opinions varied. Some thought him foolish, Ali included. Many of the nursing staff, however, took note of his abilities and his quiet demeanor, and accepted his single-minded determination as just another part of his makeup.

Wade was assigned to the morning shift, which was by far the busiest; it included both breakfast and lunch, the doctor's morning rounds, surgery prep, processing new patients, bathing and cleaning and dressing wounds. Wade finished sometime between two and five each afternoon, depending on how the day progressed. Then he returned to his room, changed clothes, rested, ate, and began his endless searching in the cool of the dying day.

He had registered his complaint with the local police, whose only interest was sparked by the idea of one American following another American from Russia to the tail end of Jordan. Now he mostly walked and looked—and daily resisted giving in to the futility of his search.

Dr. Shannon called Wade in after the clinic's Sunday worship service and asked him to be seated. “I have heard, as has everyone here, that you are here looking for another American who stole a truck from you in Russia.”

Wade nodded reluctantly.

“And you really think the man you seek is here?”

“It's all I have to go on.”

“He told you himself where he was going?”

“No.” Wade hesitated, then added, “It was one of his companions.”

“Then he's not alone?”

“I'm not sure, but I don't think so.”

Ben Shannon examined him carefully. “The Arabs are the world's experts at saying much through the silences between words, so I have become skilled at listening for what is not being said. I have the distinct impression that you are leaving out more than you are telling.”

Wade tensed, then forced himself to relax. “I have told you all I can.”

“Tell me this,” Ben insisted. “Is it possible that your search could endanger this clinic?”

Again there was the inward struggle, then Wade conceded, “Rogue Robards is a very powerful man.”

It was Ben's turn to deliberate. “You are one of the finest nurses I have ever had occasion to work with. That much is clear after just five days. And it is true that the workload here is pushing us beyond our limits. But before I can allow you to remain, I must have your solemn word that you will do everything possible not to endanger our work.”

“You have it,” Wade replied earnestly.

“Wait, there's more.” Ben bore down on him. “I also have the impression that more is involved than just a stolen truck. If I am to trust you with the lives of my patients, I feel I have a right to ask what this is.”

Wade dropped his eyes to his hands and replied quietly, “I'm sorry, but I just can't tell you.” Wade knew he needed help, but to share his secret with a man so closely linked to the Arabs was a risk he dared not take.

The ensuing silence forced Wade to raise his gaze. To his surprise, he found the doctor with bowed head and closed eyes, enshrouded in a veil of stillness. Eventually Ben opened
his eyes and spoke calmly. “Tuesdays and Thursdays I make rounds within the local camps. I want you to come and assist. I want you to observe me very carefully. After you have gone with me, if you decide that I am worthy of your trust, I ask that you tell me what you are leaving unsaid. However, if you feel that I cannot be trusted with your secret, then I must ask you to leave at the end of the week.”

“I guess I don't have any choice,” Wade said bleakly.

“On the contrary,” Ben replied. “Choice is all we are speaking of. For you, and for me.”

18

That night Wade accepted last-minute duty to replace an ill staff member. He slept late the next morning and ate his breakfast alone. Heavily burdened both by a sense of futility and the impending choice, Wade took a purposeless walk down into the souk. At the central square he took a table just inside the same shop's open doorway. When the same bored waiter appeared, he purchased his seat for the price of a glass of tea.

He sat and watched the dust drift in the brilliant sunshine, while various half-formed ideas flitted through his troubled mind. Overriding every thought was a feeling as intense as the rising heat—that it was all a mistake. That he had no business being there, and all would result in futility.

Which made the sound behind him even more shocking.

“You're making yourself a real nuisance, Sport,” said the unseen man. “There's a knife aimed at your gizzard. Calm and easy, now, I want you to—”

Wade acted without conscious thought. In a single electrified movement he threw his glass back over his shoulder and dived through the doorway.

Behind him echoed a roar of rage and pain. Wade did a three-point scramble in the dust, arms akimbo and legs flailing wildly, and fled down the nearest shop-lined alley.

Allison was just climbing into the clinic's battered Land Rover when a very dusty Wade came racing into view. “Where are you going?” he demanded breathlessly.

“Just our normal supply run to Amman. Why?”

“Take me with you,” he burst out. The focused power to his gaze shone with feverish intensity.

“What's the matter?”

“Please,” he said, pressing with more than just his words. “It's really important.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Allison had a sudden thought. “Did you find that man?”

Wade shot a glance over at the clinic's driver, who sat stoically behind the wheel. All he said was, “Please.”

Allison pondered briefly. It was standard policy for all clinic staff to be granted lifts wherever official business took anyone, so long as there was room. “We'll be stuffed to the gills on the way back.”

“No problem. I'm used to cramped quarters.”

She shrugged. “I guess it's okay, then.” She cast a glance over his rumpled form. “Do you want to change or anything?”

“No, I—” he stopped. “My passport! I'll be right back.”

Allison stared after his departing back and felt a faint tingle of alarm. The only place she could think of where a passport would be required was entry into the American Embassy.

Judith Armstead strode impatiently out of the US Embassy in Amman, crossed the dead space and entered the guardhouse, where all nonembassy personnel were required to sign in. She greeted her friend with, “What took you so long?”

“I was lunching with the ambassador and the foreign minister,” Cyril Price replied. “What on earth is the matter? Our meeting with Allison is not for another hour.”

“You'll see.” Judith managed a quick glance at her watch as Cyril surrendered his passport and signed the passbook. “Come on, we've got to get this finished before Allison shows up.”

He nodded his thanks as the marine guard waved him through the security gate, then crossed the open parking lot and hurried up the US Embassy stairs. “Don't tell me there's trouble.”

“I'm not saying another word,” Judith replied. She hustled her British counterpart through the main entrance, across the
foyer, and down the long hallway. “I want you to hear this straight from the horse's mouth.”

She opened the door leading to the small conference room and let Cyril enter first. Seated within was a decidedly scruffy young man, dusty and sweaty and clearly the worse for wear. But his expression was resolute, and he measured Cyril with a cautious eye.

“Wade Waters,” Judith began, “this is—well, let's just leave out any introductions for the moment, okay? This man is the primary contact in these parts for activities such as what you have been describing.”

“If I'm to trust him,” Wade replied, his voice as steady as his gaze, “I want to know who he is.”

“Cyril Price at your service,” Cyril said, taking a seat across from the young man. “Judith says you have something of interest to tell me. I have known Judith for a number of years and have learned to trust her implicitly.”

“Cyril's the real thing,” Judith said, seating herself beside Cyril. “Why don't you just take it from the top and tell him exactly what you told me.”

When Wade finished, Cyril sat in stunned silence. “I confess,” he said finally, “I am at an utter loss.”

A smile appeared on Judith's face. “That's a first.”

“Would you permit me,” Cyril asked, “to return to a few minor points?”

“Sure,” Wade replied.

“Judith, how much time before our next appointment?”

“Fifteen minutes, tops.”

“We shall simply have to reconvene another day. Would you mind returning to Amman later in the week, Mr. Waters?”

“If I have time off,” Wade replied. “And if I can find enough money for the trip.”

“That's right,” Cyril recalled. “You spent virtually every
cent you had after losing your truck in... What was the name of that town once again?”

“Beloti,” Wade replied. “About twenty-five kilometers north of Tskhinvali.”

“Ah, yes. And that is...”

“The capital of South Ossetia,” Wade replied. “A contested region currently held by Georgia.”

“You do not, I hope, take offense by my returning to such points,” Cyril said. “My memory, you understand—an attribute of age.”