Saving Sophie: A Novel (41 page)

“Is Sami sure he will be assigned to deliver IV bags that day?”

“Of course, Arif. They deliver IV sets to hospitals every day.”

“But are we sure Sami will be assigned to deliver the IVs and not some other driver?”

Aziz smiled widely, showing a gap between his two front teeth. “It is all worked out, my friend. Mediterranean has three delivery trucks, two of which will unfortunately encounter mechanical difficulties. Do not concern yourself with the deliveries. Your responsibility was the manufacture of the poison. You have done well.”

“Thank you.”

“The poison,” Aziz asked with a sly grin, “will it cause a panic?”

“Oh, yes, it will.”

“And they will not discover the source immediately?”

“No, my friend, it has a slow incubation period. That’s the beauty. I myself have designed this organism. For a few days, the victim is totally unaware of the toxin. Most will have left the hospital and returned home before there are any signs. Then they’ll think they have the flu. After a few days, when the victim becomes very ill, it’s too late, the bacteria have done their work. No antidote, no antibiotic, can reverse the internal damage. And it’s unlikely the hospitals will ever discover that the toxins were contained in the IVs. They will have already disposed of the empty bags.”

“Arif, you are a genius.”

*   *   *

S
OPHIE SKIPPED ALONG THE
sidewalk, Bashir close behind. He smiled warmly at her. “You are so much like your mother. Full of boundless joy.”

“Did you know my mother?”

“Oh, child, I walked with her as I walk with you. When I shut my eyes, it is as though I have picked up little Alina from her madrassa
.
She skipped along just like you.”

“Did you love her?”

“Very, very much. I would have done anything to keep her from harm.”

Sophie looked down and kicked a stone on the sidewalk. “Why did she have to die?”

Bashir shook his head, but smiled. “She was so sweet that Allah must have wanted her close to him, to keep him company and make him smile.”

“Jaddi says she died because she had turned from Allah. He says she turned away from her faith.”

“Well, that is your jaddi. Myself, I do not believe it is true. Your mother was pure in heart and could never have offended Allah. She was sweet and loving.” He touched the tip of Sophie’s nose. “Just like you.”

“My mother used to call me her little butterfly.” Sophie looked up at Bashir. “Do you like butterflies?”

He looked down and nodded. “Oh, of course. But I do not see many in our part of Hebron. Perhaps because there are not many gardens.”

“I wish I was a butterfly.”

“But you are such a pretty girl, why do you want to be a butterfly?”

“They can fly so high. They can go wherever they like. Walls cannot stop them.”

They entered the home and al-Zahani greeted Sophie with a hug. “I have a chocolate for you.”

She sat on her grandfather’s lap and drank from a small cup. “I love Bashir. He is very kind.”

Al-Zahani smiled. “Kind and strong and brave.”

“Is he like a strong warrior?” Sophie took a sip of chocolate, leaving her with a brown mustache, which she wiped with the back of her hand.

“Exactly. Like a strong Canaanite warrior. Come with me, Sophie.” He held her hand and led her to the wall of the library. He pointed to a black-and-white photo of a smiling man in a white pillbox hat. He picked up the child and held her high so that she could get a good look.

“That is my beloved grandfather, Ibrahim al-Zahani, the greatest warrior of them all. He is your great-great-grandfather. His magnificent blood runs through your veins. For many years, he led our people and fought against our enemies. He even defended our homes right here in Hebron.”

“This home?”

“Well, not this very home, but our neighborhood. It was back in the summer of 1929. People were coming to our land from faraway countries. They wanted to settle here, even though it wasn’t their land. They were moving into our cities, buying up our homes, threatening to change our way of life. Many of them were Jews and did not worship Allah, and many of these Jews had come from Europe. They called themselves Ashkenazis. The grand mufti of Jerusalem warned them, told them not to come, told them to leave, but they would not listen. One day there was a fight outside the mosque in Jerusalem, and three Arab boys were killed. Arab families were afraid for their lives.

“The mufti sent Grandfather Ibrahim to Hebron. ‘Get the Ashkenazis out of Hebron,’ he ordered Grandfather. ‘Tell our people about the dangerous invaders. Protect our women and children.’ Ibrahim gathered the bravest warriors in Hebron and took up arms, whatever they had. Some had guns, but others only had clubs or axes. No matter. The Jews were no match for us. Many tried to hide, but Ibrahim found them all. Finally, the British police came and took the Jews from Hebron to Jerusalem. There were no more Jews left in Hebron. Ibrahim had done his job. He had made his mufti proud. That was called the great Hebron liberation.”

“Was Bashir one of those brave warriors?”

Al-Zahani laughed. “No, he was not even born yet. Neither was I.”

Al-Zahani pointed to another black-and-white photograph, this one of a man with his arm around a boy. “Do you know who these people are, Sophie?”

She shook her head.

“Well, that is my father, Hamid, your great-grandfather. Can you guess who he’s holding?”

Sophie pointed to Arif.

“Right! It’s me!” He planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“Was your father brave too?”

“Oh, child, the bravest of them all. He fought the British. He fought the foreign settlers. He fought alongside our warriors in 1948, and after we won, he was put in charge of the army battalion stationed right here in Hebron. He was a respected leader in our town. He built this house for us.”

“What happened to your father?”

“He was murdered by Israeli soldiers in 1967.”

“Were you very sad when he died?”

“I am still very sad. But I have vowed to carry on the ideals of my father and grandfather. To this day, I honor their memories.”

He turned and walked back to the sofa, where the cups of chocolate were placed. “Someday, Sophie, you will have the honor of carrying on the work of the al-Zahanis.”

S
IXTY
-S
IX

“M
ARCY?”

Curled up in the chair beside Jack’s hospital bed, Marcy awoke quickly. She smiled. “Hi,” she whispered in a sleepy voice. Reflexively, she scanned the patient monitor. His vitals were steady. “How are you feeling?”

“Groggy. A little achy. Just fine if I don’t move. Have you been here the whole time?”

“Pretty much.”

He smiled. “You just won’t give up.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

She scooted her chair close to the bed and reached for his hand. “I want you to get better so we can go climbing mountains in our sandals.”

Jack reacted with a short chuckle and grimaced from a sharp pain. “Where are Taggart and the State Department woman?”

“Oh, they’re still around. I’m sure they’ll come over today.”

“What day is it?”

“April eighth.”

“Wow. I’ve been asleep for three days.”

The nurse came into the room with her monitoring equipment, and Marcy stepped out. When she returned, they had raised Jack’s bed to a sitting position. He was sipping from a styrofoam cup. “The nurse told me that the doctor decided to take me off sedation. And he wants me to try to practice getting in and out of a wheelchair.”

Marcy pursed her lips. “I know. That was Kayla’s idea. I have to warn you, Kayla intends to fly you to Israel as soon as she can arrange it.”

“That’s good. I need to get to Sophie.”

Marcy shook her head. “The doctor doesn’t think so and neither do I. You had serious injuries and you lost a lot of blood. Don’t go yet. Just tell them you need a little more time.”

“I can’t. If I don’t cooperate, I won’t get any consideration from the court.”

“That’s right,” Kayla said, walking into the room, carrying a large purse and a newspaper. “I’m glad you understand.”

Liam followed her in.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Jack said.

“Sorry,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty.”

Kayla looked at his chart. “You’re improving.”

“Since when are you a doctor?” Jack said. “I hear you want me to go to Hebron right away.”

“I’m afraid I do.”

“When?”

Kayla pulled up a chair. “Soon. We’re waiting to hear that the arrangements have been made to exchange the money. It could be as soon as tomorrow.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Marcy said. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“Don’t, Marcy. I need to go when they want me to.”

“But you can’t even get out of bed.”

Jack shrugged. “The doctors told me they want me to sit in a wheelchair.”

“If you’re going, I’m going with you,” Marcy said.

Kayla shook her head. “She can’t go with us, Jack. It’s a dangerous mission.”

“He needs my help.”

“Talk to her,” Kayla said to Jack. “She doesn’t belong over there.”

“She’s right, Marcy. I need to do this myself.”

“I can help with Sophie. I’m her aunt Marcy.” Tears rolled out of her eyes and her jaw quivered. “Jack, look at you. You can barely sit up. Don’t shut me out of this, please.”

He shrugged. “Can she go part of the way, Kayla, as long as she stays out of danger? I’m not exactly marathon ready. Are
you
going to nursemaid me?”

Kayla paced by the foot of the bed. “It’s a bad idea. It’s a dangerous intelligence op. There’s just no room for you, Marcy. I’m sorry.”

Liam held up a hand. “Maybe we can work this out. Why don’t we let Marcy go part of the way, maybe to Tel Aviv. What harm can that do?”

Kayla thought for a moment and walked to the bedside. “All right, here’s the deal. If you’ll make the effort, do whatever you can to get yourself ready, even if we have to leave in a day or two, I’ll let Marcy go as far as Tel Aviv. Not all the way to Hebron.”

“Deal.” Jack held Marcy’s hand. “Now, if you two wouldn’t mind giving us a few minutes alone, there’s nothing that needs to be done right now.”

“Sure.” Kayla handed the Honolulu newspaper to Jack. “There’s something I want you to see first.” The newspaper was folded back to a story on page twelve entitled, “Suspect Killed in Prison Rumble.”

While Sommers read the story, Kayla said, “We thought it better to run a story that you died in a knife fight. They haven’t caught up with the two men in the Cadillac. The man who stabbed you, a Russian national on an expired student visa, isn’t talking. His lawyer and two other inmates swear that he acted in self-defense. So, officially, Eugene Wilson is dead.”

“Well, that’s the second time he’s died.” Jack put the paper down. “It’s freaky to read your own obituary.”

Kayla nodded. “I didn’t want either of you to be surprised. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Kayla and Liam left and shut the door behind them. In the hallway, Kayla said, “Thanks for your help in there. And I think you’re right. Marcy will be a calming influence until we have to go into Hebron.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, Catherine’s coming in this afternoon? Are you going shopping?”

“You’re being a little pushy, aren’t you?”

Kayla smiled. “I just don’t want to get to Hebron and have my partner all worried about his love life.”

“God, you are a tough woman.”

She shrugged.

When Kayla and Liam had left, Jack beckoned Marcy to sit down. “I know what you’ve been thinking, that everything is going to work out for the two of us, but the odds are stacked against us. Kayla’s right about the dangers. The Palestinians don’t want to exchange Sophie, they just want to see if they can make a quick score. They’ll try to kill me and take the money. I’ve already been stabbed in the back by a Russian, probably Dmitri’s man. And even if the exchange all worked out and I came back alive, it’s likely I’ll spend the next ten or twenty years in prison. I want us to be together as much as you do, but we need to look at the realities.”

“Gosh, Jack, I never considered any of that.”

“What’s wrong with you that you’re planning a future, a house and children, with a man who has no future?”

Marcy stood with her hands on her hips. “You sneak. You eavesdropped on me. You were pretending to be asleep.”

“Pretending?”

She smiled and pointed her finger. “Well, I’m just not going to accept a dead end. I’m going with you and I’m bringing you and Sophie back, and somehow this will work out.”

*   *   *

C
ATHERINE’S PLANE WAS DELAYED
for over four hours. She finally landed at Honolulu International at 7:30
P.M.,
thirteen hours after she took off from Chicago. Her watch, still on central daylight time, read 11:30
P.M.
The reunion with Liam at the baggage carousel was joyous and emotional. “I feel like it’s been a year since we’ve seen each other,” she said, with her arms around his neck.

“I’m so glad you decided to fly out. Why did you change your mind?”

“I heard something in your voice that I didn’t like. I just figured we had some talking to do.”

“Did Kayla call you?”

“What? What’s Kayla got to do with this?”

“Nothing. Just … never mind.”

“Is there something going on here, Liam?”

“No. Absolutely not. Kayla picked up on the fact that there was some tension between us, that’s all. Please don’t stress out about Kayla. She is strictly business. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry if I worried you on the phone. Are you hungry?”

“Starving! I refuse to buy that airplane food.”

“There’s a great outdoor grill at our hotel.” Liam gave her a squeeze, grabbed her suitcase, and led her out the door. “It’s so good to see you.”

Liam and Catherine sat at the Moana Surfrider’s grill studying the dinner menus. Behind them, waves broke loudly on the shore, and above them birds squawked in the palm trees. Ambient noise, loud enough to strain conversation. To Catherine Liam seemed to be more nervous than usual.