“I have work to do, Ali,” she replied automatically.
“I ate with him,” he announced. “We talked. He told me things.”
She resisted the urge to raise her head. “What things?”
“Things,” he repeated. “He comes from Russia.”
She had learned it was best not to show too much interest in what Ali had to say. If she did, he treated it as a negotiable property, only to be traded for something in return. “I already knew that.”
“Sure, Western Lady. But do you know he is here looking for a man?”
She inspected a paper she scarcely saw and replied in a bored tone, “I don’t think he mentioned that.”
“American man,” Ali confirmed. “Stole his truck. And medicines. This man Wade thinks is here.”
“Seems strange that he would follow another American from Russia to Aqaba,” she ventured idly, drawing designs on her pad.
“Yes, I think, too. Is crazy. Just another western man with no idea of where he go in life.” Ali turned from the door. “I tell Dr. Ben.”
Allison carried that bit of news and the look on Wade’s face with her through the rest of that day. She thought of it as she washed her face and brushed her hair. But it was only after turning out the light and climbing into bed that a new thought struck her. It came unbidden, and she could see no logical reason for it. But it came with such force that it left her shaken and unable to sleep.
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 t
o 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.”
“I understand perfectly,” Wade replied calmly. “I have spent more than a year in places where strangers are tested as a matter of habit.”
Cyril’s gaze turned keener. “Ah, yes. You were in Grozny, I believe.” And with that he switched to a passable Russian. “You were no doubt instructed in the local tongue.”
“Many of the locals,” Wade countered, also in Russian, “would dispute your calling this language their own.”
“Indeed,” Cyril said, returning to English. “Most interesting. Well, I suppose that brings us to asking for a description of the three men.”
“Four,” Judith corrected. “Don’t forget the American. I was just finishing up the descriptions when you arrived.”
Wade asked, “Is there any chance you could find me a job or something where I can earn my keep?” Swiftly he explained the problem with Ben Shannon.
“It so happens that I know Dr. Shannon,” Cyril replied, avoiding any eye contact with Judith. “Quite well, as a matter of fact. I shall write a note for you to carry back with you to clear things up.”
“That would be great,” Wade said, visibly relieved.
“If I were in your position,” Cyril went on, “I should trust Ben Shannon with everything you know. He is both well connected and extremely trustworthy.”
“I was worried that somebody that close to the locals might pass the word.”
Both Cyril and Judith shook their heads to that. “Not a chance,” Judith stated flatly.
“I quite agree,” Cyril said. “Ben Shannon positively loathes the activities of terrorists. You will do well to trust him with your secrets, young man.”
“While we’re at it,” Judith interjected, “it probably wouldn’t hurt to supply you with a little pocket money.”
“An excellent idea.” Cyril rose to his feet. “I am afraid that a prior appointment forces us to end our discussions for now. I suggest that we plan to meet again on...” he thought for a moment, then asked, “Would Thursday suit both of you?”
“Thursday’s fine with me,” Judith said.
“If I can get off work,” Wade said.
“Trust Ben Shannon with your secret,” Cyril said, “and you will find any number of impediments disappearing from your course. And rest assured that we shall in the meantime make every effort to seek out the men you have described.”
He offered Wade his hand. “As my colleague mentioned, it is very seldom that people surprise me. You, young man, have succeeded in doing so. I shall look forward with anticipation to our next meeting.”
After Wade’s departure, the pair stood and watched the closed door for a time before Cyril murmured, “Most remarkable.”
Judith took that as her cue. “You’re going to use him as bait too, aren’t you?”
Cyril nodded. “Now that all else has failed, it may be the only way to draw the lion from its lair.”
“You’re not going to warn him to stay out of harm’s way?”
“Oh, I am certain he will remain enclosed and relatively safe for a time.” Cyril smiled frostily. “Perhaps even as long as a day or two.”
“And then?”
“Then the same determination that has brought him this far will push him out into the open yet again.”
“They’ll be waiting.”
“And so shall we. You must double the guard at the clinic.”
“That will just about strip the cupboard bare.”
“The cupboard has up to now produced nothing of substance,” Cyril replied. “Let us place all our resources where we have the best chance of succeeding. Allison and this lad must be watched every step of the way.”
Judith smiled. “I know that look.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“You do have plans for this young man, don’t you?”
“Yes, well. It is so very seldom these days that one finds a person who combines a talent for adventurous derring-do with an ability to think on his or her feet.”
“What about Allison?”
“Oh, our young lady has all that and more.” He gave a fond smile of remembrance. “Her father would be so very proud of her.”
Judith watched him with wise eyes. “They would make quite a team, wouldn’t they?”
“I find it is best not to raise my hopes too high,” Cyril replied. “But yes, I admit the thought has crossed my mind. And yes, they would make a truly formidable pair.”
“So will you tell
her about him?”
Cyril thought it over. “I think not. This is Ben’s turf, at least within the clinic. It should be his decision.” The glint of humor resurfaced. “Besides, not telling them should grant our dear Dr. Shannon yet another reason to be irritated with me. That should please him no end.”
The three-hour trip back to Aqaba that afternoon was long and hot and far too quiet. The Land Rover’s air conditioning provided a fitful stream that blew only when the truck was coasting downhill. The trip left Allison feeling sticky, dirty, and frayed around the edges. But that was not what bothered her the most.
It was Wade’s total lack of interest in her that really hit where it hurt. Not that he was anything like her ideal man. Yet here she was, upset because Wade sat and stared straight ahead, not speaking with her, not noticing her at all.
She didn’t know anything about him. He probably had a girlfriend. Maybe he was even married. She checked as unobtrusively as she could—no ring. Not that it meant anything these days.
Allison looked out at the arid landscape and could almost hear her girlfriend’s condescending voice. A nurse—are you kidding? The bartender at Clyde’s would be a big step up. Yet she could not deny she was attracted to him.
Since Wade’s attention remained focused outside the car, Allison took the opportunity to furtively inspect him.
Nice hair. Beautiful green eyes—his best feature, really, with that strong, purposeful gaze. Not too strong a chin, but he was so determined it was hard to notice.
Clearly not a snappy dresser. But Aqaba was not a place that attracted men from the pages of GQ.
Great teeth. She wondered what his smile would look like.
Then she recalled his caring attitude toward the patients and felt that little catch to her breath once more.
Was she really interested in a relationship with him? She pushed the thought away as hard as she could. Definitely another Mr. Wrong, to be avoided at all costs.
And yet there was something to him that she could not put her finger on. Something that called to the heart’s small voice. Something that would not be denied, no matter how hard and loud her mind might object.
Riders of the Pale Horse Page 21
