“Can’t you give him something for the pain?” Al Rahman asked the EMT. “That’s my plan, Jack,” said the EMT. “Give me a second.” Vladimir looked up and saw the EMT drawing a clear liquid from a bottle with a syringe. When the syringe was half full, he removed the needle from the bottle, squirted out a tiny amount, and reached down to administer the shot. Vladimir tried to move away, but the EMT quickly found a spot and injected the sedative. Vladimir reluctantly closed his eyes, but could still hear the voices around him.
“OK, that should feel a little more comfortable. Anyway, we should be there soon. Don’t worry. The docs will take care of him in a few minutes. He’ll be fine.”
* * *
Dr. Judith Frank had been Chief Administrator at San Francisco General Hospital for almost ten years. Her arrival in San Francisco had been celebrated; she was the first woman to lead a major American hospital, but to her it was no big deal. She had absolutely no doubt about her abilities to manage the large and complex medical center. She understood her mission, never wavered from her dedication both to serve people and to keep the large and sensitive egos of the doctors sufficiently in check. There had been a few extraordinary management challenges during the past five years, but she had to admit the woman in front of her was describing something quite bizarre. The FBI agent had insisted that her companion, another woman, be secured alone in a large room. With some reluctance, Dr. Frank had placed the woman in her own office. Now she and Casey stood just outside its door.
“Ms. Jennings, let me repeat what you have told me. The woman in my office is a Russian agent of some kind. I believe you mentioned the acronym FSB. You are telling me that against her will and without her knowledge, an explosive device has been placed inside a titanium hip joint used to replace her own natural hip. Am I summing up the situation correctly?”
Casey nodded vigorously.
“You also said the only way to activate this uh…uh… device is by remote control from a short distance away.”
“Yes, Doctor, exactly right.” This was going better than Casey had hoped.
“And this remote activating device is where, exactly?”
“Well, I’m not sure. I did see it last in the possession of the man who wanted to use it, but I believe he lost it.” Casey did not want to go into an explanation of who Vladimir and Al Rahman were, and what role they played in all this. The last time she saw them Al Rahman was flat on his back on the sidewalk and Vladimir was diving into the street. She had seen something fly out of Al Rahman’s hand, but she was not even sure if it was the remote device, and if so, where it was now. She assumed Vladimir had secured it, but could not be sure.
“So it’s possible the device is right here in my hospital.”
Casey shook her head. “No, I’m pretty sure it is not here.”
Casey was interrupted by the figure of Gordon Lewis rushing through the door. She was relieved both to see him and for the interruption. She did not want to stand around answering questions while the threat to Myda persisted. She just wanted them to get that god-awful thing out of her as soon as possible.
“Dr. Franks, I’m Gordon Lewis, Assistant Director in Charge of Domestic Terrorism. I’m very sorry for the trouble we have caused you. I understand the uh…uh… victim is in your office.”
Mr. Lewis, I’m pleased to meet you,” said Dr. Frank as she held out her hand, “although I wish we could have met under better circumstances. Yes, the woman is in my office. I understand she needs to be operated on immediately. I believe, however, we will need the services of the bomb squad to assist in the surgery.”
“Yes, Doctor,” said Gordon, “that’s correct. I’ll make the arrangements to take care of the disposal if you can assist us with extraction.”
Dr. Franks stared for a moment at the two agents and Casey was briefly worried she would deny them, but the hospital administrator quickly put her at ease.
“I will arrange for a volunteer surgical team,” Franks said. “As it happens, we do have one orthopedic surgeon who has recently returned from duty in Iraq. Perhaps he will have some insight into these kinds of things. I will see if he is available.” Dr. Frank turned and walked over to her secretary’s desk, quickly giving her instructions.
“Casey,” said her boss, turning to her, “I hate to interrupt this unfortunate woman’s reunion with her brother, but let’s go in and talk to her for a moment.” Before Casey could say anything, he pushed open the door to Dr. Frank’s office and stepped inside. Before he had passed the doorway, however, he stopped and turned back to Casey.
“Where’s Kosnar?”
“I don’t know,” said Casey.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” said Gordon speaking louder than he intended. “I thought he was with you.”
Casey took her boss’s arm, moving him out of the doorway and away from Dr. Frank, who was now on the phone. Once out of earshot, she rapidly brought him up to speed on the events that had transpired, starting with Vladimir recognizing his sister on the video monitor. Gordon Lewis stood impassively listening to her explanation and when she finished, he stared at her for a few seconds. Then, shaking his head he said, “I’m not sure I approve of your actions, Casey, but then again, I’m not sure I would have done it differently myself.” He paused.
“Ok look, you get on the horn to the local police bomb disposal unit and have them get up here right away. Also, alert hospital security. Have them be on the lookout for anyone suspicious. This hospital is going to be in a very vulnerable position until we get that thing out of her body. If your boy Kosnar is who he says he is, then I expect he will try to make contact. I just hope he and Al Rahman are not cooking up some scheme right now. You and I have gone out on a limb for that fellow. I hope he is on the up and up.”
* * *
Dr. Zack Powell had just finished a long day at the hospital and was glad to be going home. Having spent most of the past year in Iraq performing countless surgeries on gravely injured American and Iraqi soldiers, he was still trying to get back into his regular home routine with his wife and two young daughters. His wife had strongly supported his decision to volunteer his medical expertise to the army, but her joy and relief at his return had been stronger then either of them had expected. As he strode towards his car he was looking forward to a quiet dinner and some play time with his girls. He clicked the remote to unlock the car as his beeper went off.
Tossing his backpack onto the front seat, he pulled the beeper off his belt and glanced at the message. The numbers 911 quickly got his attention and he reluctantly jogged back into the hospital as he heard his name over the hospital’s public address system, asking him to immediately contact Dr. Franks, the hospital administrator. Grabbing the nearest phone, he dialed the number, and Dr. Franks’ assistant put him through immediately. Dr. Powell listened for about a minute and then exclaimed,” You’re kidding.” He listened for a few more seconds and then said, “I’m on my way,” as he quickly hung up the phone and ran, towards the elevators. Given what he had just heard, he was anticipating a long and difficult evening at the hospital more reminiscent of his time in Iraq instead of dinner and playtime with his family.
* * *
Gordon Lewis was desperate to get his hands back on Vladimir Kosnar. He was very worried now that both Kosnar and Al Rahman were out there on the loose, perhaps working together. Perhaps everything that had transpired so far had been a ruse to distract the FBI from their real purpose. Maybe something else was going on. He had trusted Kosnar, assumed the man was telling the truth, still he instinctively believed the man was honest, but years of adversarial combat with the KGB, and more recently the FSB, predisposed him to doubt. Even if Kosnar was telling the truth, if Al Rahman was still on the loose, the doctors and nurses operating on the unfortunate Russian woman would be in danger. He would have to find a way to protect them. He immediately arranged for additional security at the hospital.
CHAPTER 38
CASEY WAS EXHAUSTED. The last
seventy-two hours had left her emotionally and physically spent. Her trip to London felt like it was weeks ago, rather than just two days before. Dr. Franks suggested Myda be kept in her office while the surgical team was assembled, and Gordon Lewis instructed Casey to remain with her. There had been a quick debate about evacuating the hospital or at least an area near where Myda would be located, but they decided an evacuation would be too disruptive for the patients. The real threat was only to people who were close to her, the doctors and nurses who would be doing the actual operation. That was of much larger concern to Dr. Franks, and she had quickly engaged Dr. Powell in conversation as soon as he arrived at her office.
Casey and Myda sat together uncomfortably for almost forty-five minutes, waiting for the surgical team to get ready. They talked briefly a few times, but they could never get the conversation going. Casey noticed Myda seemed at once both distracted and stoic. She sat quietly on the couch in Dr. Frank’s office, her shoes off, legs pulled up close to her chest. Casey was about five feet away from her in a large comfortable chair. The moment she sat down, she realized she had picked an unwise location if the bomb in Myda’s hip was detonated. She closed her eyes briefly at the thought and then put it out of her mind; they were in this together. She had put so many people at risk by bringing the Russian woman to the hospital in the first place, it seemed only right she share in the danger. The two women sat quietly, the minutes passing slowly.
Finally, there was a knock at the door and Dr. Powell walked in without waiting for a response. He quickly introduced himself and told Myda he would need to do a physical examination before they began surgery. Casey got up to leave, but Dr. Powell stopped her.
“Ms. Jennings,” he said, “normally when I examine a woman, a female nurse is present. However, under the circumstances, I don’t want to endanger more people than necessary. Please stay with us while I conduct the examination. Come on over here and stand next to me, please.” Casey nodded and walked over to the spot he indicated.
The doctor turned back to Myda and directed her to lie flat on her back on the couch. Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he gently pulled her dress up above her waist, and then pulled her panties down away from her hips so both hip joints and her pubic hair were exposed. Casey remained standing above and just to the left of doctor and his patient. She felt uncomfortable at the sight of the exposed woman in front of her, but was quickly distracted, surprised by the scars on Myda’s hips. Both hips. Two sets of long, thin scars ran for about six inches, almost parallel to each other, along both her hips. Dr. Powell looked up at Casey and said, “I thought we were dealing with just one hip replacement. There appear to be two.”
Casey just shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. Dr. Powell turned back to Myda. “Did you have both your hip joints replaced?” he asked his voice even and soothing.
“I’m not sure,” Myda responded. “They never really told us what they were doing. I had very bad pain in my left hip, although after my first surgery, I had scars on both sides. I asked why, but they just said it was necessary,” she said, shrugging.
“And then you had surgery again more recently?” asked Dr. Powell.
“Yes, they contacted me and told me I had to come back for corrective surgery.” She shrugged again. “I did what I was told. When I woke up from my second surgery, there were two more scars, again one on each side.”
Dr. Powell gently ran his fingers along each scar. Then he had Myda move her legs up and down and side to side.
“OK. Very good,” said Dr. Powell. He gently pulled Myda’s panties back up and then pulled her dress back down. Flashing Myda a reassuring smile, he took her left hand in both of his as he stood up.
“We’re going to have you X-rayed now and then you will be brought to the surgery. This is going to be a long process, so we need to get started. Do you have any questions for me about the procedure?”
Myda, still on her back on the couch, looked up at him and began to open her mouth to say something, then stopped, just shook her head and then looked away.
“Ms. Jennings,” said Dr. Powell looking over at her. “There is an orderly outside with a wheelchair. Please tell him to come in.”
The orderly pushed the wheelchair into the room and Dr. Powell, still holding Myda’s hand, gently helped her up onto her feet. He directed her into the wheelchair, watching as the orderly knelt down to adjust the footrests.
“There are two gentlemen outside who are with the FBI,” said Dr. Powell. “They will be escorting you to the X-ray facility and then back the surgical theatre as soon as the X-rays are done.”
He patted Myda on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in the operating room in a few minutes.” Then he looked up at the orderly and said to him, “Quick as you can. I want pictures of both hips. The moment you’re done, bring her to us. Don’t wait for the picture. Got it?”
The orderly nodded and pushed the wheelchair through the open door. The two FBI agents quickly took up their positions, one in front of the wheelchair, and one behind the orderly. Casey started to follow, but before she could leave the office, Dr. Powell called her back.
“I was hoping we could have the hip replaced in about ninety minutes, but it looks like she has had both joints replaced. Is there any way of knowing which is the lethal one?”
Casey shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe something will show up in the x-ray,” she said hopefully.
“Hmm, maybe,” Dr. Powell replied with a long sigh. “I suppose we could do an MRI, but that will take a lot more time. This is going to be a longer ordeal than we planned so we just need to get started. I’m going right up to the OR right now. Would you find Dr. Franks and update her please.”
As Casey watched Dr. Powell walk down the hallway, she wished she had said something to Myda before they had wheeled her away, something encouraging, but nothing had come to mind. She pushed the hair back from her forehead and rubbed her eyes. She was desperate to sleep but did not anticipate an opportunity to relax for quite sometime. This was going to be a long night, much longer than anyone had anticipated.
* * *
Abd Al Rahman sat in the small cramped emergency room waiting area feeling uncomfortably exposed. An armed security guard stood at the entrance to the waiting room and an assortment of injured and sick people sat or lay about on the plastic chairs clearly designed to prevent anyone from getting too comfortable. The incongruous site of a large man with a bloody face and wearing a blood splattered dress and high heels sitting opposite him drew his gaze, but he quickly looked away and he picked up a magazine, trying to look inconspicuous.
Soon after he had followed Kosnar’s gurney into the emergency room, he had been ushered into the waiting area as they took the injured man for X-rays. Now, as he sat waiting, he pondered his options. He was certain he had heard Kosnar shout to the American woman something about taking the woman to the hospital. It made sense. If they knew, and Kosnar certainly did know, then they would try to get her to a hospital to have the replacement hip joint removed somehow. But which hospital? Was it possible the ambulance had taken Kosnar to the same one the American woman had taken his shaheed? Was she here now, in the same building undergoing surgery?
The image of doctors and nurses bent over a patient who suddenly exploded, sending body parts and shrapnel from surgical instruments across the room flashed in his mind. He glanced around, put his hand into his jacket pocket, carefully slipped the safety switch off and with one more glance around him, pressed the plunger. He involuntarily tensed, waiting for the sound of an explosion, but there was nothing. He waited for a few more seconds, and then reset the safety switch. Maybe it was too much to expect that Kosnar would have been taken to the same hospital as his shaheed. Still, he reassured himself, maybe this was a big hospital and she could be in a different part of the building, too far away to activate the bomb.
Just then the door to the emergency room opened and young male nurse stepped out. He beckoned to Al Rahman, who quickl
y rose from his seat.
“Your buddy is back from X-ray,” the young man said brightly. “No fractures or any serious damage. Just a nasty cut on the head and probably a really bad headache. We sutured the cut and bandaged him and he’ll probably be discharged in a few hours, after he has had some time to rest.”
Al Rahman did his best to the show the man a happy, relieved smile. “Thank you very much,” he said.
“You can go back there to sit with him if you like,” the nurse said as he pushed the door open wider to let Al Rahman through.
For a moment Al Rahman panicked. It had not occurred to him he would be put into a room with Kosnar and even with the Russian in a weakened condition, he had no desire to see or confront him. He felt no fear of the Russian, only a loathing that he had denied him his martyrdom in Afghanistan and now interrupted his carefully made plans to attack San Francisco. But a confrontation with Kosnar would expose his cover and for a moment he stood still, not quite sure how to respond, but as he glanced at the nurse, he realized he was expected to go in. Not doing so would arouse suspicion.
As Al Rahman followed the nurse through the emergency room he was not sure what to do. If he walked in to Kosnar’s room and Kosnar was awake, there would be a confrontation. Even if Kosnar was injured and debilitated, he would still probably react violently and quickly at the sight of Al Rahman.
The nurse walked quickly down the corridor, turning into a room with two beds separated by a green curtain. A young man with his leg in a cast laid uncomfortably on one bed, an older man sitting on the bed next to him trying to comfort him. The nurse pushed aside the curtain blocking the view to the second bed and exclaimed, “What the f…”
Al Rahman glanced around the nurse’s back and, noticing the empty bed, quickly looked behind him, tensing for an attack from Kosnar. The nurse turned back to face him.
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