The Libra Affair (32 page)

“You've been waiting three years for this puppy to fly. It's too important to just throw in the towel so hang on, let me talk to my friend here.”

When she returned to the line, she said, “Okay. Call me back in thirty, Jason's going to contact Payload Operations and see what we can do.”

“Kara, that's great. You guys really think you can do something?”

“No promises.”

“And Kara,” he said. “There is one more thing.”

“I'll just get out my wand.” She chuckled.

“You don't mind, do you?”

“No, no. I'm just yanking your chain. What is it?”

“See if it's possible to bump it a day to Wednesday.”

He knew that'd give him enough time to be discharged from the hospital and make it to Jordan, which would give them the night to log onto NASA and reprogram the experiment. It'd also give him enough time to figure out what exactly was going on with Jordan and his experiment.

“You don't ask for much,” Kara joked.

“Since you're going to the trouble,” he said sweetly.

“And you don't even know the half of it.”

“You can have all my vacation time if it makes you feel any better.”

“I might just take you up on it, dude.”

Thirty minutes later, Kara had managed to arrange everything as if Ben had ordered a pepperoni pizza for delivery.

• • •

Back with Farrokh, who was still monitoring outside events, Jordan gave him the news. “Six
A.M.
Wednesday, our time. That means we're stuck in here until then.”

Farrokh looked up at Jordan. “I'm worried about Isbel.”

“She'll be okay. She has her medicine.”

He contorted his face. “She needs to be seen by a doctor soon.”

Jordan patted his shoulder. “She's just tired.”

Outside, they heard three engines turn over.

“They must be leaving,” he said.

“Let's just hope they have everything they need.”

But then, someone outside tried to lift the door to the unit.

Jordan and Farrokh reached for their weapons.

The door to their storage unit was secured from the inside with metal slats. That'd keep a man or two out, but not the strength of a truck. And by the sound of the truck's engine and gears grinding just outside their door, it seemed as if the driver was about ready to crash down the door.

The soldier continued to jerk and pull on their door until one of his buddies shouted from inside the truck. “Wrong unit. It's the next one down.”

Jordan and Farrokh heaved a sigh of relief, although they held their positions with their weapons aimed and ready.

Not thirty seconds later, the trucks were on the move.

Farrokh held up two fingers to signal that two of the vehicles were leaving, and with a single finger, he pointed toward the unit next door to indicate that one of the trucks had moved that way and was staying behind.

It was late evening by the time the remaining men packed it in and left the premises. Worn out from the wait and the heat, Farrokh joined Jordan at the table where she was studying maps. Next to her, Isbel sat contentedly, playing a game of Solitaire.

“I think we should call it an early night,” Farrokh said.

Jordan folded her maps and placed them inside her bag. “Listen, Isbel, I'm afraid we have to sleep here tonight.”

Isbel sighed, saying, “Okay,” and then reached to rub her leg.

“You can sleep in the backseat of the Samand,” she told her. “You'll be more comfortable there. You've got a blanket so you'll be warm when it gets a little cool.”

Jordan faced Farrokh. His expression was one of gratitude.

“I'll take the floor near the door,” he said. “Let me grab the bags.” It was part of his job to tackle the logistics and the man had thought of practically every contingency — food and sleeping bags included.

“That leaves me the backseat of the Jeep,” Jordan said to him when he returned.

Farrokh nodded.

“Here,” she popped the lid off a can of soup, “you need to eat something.”

“Thanks.” He smiled at Jordan and Isbel as though the three of them were dining out at a fine restaurant. He consumed half the can in one swallow. “See,” he said to Isbel, “everything always has a way of working out. We have a place to sleep and we have something to eat.”

“I know, Baba. I know.”

Jordan saw the look of masked fear in the girl's eyes. She was scared, although she forced herself to agree with her father.

“Don't worry,” her father said to reassure the girl. “We have a very fine friend with us.” Then he finished the rest of his soup.

Jordan helped situate Isbel inside the car while Farrokh lifted the garage door and stepped outside. A few minutes later, Jordan joined him.

“Let's see if they left anything behind,” Farrokh said.

Jordan nodded. “That's exactly what I was thinking.”

They walked to the end storage unit. The lock was gone so Farrokh lifted the door. The unit was empty.

They walked to the next two units and discovered the same, which left the unit on the other side of theirs. Farrokh tried lifting its door, but soon discovered the lock still attached.

“I can pick it,” Jordan said.

It wasn't long before Jordan released the lock and Farrokh lifted the door. Jordan flipped on the light switch close to the door and there at the end of the unit stood two stacked rows of unmarked wooden crates.

Farrokh whistled.

“I have a feeling they'll be back,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“But how soon?” Jordan's mind was reeling.

“Let's check it out,” he said and cracked open a lid on one of the boxes.

“Automatics,” Jordan announced. “Russian.”

“It wouldn't hurt to have a few extra,” he suggested.

“No, it wouldn't,” Jordan lifted a sub-machine gun from the crate, “especially if we find the ammo to pair with it.”

Farrokh opened a few more boxes and like an answer to a prayer, they found the ammunition. Jordan carried several guns along with a stockpile of ammo over to their unit while Farrokh stayed behind to reseal the crates.

When she returned, she saw that Farrokh had finished the job, but was just standing there, adjusting the fingers on his prosthetic hand. His face was long, sullen, and he appeared lost in thought.

“Farrokh?” she said.

He looked at her, his expression pained.

“What is it?”

“You don't know everything about Isbel's past, Jordan. She's not — ”

“Baba.” Isbel stood at the entrance to the unit. “I'm scared.”

“Child. What are you doing up?” Farrokh hurried to his daughter.

As they left, he glanced back at Jordan. “Later.”

• • •

The doctor made his rounds early Tuesday morning and signed off on Ben's discharge, but not without assigning him a rigorous course of post-op treatment and giving him enough medication to last a year.

“I'll go get the car,” Sonya told the nurse and Ben.

The nurse said, “We'll see you around front,” and she wheeled Ben toward the door.

When Sonya arrived, a police cruiser pulled in front of her car. It was Officer Tavaazo. Somehow Sonya just wasn't surprised. Ignoring him, she continued around to the passenger side of her car.

Tavaazo got out of his car. “Excuse me, Ms. Roth,” he called to her.

She ignored him. “Ready?” she said to Ben. She and the nurse helped him to the passenger seat. Now wasn't the time for games.

“I need a moment of your time,” Tavaazo said more insistently.

Sonya closed the passenger side door, then opened the back door. “You can put the box in the backseat,” she told the nurse. “We have all his medications, do we not?”

“Yes,” the nurse replied. “It's all there.”

“Ms. Roth,” the officer repeated.

Sonya didn't respond. Instead she asked the nurse, “And the records, do we have everything he needs?”

The nurse leaned into the backseat and rifled through the box. “I seem to have forgotten them. I'm so sorry,” she said as she stood. “It won't take a minute. I'll just go get them.”

Sonya was stuck, she had to wait on the nurse to keep up appearances.

Tavaazo exhaled a line of smoke from his cigar. “Please, take your time,” he said to the nurse.

Sonya faced the man. She wanted to slap the thin little cigar from his mouth. “If you don't mind,” she said as if reprimanding a child, “we were just leaving.”

Tavaazo gritted the cigar between his teeth. “I'd like a few minutes with this man.” He motioned toward Ben.

“I'm sorry.” Sonya turned up her nose. “He's not able to speak with you. He's not well.”

“He looks perfectly fine to me.”

“In case you have forgotten, Mr. Ahed has just had a major surgery. He needs rest. Not company.”

“Yes, but he's had plenty of rest,” the officer said in a snide tone of voice. “He is being released, is he not?”

“I'm sorry. We don't have time for this.”

“Don't leave town without speaking to me. Are we clear?” Tavaazo narrowed his eyes at her.

Meeting him head-on, Sonya shot back, “I think you seem to have forgotten we have diplomatic immunity.” She moved to sidestep the man, but Tavaazo grasped her arm.

“Yes, well,” he stared into her eyes, “that is the question. Do you?” He squeezed her arm so that she felt the pain.

Not flinching, Sonya responded with dead calm. “If you don't release your hand from my arm, I'm
certain
you'll live to regret it.”

“Are you threatening me?” His voice rose with indignation.

“In case you're unfamiliar with the law, Officer Tavaazo, you are now in violation of assaulting my person.” She jerked her arm free, setting the man off balance. “Perhaps your supervisor will hear from me after all.”

Dr. Hamin suddenly appeared. “May I be of assistance?”

“Doctor,” Sonya acknowledged his presence. “As a matter of fact, this man,” she nodded to Tavaazo, “somehow has formed the opinion that Mr. Ahed does
not
need rest now that he's being discharged. Do you have an opinion in this regard?”

The doctor looked at the officer. “Officer Tavaazo, it seems your test results have come in.”

Tavaazo bobbled the cigar between his lips. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes. But I'm sure you'd be more comfortable discussing your results in private.”

“What's to discuss? I had a simple cold, now it's much improved.”

“This pertains to a different matter altogether that, well, shall we say, is on a rather personal note.” The doctor gave Tavaazo a sly wink, then held out a hand to show the way. “If you will follow me, please, sir.”

Tavaazo was cornered.

Dr. Hamin handed Sonya a file. “It seems the nurse left Mr. Ahed's records on the counter by mistake.”

“How kind of you,” she said.

“When Mr. Ahed gets home, his attending physician will need them. My number is listed on the paperwork so be sure to have him or her call me.”

As soon as Sonya was back in the driver's seat, Ben spoke. “What's going on?”

“Hang on,” she replied, then backed up the car and drove around the police cruiser.

“What's going on?” he asked again.

“Looks like Tavaazo's partner is going to follow us.”

“I didn't see another officer.” Ben looked out his window, straining to see.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. “He stayed in the car.”

Sonya pulled onto the main thoroughfare and punched the accelerator. It was morning rush hour, so traffic was heavier than usual. The faster she could get away, the better.

She made a right-hand turn, then crossed the middle line and passed a delivery truck directly in front of them. The light at the next intersection changed to red, forcing them to stop.

A siren screamed.

Ben glanced in his side mirror. “There,” he cried.

Watching from the side mirrors, they both saw the police vehicle shoot down the main thoroughfare.

“Excellent,” Sonya said.

“He missed our turn,” Ben sounded amazed.

“Yes, isn't it delicious? The imbecile is chasing the wrong vehicle.”

When the light changed, Sonya turned left and took the road less traveled to the edge of town. There, she returned to the main thoroughfare, which led directly to Highway 22. Traffic had lightened significantly and there was no sign of the police.

Ben eased back into the seat. “That was close.”

“Keep your fingers crossed, as you Americans like to say.”

“Oh, man, what I wouldn't give for a glass of your vodka about now.”

Sonya gave him that wry little smile of hers as she took the liberty of eyeing him over. “I wouldn't argue with that.”

But ten minutes later, their luck changed again. A police car siren screamed from several cars back with its lights flashing.

Ben cast a quick look over his shoulder. “I don't believe it.”

Sonya glanced in her side mirror.

“I never expected he'd catch up with us. Did you?” he asked.

“Never say never.”

“Is it the same guy? Can you see him?”

She strained to see.

“You think he's after us?” he questioned.

“It certainly appears as though he's heading our way.”

“This can't be good.”

“Oh, I don't know, why don't we invite him to dinner and see if he accepts?”

The siren wailed.

“What if he accepts?” Ben asked.

“Then I'll see him in Tehran,” Sonya replied.

“Assuming the officer's a man.”

“I'm fairly confident about that. You are in Iran, Dr. Johnson.”