After the Fall (27 page)

“Okay, oh righteous one,” Tim said, reaching over to pour them each another cup of coffee.

“Thanks for fixing me breakfast at this ungodly hour, Tim. What's on your schedule for today?”

“We surgeons don't let lack of sleep deter us—” Tim stopped.

Former surgeon
, Laura thought,
in my case
.

“Laura, I had a disastrous day yesterday. Lost that little Saudi
girl. If only they'd gotten her here sooner. Even a day earlier may have made a difference. Every time that happens, I feel a bit of myself die too.”

With a surge of guilt, Laura realized she'd been so absorbed in her corporate world she hadn't even thought to commiserate with Tim about the baby with tetralogy of Fallot, baby Malika. How Tim could deal with infants and children with major heart malformations was more than she could comprehend. Before she could think of something comforting to say, Tim continued, “Two procedures today—a mitral valve replacement, pretty routine. And then a cardiac tumor in a four-year-old. The imaging and echo for the kid look a lot like Patrick's. Just hope this little boy has such a happy outcome.”

“Yes, Patrick,” Laura said, starting to get up. Her limo would be here any minute to take her to the airport, to the sleek Keystone Gulfstream she now thought of as hers. “If only I could prevent the hurt I'm causing him now. I've been thinking, Tim. Let's go ahead and invite the kids for dinner Friday night, and tell them about Patrick, let them in on my shameful secret. I know I have to do it. Maybe the other kids won't be as gracious as Patrick. But I have to do this.”

Tim walked with her to the door. He pulled her toward him, kissed her, then picked up her briefcase and placed it in her left hand. “Yes,” he said. “Now you go do battle with the government. I'm betting on a Keystone victory. Do those Keystone people have any idea how lucky they are to have you on their team?”

“Bye, Tim, wish me luck. And do you know how lucky I am to have you on mine?”

W
EDNESDAY
, M
ARCH
4

Every nerve in Addie's brain jangled. Her life was imploding around her. Her Middle Eastern roots clashing violently with the Western lifestyle she now preferred. In America she had a dream job, prestige with her PhD degree, a secure position in a hugely successful startup. Highly respected, treated as if she were a male professional, not a half-person, as Islamic law defined females. And, she was about to come into more money than she could even comprehend—if she could keep her job long enough.

And then there was Jake, whom she'd always thought of as a convenient boyfriend, married and safe. But now, not married, and maybe not so safe. He'd dragged her into a police matter, and Addie knew what that meant. She could be arrested and never heard from again. But she wasn't in Iraq. America has courts of justice, and so many loopholes even the worst criminals could avoid arrest. In this web of disaster, she couldn't think straight.

Thankfully, Jake had been up and out early. He'd needed to prepare for an important FDA meeting. He hadn't told her what it was about. When she'd asked if was an Immunone meeting, he'd ignored the question. And if it was about Immunone, why wouldn't he tell her? What did that mean for her future? Marrying a man who refused to be honest with her?

As Addie went about making her morning tea, she felt her hands shake. Just thinking about Jake brought to mind the
shocking visit from the police. They suspected her of killing Jake's wife. Why else would they insist on talking to Dru to confirm her alibi? And where was Dru? He'd needed to tell her how she would get her new documents and tickets to travel to Baghdad once she got to London. And why did she need false documents? She was an Iraqi citizen, living legally in the US with a green card. At this moment, she was desperate to find him. He must go to the police and back up her story. Would he do that for her, or would he be scared out of his mind too?

Her kitchen smelled like coffee, a smell she'd never grown accustomed to in this country. She rinsed out the carafe before she sat to drink her cup of tea. She'd allow herself a few calm moments, and then she'd reread the letter from her mother that had arrived yesterday. She'd grabbed it out of Jake's sight, before she realized he couldn't read Arabic.
Torn between two cultures
, she thought.

Dear Daughter
,

You are to return home to us your father says. So very good. There is much for me to do. First, I have found you a husband. I have cultivated several, but most could not wait even though I tell them you are the most beautiful. The most good tempered. The most obedient in all ways of Allah
.

Mother, you are so far off the mark there.

My friend Anah has still an unmarried son. And, Adawia, you will respect him. Maybe you remember Gabir. Gabir Rahman. Three years older than you. You used to see him at the mosque. Do you remember? Tall. Heavy now with the big belly. But lots of curly black hair. He fixes electric things. Sorry to say he did not go to university. So I am trying not to say much about how important a doctor you are. I just told Anah you are in America and you don't like it and want to come home and marry a Muslim man. Anah needs grandchildren and, of course, I want more too. So that shouldn't be a problem. And you and I know you have to work at the research like your father, but if Gabir likes you, he won't care too much
.

Oh Mother, do you have any idea of how nauseous this Gabir person is making me?

So, I am going through the preparations so when you get here, all will be ready. Father has been so ill he hasn't been much help. And even being so sick, he still has to go to work every day. When you come, you take his place. That's what he tells me, but a woman? How can you take the place of a man like your father? But not my place to question. I have a lot to teach you about being a good wife. I taught your sister and I will teach you too
.

You might find me a bit more difficult than my sister Farrah, Mother. Perfect Farrah, with her dictatorial husband and her two darling little boys.

Don't worry, Adawia, you and Gabir will be a good marriage, not as high-level on his side, but there are not many men left without a wife, my daughter. You are thirty-four years old. You have been away too long. Your father and your sister are all so happy you will be home with us. This will mean so much to your father. My darling Adawia, your father is not doing well. He's sick and needs you, but don't worry about anything. We will have all ready for you
.

I can't do this. I just can't go back to that kind of life. A life without respect. A life as a half-person.

Your loving mother

Addie finished her cup of tea and fixed a piece of toast. This was going to be a long day, maybe the most important day of her life.

Dipping her toast in honey and sipping her second cup of tea, Addie mentally listed her options.

If she obediently went to Baghdad on Friday; did not get a leave of absence; did not marry Jake: she'd be working in bioterrorism; she'd be stuck with Gabir; she'd not have $7.5 million that could buy her way out of anything.

If she went to Baghdad on Friday; did get the leave of absence approved today; did marry Jake tomorrow: would she ever be able to leave Iraq? Would Islam accept Jake as her husband
and let him join her in Iraq? Could she trust Jake to take care of her money, to not start a new life without her?

What if Replica did not give her the leave of absence, and simply terminated her on Friday? She'd never see the money, but would she still marry Jake tomorrow? What good would it do her?

And, what if she did not get on that plane Friday, two days from now? Married to Jake or not, her family—mother, father, sister, and nephews—would be killed. Could she live with that? And herself, the target of an Iraqi death team even in the United States for her insubordination…

Addie checked her watch. Time to go. The Human Resources office opened at eight thirty. She'd be their first customer of the day. Her hands shook more as she rinsed the cup and saucer before placing them in the dishwasher. Dishwasher. No such luxury in Iraq.

Mentally, she reviewed her decision tree. The first branch would be leave of absence or no leave of absence. Next would be marry Jake or not marry Jake. The last: return to Iraq or put at risk all whom she loved.

Addie wore a conservative, burgundy-colored suit for her unscheduled meeting with Human Resources. On a normal day, she'd be dressed casually in slacks and a sweater. Most days, she wore a long lab coat, so it didn't matter how she dressed up or dressed down. She arrived just as official working hours started and told the receptionist she needed to speak with the vice president. Replica was a small company. Everybody knew everybody, but as their most successful researcher—Immunone's creator and champion—she knew Priscilla Fabre would see her immediately. She was offered coffee, requested tea, and sipped her third cup of the morning.

“Come in, Addie.” Priscilla stood at her office door, holding it open for Addie. Dressed equally as professionally and definitely more expensively, Priscilla greeted Addie with a wide smile, as she patted her gray curls in place.

Replica didn't have a separate public relations department, so Priscilla's responsibilities as a vice president included human resources and public relations. Addie guessed the stylish designer suit in shades of gray and matching Italian shoes had something to do with the imminent approval of Immunone. Should the approval happen today, Priscilla was dressed for television news.

Addie liked Priscilla and admired her determination. Recruiting Addie to Replica had been Priscilla's doing, and Priscilla had been the architect of Addie's employment agreement. Replica could not afford the escalating employment packages offered by the larger pharmaceutical companies, so they'd offered a modest salary, considered low for a scientist of her training. But to sweeten the pot, they gave her 5 percent of the selling price for her Immunone project, should it be acquired by another company. Contingent on Immunone's approval and contingent on Addie being a full-time employee of Replica at the time of drug approval. Since Immunone had been sold to Keystone Pharma for $150 million, her share amounted to $7.5 million. When the deal had been struck, the drug had been in an early phase of development. A risky venture, but now Immunone's approval was a sure thing—almost. Why hadn't Dr. Nelson called her back?

Priscilla was practically jumping up and down as Addie walked into her office, mug of tea in one hand and briefcase in the other. “Good news? So early in the day?” she asked expectantly.

“No, Priscilla. Not good. I have a request. For you, for the company.”

“Sure,” Priscilla said. “What is it?” The older woman took a seat across from Addie and leaned forward.

“My father is gravely ill. I have to return to Iraq to be with him.” Addie's eyes started to tear and she reached into her briefcase for a pack of tissues.

“Here, Addie,” Priscilla already had a handful of Kleenex which she pressed into Addie's hand.

“I may need to be away a while. I don't know how long. And
I came to ask about a leave of absence. I still want to be employed, but I can't be physically here.”

“I see,” Priscilla said. “And I appreciate the timing of this request. When do you plan to leave?”

“Friday,” Addie said. “I can't wait. He is desperately ill. I need to be there. I'm sure you understand.”

“I lost my father two years ago,” Priscilla said softly. “I still miss him terribly. I do understand. Problem is, this is not my decision. I recall your employment contract well. As a matter of fact, now that we are so close to having to pay you such a huge sum, I'm taking some flak for ‘giving away' so much of the company's money. But I keep reminding the board, ‘a contract is a contract,' and we wouldn't have Immunone at this phase without you. But I can tell you, they're not likely to cut you a break here.”

“Can you ask them? Now?” Addie had to know. This was branch one on her decision tree. The tree that would mean life and death to many. Her family, yes. But what about future victims of mass bioterrorism? Isn't that where they want her to dedicate her research?

“I'll try to get our legal counsel if it's that important to you.” Priscilla dialed, got passed through to the outside counsel Replica used. “But you should consider delaying—” She put her finger to her lips and whispered, “He's on.”

Addie listened with an out-of-body sensation as Priscilla argued her case to the attorney on the other end. The attorney whose mission was to protect Replica. Addie could tell by Priscilla's body language and her end of the conversation that the request for a leave was being denied.

When Priscilla hung up, she faced Addie and shook her head. “The contract is clear,” she said. “You need to be full-time employed in good standing. Of course, you could hire an attorney.”