Out of Control (14 page)

His fingers stroked my cheek. “If you can do the woman thing, I can do the man thing.”

I opened my other eye, scowling. “What woman thing?”

“Bitching about the man thing.”

I ground my teeth. In the distance, I heard a siren. “What’s the damn plan?”

“If I’m not back at the hospital within two hours, call Dan Garza. You still have
his card?”

“It’s in my underwear. What am I supposed to say when I call?”

“Tell him your location, and say my name. He’ll come for you, and you need to do whatever
he says. If he puts you on a plane, any plane, and tells you to leave, do it. Don’t
wait for me. Understand?”

“I understand.” But I didn’t have to like it.

We had no more time because Ara was at the door, knocking, calling out to Nick. “Sir,
may I come in and see your wife?”

He strode to the door and opened it swiftly. “She’s terribly ill,” he said, sounding
so genuinely terrified, I almost believed him. “She won’t wake up and just as I laid
her on the bed, she convulsed. I felt it best to call for an ambulance.”

I caught the scent of her perfume as she bent close to me, felt her gentle fingers
against my face. “What game do you play?” she whispered so softly, I wasn’t even certain
she’d said it.

Of course I didn’t answer.

Then the paramedics were there, and just as Nick predicted, they were men. They lowered
the covers only to my breasts, did a cursory examination that included taking my blood
pressure, listening to my heartbeat, and checking my temperature. I heard Nick say
something to them, then heard Ara exclaim, “A baby! Are you certain?”

“Very. It’s why we got married sooner than we’d planned.”

I suppose that was all the paramedics needed to be convinced I should be taken to
the hospital. Nick asked Ara to step outside while they lowered the covers, lifted
me onto the gurney, then covered me with a sheet. He placed my backpack at my feet
and followed them as they wheeled me out the door and through the winding corridors
of Kaliq’s gi-normous house.

Kaliq and his wife spoke to Nick in Arabic. It sounded as though they were worried
and I felt bad, but this was the best way to get out of the house.

Then I heard Cole say in a too loud voice, “Should he be attending her in the ambulance?
I thought the
mutawaeen
didn’t allow an unmarried man and woman to be in close quarters.”

The gurney stopped and I heard Robichaud say in what had to be his best I’m A Rich
Man From The Old Country Who Can Squash You Like A Bug voice, “Who are you to question
my rights? My
wife
is very ill and needs medical attention. I’ll thank you to mind your own business.”

“I happen to know she’s not your wife.”

“You know nothing,” he said imperiously. Then he spoke in Arabic and the gurney began
to move again.

Cole wasn’t giving up so easily. He said in a louder voice, “Hakeem, are you going
to let them leave together? I know Ms. Drake from America, and I assure you, she’s
not married to him.”

Hakeem spoke up then. “Mr. Robichaud, I’ll need to see some manner of proof. Otherwise,
you and Ms. Drake could be arrested.”

The gurney stopped.

“She’s my
wife
, and she’s
sick.
How dare you question?”

“I dare because it’s my duty.”

I heard Nick cursing under his breath, along with the sound of him rummaging about
in his backpack. “Here,” he said, his voice shaking with fury. “It’s our marriage
license, dated exactly three days ago. We’d thought to make this trip something of
a honeymoon, but now she’s convulsing, perhaps losing our baby, and you’re asking
for proof that she’s my
wife?
” I heard the crinkle of paper. “Now get the hell out of my way!”

Wow. If I ever happened to marry Robichaud, and happened to get sick, I wondered if
he’d be that passionate? Because it was intense.

It worked. We were on our way again, and within minutes I was in the back of an ambulance,
Robichaud holding my hand while the vehicle screamed down King Fahd Boulevard.

Everything was going according to plan, despite a too-close call, and I relaxed a
bit.

That was about the time I heard the squealing of rubber on asphalt, the blast of car
horns, and loud shouting. I felt my body tilt wildly, then flip over. My eyes flew
open and I saw a wall of medical equipment and a hail of sharp instruments coming
straight at me.

Chapter Ten

Accidents are always so weirdly dreamlike, as if everything’s in slow motion, lasting
an eternity, when in reality it takes less than a minute for cars to be smashed, people
to lose their lives, and everything to change.

The ambulance landed on its side. Strapped to the gurney, I was smashed up against
the wall, which was now the floor, with various medical implements poking into my
belly and legs. Thankfully, nothing had pierced the skin. At least that I could tell.

Oddly, the interior lights were still on. I managed to get my arms loose to unbuckle
the straps, then crawled free and looked around, my stomach heaving when I saw the
paramedic. His head was covered in blood, his eyes wide open and staring. Dead.

Then I saw Nick and sucked in a heavy breath before I crawled close to staunch the
blood flowing from a wound in his arm. He was conscious, but dazed. He kept saying
my name, over and over.

I turned and pawed through the melee of medical supplies scattered about, searching
for bandages and a tourniquet. While I was wrapping Nick’s wound, one of the doors
at the back of the ambulance burst open and two men peered inside, speaking in Arabic.
“Do you speak English?” I asked.

“Yes,” one of them said, his eyes looking me over. “You are hurt?”

“Only bruises, but I believe my husband is losing a lot of blood. Is there another
ambulance on the way?”

He nodded, looking a bit green when he spied the paramedic. The other man murmured
something in Arabic that I decided must be a prayer. Then he climbed into the ambulance
and squatted next to me, looking at Robichaud’s arm. “You are a doctor?”

“No, but I know first aid.” I’d been trained extensively, due to the nature of my
job. I tied the rubber tourniquet above a long gash and said some prayers of my own.
Nick was fading in and out, saying my name, mumbling something about the king.

The man asked, “Does he speak of King Abdullah?”

I nodded. “He was going to see him this evening on a matter of great importance. Now,
it’s impossible and he’s worried.” I was equally worried. If Robichaud couldn’t go,
what was I to do? No way would the king see me, even if I could make it to the royal
residence without being arrested for going about alone. I didn’t even know where the
palace was. Or where
I
was at the moment.

I remembered Nick’s instructions. Right. I’d wait for another ambulance and go with
him to the hospital, make sure he was all right, then call Dan Garza.

Meanwhile, I held his hand and murmured comforting things to him, praying all the
while that he wasn’t injured somewhere that I couldn’t see.

It wasn’t long before I heard a siren and my new friend smiled reassuringly. “He will
be attended.”

“Yes, thank God.”

With an efficiency that impressed me, the new arrivals collected Nick and carefully
removed him from the wreck. I followed, favoring my right side, which I suspected
was badly bruised. I might even have a broken rib, but I was able to walk, so I stayed
with the gurney when they placed it in the other ambulance. Only then did I look at
my new friend and ask about the other vehicle in the accident. His smile faded and
he shook his head. “The other driver, he was not so fortunate.” He waved goodbye,
the doors closed, and we were on our way to the hospital once again.

The paramedic kept his focus on Nick, and it wasn’t until we arrived and the emergency
room staff took over that he asked if I was the original patient. I nodded and crossed
my arms over my belly. “I’ve only recently learned I’m to have a child, and I believe
I overdid the heat today.”

He handed me our packs and said something to the hovering nurse, who led me by the
arm inside and insisted I let her examine me. The ER was separated into two areas,
one for women and one for men. As I was led away from the men’s area, I was swamped
by a sudden foreboding and became almost hysterical. I didn’t want to leave Nick.
I was terrified they’d do something to him that wasn’t right.

Irrational? Maybe. Maybe not. It was the “not” that had me worried.

The nurse assured me he’d be taken good care of, and made me go into a small room
and lay on the bed. She lifted my camisole and made a universal sound that could only
mean,
Poor thing
.

“What is it?” I raised my head to look, then dropped it with a groan. The entire right
side of my torso was one giant green and purple bruise.

“This must have an X-ray,” she said.

“No!” I sat up, despite the pain, and held my arms over my stomach. “I’m pregnant.
Just wrap me up and I’ll be on my way.”

She insisted, until I totally lost it and started crying, begging to see my husband.
I can admit now, I was only half acting. I had an overpowering need to see Nick, to
make sure he was all right. My protective instincts were going wild.

The nurse silently wrapped my ribcage as tight as I could stand, then handed me the
camisole. After I slipped it on, I dug in my pack for the
abaya
. She looked relieved when I dropped it over my head and fastened the top buttons.

I thanked her and she led me back to the men’s area, to another examining room. When
she opened the door, I rushed to Nick’s side, grabbed his hand and looked into his
eyes, hoping for recognition.

He was still a bit dazed, but he knew me. “Hey, sugar,” he whispered, “how’re you
doing?”

“I’m okay. How about you? Anything broken?”

“Nah. Just sliced my arm open, but Doc here’s gonna fix me up, right Doc?”

“Yes,” the doctor said, never looking up from his task of stitching Nick’s wound.
“I’d like your husband to stay overnight with us, that we might run some X-rays and
keep an eye on him.”

Nick’s eyes closed and he mumbled, “Not stay…too late to see…Blair?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Should call Dan. Let ‘im know where….” His voice drifted off and he passed out.

“Will he be here a while longer?”

“At least half an hour. Then we’ll take him for the X-rays.”

“I’m going to step outside and make a phone call, but I’ll be right back.”

The doctor nodded, all his concentration on Nick’s arm.

Outside, it was still a bazillion degrees. Hot enough to bake bread. I fished my cell
phone out of my pack, walked far away from the hospital entrance, and backed up to
a wall so I could retrieve the card from where I’d stashed it. I dialed Garza’s number
and waited for an answer.

There wasn’t one.

I rechecked the number and dialed again.

Still no answer. Not even voice mail. Are you frikkin’ kidding me? Who doesn’t have
voice mail?

Damn.
Now what was I going to do?

I looked at my watch. In less than two hours, the loading terminals at Ras Tanura
were going to blow up.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I stood there in the baking night heat, swathed in a black silk robe, and considered
every option. If I called Faisal, he’d probably help me, but he had no credibility
because of what he supposedly did to Hakeem, so I suspected he’d have as much luck
getting to see the king as I would—which was zero.

Kaliq was an old guard conservative, and so into kissing Hakeem’s ass he wouldn’t
rat on the guy if Hakeem was holding a bomb in his hand.

Ara couldn’t help because she had a vagina.

I allowed myself a few minutes to silently curse the Saudis’ draconian policies regarding
women. Because of their idiotic law that women couldn’t go outside the home without
being escorted by a male relative, a key part of their petroleum infrastructure was
about to be taken out. The world would take months, maybe years, to recover from the
blow to the global economy. All because I didn’t have a penis.

I was halfway tempted to set off across the street, to walk boldly along and be arrested
by the
mutawaeen
. Maybe I could convince the police to alert the oil ministry of an impending act
of terrorism against the kingdom.

Except, I knew it wouldn’t happen that way. I didn’t speak Arabic. I’d likely be thrown
in jail by cops who didn’t speak English and left to rot until Robichaud could come
and spring me. Even if the police could understand me, they’d think I was an hysterical
woman and disregard anything I had to say as mindless babble.

Defeated and depressed, I made my way back to the entrance, still trying to think
of how I could stop Cole and Hakeem. Inside, I returned to the small examining room.
My heart sank when I saw it was empty. The nurse who’d helped me earlier said they’d
already taken Nick to X-ray, that I should sit in the women’s area and wait for him.

I was so desperate, I even considered telling the nurse and asking her for advice.
Craziness. She wouldn’t believe me, and even if she did, how could she help? She had
that whole vagina problem, too.

Turning, I walked toward the women’s area, wishing I’d stayed inside and gone with
Robichaud. Why hadn’t Garza answered? Nick had made it sound as though he was on call
24/7.

I passed an X-ray sign with an arrow, and impulsively changed direction, following
the arrow. I had to find Nick.

Halfway down the hall, I heard a man’s voice behind me. “Missy?”

I turned, because there was no one else he could be speaking to, and saw my friend
from the ambulance. “Hello,” I said with all the smile I could muster.

“Your husband, he is alive?”

“Yes, thank God.” I gave him an update. “Thank you again for your help.”

He waved his hand as if it were nothing, then said, “You mentioned your husband was
to see the king tonight, and my friend and I wondered if perhaps his important matter
could be discussed with anyone other than the king?”

Instantly coming to full alert, I said carefully, “It would depend on his position
in the government.”

“Someone, perhaps, in the oil ministry?”

I could scarcely believe it. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

The man beamed. “My friend’s father is with the oil ministry.”

I opened my mouth but closed it again. Something bugged me about this. It was just
too coincidental.

How convenient that a friend of a man in the oil ministry just happened to be at the
very place where the ambulance was involved in an accident… And that the guy had followed
us to the hospital…a whole hour later.

“It’s very kind of you to offer,” I said carefully, “but my husband is incoherent,
incapable of conveying his message.”

The man looked indecisive, as though what I said confused him. Apparently it wasn’t
what I was supposed to say. His dark eyes moved downward, looking at the
abaya
before he met my gaze again. “Perhaps
you
would care to speak to my friend’s father?”

Yeah, right. That clinched it. Probably he was a flunkey of Hakeem’s, sent to follow
the ambulance and make certain we went to the hospital and stayed there.

Or was his job something more sinister?

Whatever his game, I wasn’t playing. “Thank you, but no. If you’ll excuse me, I’m
going to check on my husband.” I turned to walk away but hadn’t taken two steps before
the man grabbed me, one arm clutching me around my bruised middle, causing so much
pain I felt nauseous. His other hand pressed over my mouth.

My mind was suddenly filled with visions of grainy video of captives bound and gagged
while men in black balaclavas pointed rifles at their heads.

Hell
, no. I was
not
going with this guy.

Raising my foot, I simultaneously stomped on his instep and threw my head back to
smash into his face.

He grunted in pain and loosened his hold long enough for me to twist away. I jerked
the
abaya
up to my knees and took off at a dead run, headed for the double doors at the end
of the hall.

I skidded to a stop and reached for the handle, twisted, and met total resistance.
Same with the other door.
Both locked
. I peered through the narrow window and saw another hallway, this one with real,
live human beings. I pounded on the door, desperate to get someone’s attention, aware
my attacker was quickly catching up to me.

A man with a lab coat over his
thobe
glanced over and saw me. He shook his head, pointing to a sign on the wall in Arabic
that I couldn’t read. Then he turned and walked away. This must be part of the men’s
area of the hospital. I wanted to scream. I was going to be abducted and hauled off
to God knew where, to endure God knew what, once again simply because
I didn’t have a penis.

I was pissed beyond belief, and scared out of my mind.

Whipping back around, I waited for the man I’d thought to be a friend to get closer,
then I bent low and dashed around him, barely managing to dodge his grappling arms.
But my euphoria at success was short-lived. Another man, the one who’d been with him
at the back of the wrecked ambulance, stood at the end of the hall. He was much quicker,
and when I tried to dart around him, he tripped me. I went flying and hit the floor
with a groan of major pain. If my rib wasn’t broken before, it was now. Despite my
lack of breath, I scrambled to get to my feet, but before I could find purchase on
the slick floor, the man grabbed me up and hauled me, kicking and screaming, through
a door off the hall.

Then everything went black.

…

I dreamed Robichaud and I got married and had five daughters, ranging in age from
a wee baby to a sixteen year old. He’d bought a car for the sixteen year old and I
was upset about it, determined not to spoil our children. But he wouldn’t listen,
and told me he was her daddy and it was his prerogative to spoil her. She was beautiful,
with dainty hands and feet, and fine features. Driving off in a Land Rover with all
her sisters except the baby along for the ride, she waved merrily to me and the baby
in my arms. Seconds later, an ambulance came out of nowhere and hit her head-on. The
Land Rover exploded into flames. I screamed in horror.