By the time Albie had stalled his landing until the fighter was short of fuel, Rayford had been dozing more than two hours. Albie woke him with the news that they had not yet heard back from David.
"Not good," Rayford said, placing yet another call to New Babylon. No answer. "You have a computer, Albie?"
"A subnotebook, but it's got satellite capability."
"Programmed to communicate with David?" "If you've got his coordinates, I can make it work." Rayford found the machine in Albie's flight bag. "Batteries are low," he said.
"Plug in to the plane's power," Albie said. "I don't do heavy-duty stuff on batteries anyway."
"Keep the power on after we land," Rayford said. "This could take a while."
Albie nodded and got on the radio to the GC outpost. "GC NB4047 to Peterson Tower."
"You ought to know we're now Carpathia Memorial, GC," came the reply.
"My mistake, tower," Albie said. "First time here in I don't know how long." He winked at Rayford, who glanced up from his computer work. Albie had never been in the States before.
"Gonna hafta take the Memorial out of our name, aren't we, 4047?"
"Come back?"
"He is risen."
Albie rolled his eyes at Rayford. "Yeah, I heard. That's something, eh?"
"You're supposed to reply with 'He is risen indeed.' "
Rayford pantomimed sticking his finger down his throat. Albie shook his head. "Well, I sure believe that, tower," he said, glancing at Rayford and pointing up.
"Business here?"
"Deputy Commander with confidential orders."
"Name?"
"Marcus Elbaz."
"One moment." "Low on fuel, tower."
"Short on people here, Commander Elbaz. Give me a minute."
"We're putting down either way," Albie told Rayford, who was busy pecking in the details that would orient Albie's computer global-positioning hardware to a satellite that would link him directly with David's computer. "There you are, sir," the tower said. "I see you on the system." "Roger."
"Don't have you assigned out this way, though. You been to Kankakee?"
"That's where I came from." "And your business here?" "Repeat, confidential orders." "Oh, yes, sorry. Anything we can help with?" "Refueling and a ground vehicle should have been arranged."
"As I say, sir, we don't have your disposition here. We can refuel you, no problem, with the proper authorization code. Ground transportation is scarce."
"I'll trust you to figure something out." "We're very shorthanded and-" "You mentioned that." "-and frankly, sir, there's no one here near your rank."
"Then I expect whoever's in command to obey my order for transportation."
A long pause.
"I'll, uh, pass that word along, sir."
"Thank you."
"And you're cleared to land."
David awoke in the palace hospital, his head throbbing so he could barely open his eyes. He shared a room with two sleeping patients. His clothes had been removed, and he lay there in a flimsy gown, an IV in his hand, his watch on a stand next to him. Holding it before his bleary eyes was almost more than he could bear. Twenty-one hundred hours. It couldn't be!
He tried to sit up and was aware of bandages around his head and over his ears. He heard his own pulse and felt pain with every beat. It was dark outside, but a silent TV monitor showed pilgrims still in the courtyard, passing by, kneeling, bowing, worshiping, praying to the gigantic statue of Nicolae.
On David's other side was the remote control. He didn't want to wake the other patients, but the captioning system was in Arabic. He fiddled with it until it changed to English, and the captions merely represented songs piped into the courtyard as people slowly passed by the image. He stared as the camera pulled back to show the immense crowd, seemingly as big as for the funeral, snaking a mile outside the palace.
David panicked. He had been away from his phone and computer longer than he had been in months. He craned his neck looking for a phone, and the pain nearly drove him to his pillow again. He pulled a cord ostensibly connected to the nurses' station, but no one came. He knew the ratio between nurses and patients was ridiculously low, but surely they knew he was a director. That should count for something, However they were hydrating him was working, because he had to relieve himself in a bad way. No bedpan for him. He played with the controls on the side of the bed until one railing lowered. He grimaced as he swung his legs off the side, pausing to let the throbbing subside and catch his breath.
Finally he put both hands on the edge of the bed and eased himself to the floor. The marble was incongruously cold for such a hot part of the world, but it felt good. He stood, swaying, dizzy, waiting for his equilibrium to catch up. When he felt steadier he stepped toward the bathroom, reminded by a tug at his wrist that he was still hooked to the IV. He stepped back and wiggled the metal stand on rollers away from the wall and the end of the bed, but as he dragged it with him, it caught.
A monitor cord was plugged into the wall. He tried to remove it, but it wouldn't budge from the connection or the stand. David knew there had to be some simple trick to it. Maybe it was screwed opposite of normal or you had to push to pull it, or something. All he knew was, he had to go. Painful as it might be, he yanked at the tape, which pulled hairs on his hand, then pulled the needle out with one motion. The sting brought tears to his eyes, and as the solution dripped on the floor, he made one feeble attempt to turn the stopper, then just tied the cord and headed for the bathroom.
Within seconds he heard the alarm informing the nurses' station that an IV had come loose. He opened the closet on his way back, and though his clothes were there, his phone was not. His mind nearly went blank from pain and fear. Was this the end? Would someone dial back the numbers of Trib Force members who may have tried to reach him? He could have already been discovered. Should he just find Annie and get out of there? What if she was already dead? She would want him to escape and not risk his life in a vain attempt to be sure of her.
Not a chance. He would not leave without her or without knowing for sure whether she was dead.
"What are you doing out of bed?" It was not a nurse but a female orderly.
"Bathroom," he said.
"Back to bed," she said. "What have you done with your IV?"
"I'm fine," he said.
"We have bedpans and-"
"I already went-now just-"
"Sir! Shh! I can hear you and so can everyone else on this floor. Your roommates are sleeping."
"I just need-"
"Sir, do I need to get someone in here with restraints? Now quiet down!"
"I am being quiet! Now-" Suddenly David realized the bandages over his ears made him talk louder.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm Director Hassid. I need to find-"
"Oh! You're the director. Are you a lightning victim?"
"Yeah, I took a bolt right through the top of my head, but here I stand."
"You don't have to-"
"Sorry. No, I just fainted in the heat, and I'm fine."
"You had surgery."
"Minor, now-"
"Sir, if you're the director, I'm supposed to tell someone when you're awake."
"Why?" And why had she asked about the lightning? Was Annie a victim, and did they somehow connect him with her? He didn't want his mind to run away with him.
"I don't know, sir. I just do what I'm told. Six nurses and two aides are handling this whole floor, and some floors have fewer staff than that, so-"
"I need to know where my phone is. I carry it with me, and it's not in my uniform. I know you're going to tell me to stay away from my uniform anyway, but-"
"On the contrary, sir. You were sponge bathed when you were brought here, and if you're ambulatory, I think you're supposed to get dressed."