The Libra Affair (16 page)

She opened her car door and got out. She waited on the inside of the door.

The police car came to a stop. There were two men. Both exited the cruiser at the same time.

She held her gun inside the doorframe, out of sight.

Both officers approached.

She pulled the weapon inside the sleeve of her dress.

“This is a restricted shoreline. What are you doing here?” one of the officers asked.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know,” she replied apologetically.

“Didn't you see the sign?” he asked, approaching her.

“No, I'm sorry.”

The officer extended his hand. “Your papers,” he said.

“Yes of course, let me get them.” She slipped her arm inside her dress and returned the gun to her leg strap.

When the officer reached Jordan's door, he noticed Isbel lying down in the backseat and Ben leaning against his door. “There's no sleeping on the beach,” he said.

Jordan looked at the nametag pinned on the officer's shirt as she emerged from the car. “I'm sorry, Officer Tavaazo,” she said to him.

“You'll have to pay a fine for this.” He looked at her papers. “Mrs. Ahed.”

“Yes, of course, officer.”

“What's wrong with him?” the officer was referring to Ben.

“My husband, he's very sick,” she told him. “He can't keep anything down. We had to stop.”

“What's the problem?”

“Flu. I wouldn't get too near,” she warned. “My daughter is sick, too.”

“Your papers,” the officer said, taking a step back.

She handed him the papers along with her most recent passport. “This is my sister's car,” she added. Not only had she exchanged the plates, she stole the registration papers as well.

“You are not from around here, are you, Mrs. Ahed?” the officer said to her.

“No, sir.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Home.”

“And where is home?”

“Tehran.”

He eyed her. “Yes, your papers say as much. I'll be back.” He returned to his vehicle while his partner remained alongside the car.

No one spoke while they waited for the officer to return.

And when he did, the officer told Jordan pointblank, “I'm afraid there's a problem.”

“Oh?” she replied meekly.

“Yes. The registration is past due.”

“Is it?”

“You'll have to come to the station. The law is clear, you may not drive a vehicle with an unpaid registration fee.”

“Oh.”

“You can pay the fine for sleeping on the beach, too,” he added.

“I could pay it in Tehran,” she suggested.

“The municipal offices do not open to the public until Monday morning. With it Saturday, it means you will not be able to drive the car any further than the station today.”

Jordan dropped her face into her hands. She began to weep. “We need to get home,” she cried.

“There's nothing I can do about it,” the officer said. “You can find a — ”

Ben unexpectedly sprang forward in his seat and expelled a loud, vigorous moan.

Startled, Tavaazo jerked.

“He's delirious,” she quickly explained and jumped inside the car. She faced Ben and spoke to him in Farsi. “It will be all right. It'll be fine.”

“What's wrong with him?” the officer demanded to know.

Isbel started to cry.

Jordan faced the girl. “Your father will be all right, don't worry, dear.”

“Step out of the vehicle,” Tavaazo said to Jordan. Then he spoke to his partner, “Go check on that man.”

“Please,” Jordan said, “just a moment.” Then she leaned over to Ben and whispered, “Cut it out,” while rubbing his back as if comforting him.

The other officer rounded the car and opened Ben's car door.

Ben writhed, grasping his stomach.

“This man needs help,” the officer said to Tavaazo.

“Please.” Jordan got out of the car. “Let me see to him.”

Ben slumped over and fell out of the car and onto the ground, where he landed on all fours and began gagging.

The officer hopped back just as Ben threw up.

When Jordan reached Ben's side, she sank to the ground and wept. Like a good wife, she spoke words of comfort to him, but not without keeping a vigilant eye on the officers, who were busy discussing what they should do next.

Isbel started to cry for her father. “Baba,” she said — the term of endearment for one's father.

“He'll be all right,” Jordan called to Isbel. The girl's timing couldn't have been any better. Yet, Jordan could see this was no act for the girl. She was genuinely scared.

“Okay, okay,” Tavaazo said. “You can come to the station now. I'll find someone in the office to help you.”

Jordan looked up at him. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You're very kind,” she said to him.

“Let's get your husband in the car,” Tavaazo said. Together with his partner, they took Ben by the arms and lifted him to his feet.

“Thank you,” Jordan said again.

As soon as Ben was upright, Tavaazo asked, “What happened to this man?”

Ben groaned, then convulsed.

“He's epileptic,” Jordan started to explain. “He took a fall down some stairs.” And before she said anything further, the officer looked at Ben and asked if he agreed with her claim.

Ben heaved again.

“He's going to throw up,” Jordan said.

The officers let go of him and Ben dropped to his knees. Ben grunted, hacked, but all that he expelled was dry air.

When Ben seemed to settle down, Tavaazo said to his partner, “Let's get this man back in his car.”

Together, the men helped Ben inside the car.

Tavaazo turned to Jordan next. “This man is too sick to travel. He needs a doctor,” he told her.

“If I could get him home, he'll be fine,” she said.

“No, no. He needs to go to the hospital now.” Tavaazo wasn't backing down.

“He has a doctor,” Jordan tried to explain.

“
You
,” Tavaazo stared at her, “you will follow me to the hospital. We will drop your husband off at the emergency room. They will see to him. Then
you
will follow me over to the station. Are we clear?”

“Yes.” Jordan returned to the driver's seat.

There was nothing she could do. She had to follow the man's orders. Ben lay slumped against the door. Isbel had quieted. But their silence was earsplitting.

On the highway, Ben rose upright and was the first to speak. “That was close, wouldn't you say?”

Jordan looked at him. She didn't quite know what to say to him.

“How'd I do?”

She drew in a deep breath.

“So?” he asked again. Then gripped his stomach.

“Ben, Ben, Ben.”

“I know. I was great.”

“If you ever go rogue on me like that again, I might just — ”

“You're welcome,” he interrupted her, then squeezed his abdomen a little harder as he bent forward.

“You can stop the show now.”

“Yeah, okay.” But he continued to hold his stomach.

Concerned, she glanced at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm good,” he answered. “I guess all the excitement just churned everything up inside.”

“Clearly,” she agreed. “Do you know how close you were to blowing our cover, Mr. Ahed?”

“It sure beats the heck out of taking a ride downtown to the station. Don't you think, Mrs. Ahed?” he said smugly, trying to sit upright.

“You have no idea how close you are to the truth.”

“I thought the whole barf routine came off really well, what'd you think?” He keeled forward again and squeezed his gut. “Maybe a little too well,” he added.

“Let me lay a little bad news on you. With that little act of yours, you're now taking a ride to the hospital.”

“Come again?” He glanced up at her with a surprised look.

“You convinced those officers you were next to death sick.”

“Why didn't you just say I've already been seen by a doctor?”

“I did. I told them you had a doctor. That we just needed to get home.”

“And wasn't that good enough?” His voice nervously rose.

“It didn't cut it. And another thing, you're lucky those cops didn't recognize who you really are.”

“Yeah. Wonder why?”

“I told them you took a fall down a set of stairs.”

“But if I go to the hospital, someone might figure it out. We can't go.”

“It's not exactly like you have a choice here. In fact, you're getting a personal escort.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, way.”

“So what's the deal? Am I going to be treated for the flu?”

“And an epileptic seizure,” she added.

“Hello?”

“I had to give them some explanation for the fall. And don't forget, it's not just your face that's bruised.”

“So they think I'm an epileptic?” His voice raised in pitch as he sat upright and leaned against the car door.

“They will until the hospital does the blood work and figures out you're not.”

“Jordan, we've got to do something fast. They're going to figure out something's not right. They'll figure out who I am. Then what?” He was beginning to panic.

“Frankly, I'm shocked those two cops
didn't
make the connection. Any good cop ought to have been able to see beyond a few bruises and a half weeks' worth of beard.”

“So you're just going to drive to the hospital?”

“I'm sorry, if you hadn't said anything, we might already have been on our way. So now, you're just going to have to go with it … and hope we get out of this alive.”

“But we're not really going to the hospital.”

“No,
you're
going to the hospital.
I'm
going to the police station to pay an expired registration fee on this vehicle we borrowed
and
pay a fine for sleeping on the beach in a restricted area.”

“You can't be serious. Not after what I've seen you capable of doing.”

“You mean the Jordan you just met or the one you already knew?”

“I'm feeling a little sick here,” he said, leaning forward again.

“Just keep your mouth shut and pray to God I make it back before they treat you with anything weird.”

“What if someone makes the connection and figures out who I am? What about Isbel? The authorities are probably looking for her, too.”

“No doubt,” she agreed.

“What if you don't get back? Am I supposed to let them inject me with some kind of strange medication?”

“And if they do, which they probably will, hopefully, you'll live.” She didn't sugarcoat this one. He needed to hear it straight.

Ben rocked back and forth. “Why didn't you just take those guys out when you had the chance? What was the point in handing me the gun?”

“Changed my mind. Dead cops are a problem,” she told him.

“In case you haven't noticed, I've been a real pal so far. I know you're into something you can't talk about. I'm not a complete idiot. All right, maybe I am a little dense here, but I haven't questioned you about whatever it is you're doing. You kind of look like you got it under control. But I have to tell you, I'm only going along with this little game of yours so we can both go home. Which I think is real generous of me, considering everything. But this — ”

“We're here.” She stopped the car at the emergency room entrance.

The look in his eyes was desperate. Scared. “Let's take them out,” he blurted out. “All of them. Now.”

“And have every cop in Iran looking for us?”

“Aren't they already?”

“No, not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“The authorities are looking for a Mr. Gustav Kominski. You're now my husband, Mr. Reza Ahed.”

“Do something,” he pleaded.

“Listen to me, whatever you do, do not speak English. Don't speak at all. If you do anything stupid, they'll be on to you.”

Ben's hands trembled.

“Okay,” Jordan said to him, “they're getting out of their vehicle. You'll be fine. Take a deep breath.”

“I feel sick.” He keeled over as he grasped his stomach.

“Good. That's exactly how you need to feel.” She rubbed his back.

The attendant pushed a wheelchair to the car. The officer opened the door and said something to Jordan in Farsi.

Ben felt the urge to throw up, but there was nothing left in his gut.

One of the attendants spoke to Ben.

Even if able, Ben couldn't respond; he was nauseous.

Inside, the triage nurses had him undressed, outfitted in a hospital gown, and lying in a hospital bed before he knew what had hit him. The attending nurse felt his forehead and tried speaking to him, but he kept his eyes closed.

The nurse nudged him.

He opened his eyes just in time to see her shaking an old-fashioned mercury thermometer. Following along when she spoke next, he opened his mouth. A moment later, the nurse wrapped a cuff around his bicep and began pumping it up with air to measure his blood pressure.

A second nurse threw back the curtain and entered the bay. She was carrying a caddy full of medical supplies. She set it down next to Ben. Without asking, she took his hand and prepped it for an IV.

He watched as she inserted the IV into his arm.

Go with it, just go with it.
It became his mantra, because it wasn't as if he had a choice.

The first nurse withdrew the thermometer and held it to the light. The second nurse drew a couple vials of blood. They both seemed to have what they needed so they left, pulling the curtain closed.

Just as he started to relax, the first nurse reappeared.

She seemed to be asking him questions, but all he could do was whimper and whine.