The Red Room

38

The text of a thumbs-up spurs Grace on. Time is more critical than ever — if they are to understand how the Israeli intercept of the pacemakers fits into Nawriz Melemet’s purchase of the Harmodius, it comes down to the next few hours. Knox works to avoid frightening her; sees her as a neophyte in the field. The great unspoken that lies between them is that the bullet that killed their driver, Ali, was meant for her. Her meddling in Mashe Okle’s identity resulted in her abduction. It was nearly immediately followed with an attempt to kill. Although she considers valid Knox’s theory of a possible exchange between the heavily sanctioned Iran and one of its trading partners, she can’t dismiss her own role. There could have been a trip wire in the FedEx server that sourced the shipment of the pacemakers; a mistake could have been made that alerted others to her probing. Working off the axiom “knowledge is power,” Grace is controlled by her training: the more she knows about the Israeli switching of the pacemakers, the more negotiating power she and Knox possess; the more possible it may be for them to talk, instead of fight, their way out of this.

They won’t win a fight against Mossad.

The nurse is taking her sweet time, leaving Grace to wonder if she’s been set up, if the delay is a stall tactic to allow hospital security time to reach them. The wall clock appears to be part of the conspiracy. Grace makes her move into a hallway that accesses examination rooms. She steels herself, prepares for a rebuke or reprimand. But within a few paces, she’s just another patient among many keeping appointments.

As she reaches the nursing station, she identifies the woman she talked to by the woman’s wide-eyed response. The tell is the woman’s glance to the phone, as if it will save her. That is when Grace knows security has indeed been called.

“I need that device, now!” Grace says sharply. “This is a matter of international security, of the utmost importance.” She draws the attention of two other nurses. “Your call to hospital security will only delay the inevitable and put you in a situation with which you will wish you had never involved yourself.” Her guess proves accurate. Mention of hospital security devastates the nurse.

“If I am not out of here before they arrive, if I am delayed because of actions you have taken… I hesitate to think of the repercussions for you.”

“When I spoke to the doctor—”

“Do you think a doctor has any say in the United Nations’ efforts to police manufacturing standards? Do you think it is in the best interests of your doctor to install defective devices? I will speak with this doctor now.” Grace appreciates the resulting terror that crosses the nurse’s face. “That, or you will give me one of the pacemakers from the lot I specified. Your choice.”

She allows the woman time to consider her options. “I am happy to await security. You will be less so.”

The nurse reaches into her pocket — she had the pacemaker all along. It is sealed in hard plastic against a thick paper backing and rattles like a child’s toy as she passes it with a trembling hand.

Grace accepts the package with a sniff. “An exit, other than reception?” She turns in that direction at the moment a tall man in sport coat, dark slacks and black athletic shoes arrives at the end of the short hallway. He carries an intensity that immediately identifies him to Grace.

The nurse’s eyes flick, perhaps unintentionally, to her right.

Grace is off in that direction before anything more is said. Turns down a hallway, picking up her pace. Hears voices back at the nurse’s station, including a man’s. She reaches a T, looks right, then left. Spots a green EXIT sign with an arrow left.

It’s a maze. She’s running now, painfully aware that the security man can be but a matter of paces behind. By running, she has tipped her hand, a mistake she now regrets. The starting pistol has been fired. This man, double her size and weight, is certain to match or exceed her speed. He has full knowledge of the building. She has only her training, her wits.

Grace punches through the exit and into an echoing stairwell, her hand already fishing lipstick out of her purse. She tosses the lipstick down the stairs straight ahead and then bounds up the flight to her left, two treads at a time; dives onto and across the landing as she hears the door smack open behind her. She lies prostrate on the cool concrete. She will lose precious seconds trying to get to her feet if he guesses correctly and follows her up.

But the descending sound of the rolling lipstick carries him down. His shoes clap on the landing as he leaps and turns the corner. Grace nimbly finds her footing and scurries silently up the stairs. A volley of footfalls below stops abruptly as the security man suspends his descent to listen, perhaps to look down the narrow gap between the rails. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, he prolongs the silence. They are a landing apart, unmoving.

The moment she hears him speak into his radio, calling for backup or video assistance, she moves. She’s outnumbered and the technology she so loves is now working against her. She has no choice but to move, as silently and quickly as possible. She’s aware now of unseen cameras bearing down on her, of security personnel rallying to intercept her. Of Knox needing her at the university. Even if she’s able to talk herself out of the situation — however unlikely — she can’t afford the delay.

She’s up the stairs as lightly as her feet will carry her. Perhaps not lightly enough. The security man has reversed, ascending as well.

Reaching the fourth floor, Grace takes the door. Faced with another long hallway, she balks. This is the OB/GYN wing, judging by the presence of stirrups on the exam tables. She backs up to the first exam room, closes herself in and climbs onto the table fully clothed. She throws her feet into the stirrups and pulls a linen over her, hiding her face behind a tent formed by her bent knees.

She hears footfalls stop in the corridor. He’s measured the empty hallway, perhaps. Believes he should have caught sight of her.

The door is thrown open. A pause. Grace sees the problem now: if he looks into the mirror above the sink, the angle will allow him to see her. She turns her face away.

The door shuts without a word. She exhales.