Jihad Read Online Free PDF Page B

Özdilick asked, pulling the curtain closed behind him.
    “Very good,” said Ramil without looking up as he closed the wound.
    “Still out of it?”
    “He stirred a bit,” said Ramil.
    “Were you worried about the low blood pressure?”
    Lia saw something flicker in Ramil’s eyes, but the doctor recovered, saying that it had thrown him as well, but the CT had shown there was nothing wrong.
    “I don’t like the fact that he is still unconscious,” said Ozdilick.
    “No. But the CT was quite clear.”
    “Perhaps we should do another with contrast. Or an MRI.”
    “Well, if it is necessary,” said Ramil. “Perhaps you’ll want to call in your own man.”
    “I have. He hasn’t answered his pager.”
    “A different specialist then. A second opinion is always welcome.”
    “What the hell is he doing?” Rockman asked Lia. “That’s not in the script.”
    No kidding, Lia thought. But she wasn’t in any position to object. The Turkish doctor agreed that it would not hurt to have another consult, and then left the cubicle.
    “Why did you tell him to do that?” hissed Lia after he left.
    “It’s what I would do. He’s worried.”
    “The scan will find the device.”
    “We can control the appearance of the MRI if necessary,” said Ramil. “But the machine is located in a separate building and the experts who run it are not at the hospital today. Inserting the dye is time consuming and, given the patient’s present symptoms, I doubt anyone would recommend it. The drug you gave him should wear off in a few minutes.”
    Before she could tell Ramil not to count on it, their patient groaned loudly and opened his eyes.
     
    “HOW’S THE SIGNAL?” Dean asked Rockman.
    “Diagnostics are fine. We’re picking him up outside from the cars as well. The buggee has been successfully buggered.” Rockman laughed, as if this were the funniest joke in the world.
    “We’ll wrap up and get out of here,” said Dean, in no mood for laughs.
    “The bodyguard is coming back into the building,” said Rockman, seriously again. “Two more men are with him.”
    “They police?”
    “No. The police seem a little disorganized.”
    “Haven’t they found the guy Red Lion’s bodyguards shot?”
    “The bodyguards hustled the body away. They don’t know there’s a crime yet.”
    Dean slid the small computer into his pocket, then reached to the small Walther pistol secreted at the small of his back, just making sure it was there before going back toward Lia and Ramil.
     
    THE CURTAIN FLEW open with such force that Ramil jerked back. The bodyguard lurched toward him, then veered away, surprised to see Asad sitting up on the bed.
    “You’re ready?” said the bodyguard in Arabic.
    The terror leader didn’t answer.
    “He should stay overnight,” said Ramil, pointing to Asad. “We did a scan, and we’re confident that there is no hematoma. Still, he was unconscious for a while, and given a concussion of this type—”
    “He has to come now.”
    “He’s not ready,” said Ramil so forcefully that the bodyguard backed off.
    “I will go now, Doctor,” said Asad, his voice very soft.
    “You have had quite a sharp blow to the head,” Ramil told him. “You should rest.”
    Asad started to get up. The bodyguard hesitated, but then helped. The two men whispered together, the bodyguard trying to persuade him that the doctor’s advice should be heeded, but Asad insisted.
    “You must take something for the pain,” said Ramil. “Aspirin would be best. But if it is stronger, here is a prescription.”
    “I don’t feel much pain, praise be to Allah.” Asad took a faltering step.
    “There will be a ringing in your ears, and pressure, sensitivity to light,” added Ramil, describing the aftereffects of the drugs he had been given rather than a concussion.
    “The sutures should be removed in about a week. If there is bleeding or more pain—here.” Ramil took a card from his pocket and folded the prescription around