“And what do you want from her?” Ted asked.
“Someone who loves her has hired me and my organization to bring her back safely,” I replied. “I want to help her.”
A medic in blue scrubs came through the double doors and scanned the room. His eyes settled on me and he headed over.
“Mr. Morgan?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Your colleague is asking for you.”
“How is she?”
“She has a fractured rib and some minor contusions, but she seems OK otherwise. We’d like to keep her in overnight to rule out any neurological damage, but at this stage I don’t expect any complications. She should make a full recovery.”
“Give me a second, please,” I said, and the medic nodded and went to wait by the doors to the ER. “Please, Mr. Eisner, we just want to help Beth. If you know anything...” I left my remark hanging.
He shook his head and looked down at his feet, which kicked aimlessly at the linoleum.
Giving up on Ted, I turned to Rafael. “Coming?” I asked, and he nodded.
We headed for the emergency room, and that was when Ted Eisner finally spoke.
“I have a tracker on my car. Put it on a couple years ago when they offered me a discount on my premium. I gave Beth my car.”
“Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Eisner. I appreciate it. Can you find out the details?” I asked Rafael. “Give them to Maureen Roth. See if she can get a fix.”
Rafael nodded and hung back to talk to Ted.
I followed the medic through the double doors and along a corridor into the emergency room. Bays were separated by screens and drapes, but I still managed to see some of the human misery concealed within: a man with a bloodied stomach who looked as though he’d been stabbed; a kid with a broken arm; an emaciated woman who was totally out of it, being questioned by a doctor who was asking about her opiate intake.
The medic led me to the sixth bay, and behind the curtain I found Jessie sitting up in bed. She was wearing a hospital gown, and pulled up a thin blanket when I entered.
“I’ll leave you to talk,” the medic said, before withdrawing.
“Sorry, boss,” she said.
“What for?” I asked.
“Not being quick enough. Letting myself get taken out.”
“Don’t even start,” I said. “They were pros. They would have made rough work of anyone.”
“Well, I feel bad about it.” She moved and immediately grimaced.
“How do you feel?”
“Like someone dropped an elephant on my chest. They want to keep me overnight.”
“That’s OK. I’m going to follow up a lead,” I said. “Ted Eisner’s car is fitted with a tracker. He lent it to Elizabeth Singer.”
Rafael entered, his phone to his ear.
“Mo-bot has been able to get a location,” he said after he hung up. “The vehicle is parked outside a motel in Bloomsburg.”
“You bring a car?” I asked, and he nodded. “I want you to stay with Jessie a while. Make sure she’s OK...”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she cut in, but I ignored her.
“Take care of any insurance and bills, and make sure she rests,” I told Rafael. “You know how stubborn she is.”
Jessie scoffed and immediately gasped in pain.
“The silver Mercedes M-Class parked out front,” Rafael said, handing me his car key.
“Thanks,” I replied. “I’m going to drive out to Bloomsburg and see if I can find Beth Singer and the kids.”
“Be careful, Jack,” Jessie said.
“Always,” I replied.
Chapter 22
Floyd woke to a mouth-watering sweet smell. He took a moment to orientate himself, and remembered he was on the floor in Christine and John’s mountain home in Kamdesh. They’d given him horsehair cushions and a set of colorful blankets, and told him to bed down in an area in the far corner of the open-plan living space, away from the window and partition that marked out their sleeping quarters. Floyd had slept in some unusual places, but there was something odd about sharing a couple’s home while they slept a few yards away, separated by nothing more than a woven drape and some screens. Christine — or Chris as she preferred to be called — had explained over dinner that the Kom people had a communal approach to life and many generations of the same family would share a space like this. Floyd didn’t consider himself a prude, but the idea of sharing such an intimate space with others didn’t appeal to him. He had thought about insisting on sleeping in the stable on the ground level.
When he sat up, Floyd was very glad he hadn’t. The stable didn’t have any windows, and sleeping there would have deprived him of one of the most breath-taking views of his life. The snow-covered rooftops of Kamdesh were laid out before him like powdered steps, and beyond were wispy clouds of mist, an expansive valley, and the cedar-packed slope of a high mountain peak. It was a truly beautiful scene and Floyd understood why John and Chris had positioned their sleeping area near the window, even though it couldn’t have been the warmest place in the house.
“Morning,” John said.
He was standing over the stove in a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt, stirring something in a small cast-iron pot.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” Floyd replied.
“We’re going to be stuck here a while.” John nodded toward the window. “That mist is the edge of a storm front that’s rolling in.”
Floyd was itching to get started. He needed to reach a phone or an Internet connection. “Can’t we beat it?”
John shook his head. “Radio forecast says two but I reckon we’ve only got an hour before it hits. It will be a complete white-out.”
Floyd sighed.
“Forecast says it should be OK by the end of tomorrow,” John said, by way of consolation.
“It will be gone by nightfall,” Chris said, appearing from behind the drape that demarcated the sleeping area. She was dressed in a pair of black leggings and a black vest top.
John shrugged. “I’ve learned never to bet against her ability to read the sky.”
“We can spend today preparing supplies and packing. Aim to leave first thing in the morning,” she said.
John took the pan off the stove and put it on a black warming plate that hung over the open fire. He spooned white meal into three earthenware bowls and carried them to the table.
“Get it while it’s hot.”
Floyd got to his feet and joined the couple.
“What is it?” he asked, taking a seat at the table and lowering his head to breathe in the scent of the steam coming off his bowl.
“Juvór,” Chris replied, as she sat down opposite him. “It’s a maize porridge.”
“I like it with cinnamon and honey,” John added.
“Too much honey,” Chris remarked.
“How did an American and a Brit end up here?” Floyd asked.
He took his first mouthful. It was heavier than oat porridge and required more chewing, but he could tell it was good mountain fuel.
“Sometimes life takes strange turns,” John said. “I found this place five years ago while on assignment. I was a journalist covering the war.”
“And you fell in love with the place?” Floyd asked.
“Sort of. I realized it was a good spot to get lost,” John replied. “Off the beaten track. World doesn’t change much up here.”
“Doesn’t change much at all,” Chris agreed. “Makes you realize what’s important.”
She took John’s hand and squeezed it.
Floyd ate his breakfast and resisted the obvious question. If these two wanted him to know why they needed to disappear, they would have already told him. He didn’t want to alienate the people who’d saved his life and offered to guide him home, simply to satisfy his own curiosity.