The following story is a work of gay fiction. If the subject matter is offensive to you or you are too young, please exit now. This work is the property of the author and may not be reproduced without permission. John Tucker JETjt@aol.com
SUPER JEFF
Chapter Twenty-seven
DR. JEFF RICHARD'S POV
The biopsy procedures had gone well. The samples had been sent to the lab for analysis, though I wanted to check them myself and had asked that a small sample of the removed tissue be kept for my examination under a microscope.
Mel was going out of her mind with boredom. I finally asked Bin Laden if she could have something to read to keep her mind busy. He was surprised at her knowledge but agreed to my request, sending over several books, including the Koran. She was more than grateful, spending many of her hours reading. The room had gotten ratty too, so I asked Bin Laden for cleaning materials so that we could keep the room in acceptable shape. From that period on an orderly had shown up each day to clean and to also make sure that we had clean linens and paper goods. Osama even sent over several English language newspapers that talked about our deaths. That did nothing to cheer us up, but we read every word in the papers just to pass the idle hours.
In the afternoon of the procedures, I had just returned from taking the biopsies when the orderly appeared with a small cart full of cleaning supplies. He was a ragged-looking old man, stooped over, with wrinkled dark skin and shaggy gray hair. As he busied himself around the room we moved from wherever he was working so as not to impede his progress. After removing the sheets from the beds (yes we had two beds) and replacing them, he looked into my eyes, then glanced down at his hands. I followed the movement of his eyes as he fluffed the pillow on my bed, sliding his hand underneath it, then removing his hand. The beginnings of a smile showed on the corner of his face, then he stood and placing the soiled linens on his cart, made his way to the door and knocked for the guards to unlock it for him. As the door opened he took hold of the cart handle and pushed it through the opening. The door again swung shut and we heard the keyed dead bolt slide back into place.
Knowing that the door had a peep hole installed so that the guards could look in to check on us if they wished, I kicked off my shoes, and climbed onto the bed as if to take a nap. Mel had resumed her reading as I slid my hand under the pillow, finding the object, a small piece of paper. I lay still for several minutes giving the guards plenty of time to get bored if they were watching before retracting my hand. Then getting up I walked to the bathroom, the only place that I believed was not watched. Taking no chances, I pulled down my pants and sat down on the stool, pretending to be evacuating my bowels. I placed my hand between my legs, and cupping the note so it was not visible to anyone but me, I read the words, "Have hope, Dr. Richards^ÅDestroy this note." Pretending that I was finished, I removed a few squares of toilet paper from the roll and stuck the note between the folds before wiping my bottom and dropping the paper in the water. Before standing up, I pushed down the flush handle, then stood up as the paper swirled down the drain.
The note left me elated! Someone from the outside knew we were there. I could hardly wait to tell Mel. I exited the bathroom and took a seat beside her, kissing her on the cheek.
"You're a bit amorous for this early in the day, don'cha think?" she said smiling and looking up from her book.
"It's never too early to hold you," I replied. "I just feel like a good hug would make my day."
"Far be it from me to spoil your day," she said as we stood and I took her in my arms.
Mel's hair was usually kept quite short, but during our lengthy trip it was noticeably longer. I buried my face in her hair near her ear as I hugged her.
"Don't change your facial expression," I whispered a warning. "We got a note through the orderly. It said, `Have hope, Dr. Richards.' Someone knows we're here!"
I pulled back and placed a kiss on her lips as I looked into her eyes. She understood and gave the guards a proper display of western affection. Finally pulling away, she said, "I'm not sure what's gotten into you today. I like it, but it will have to wait. I'm at an interesting part in my reading."
I simply said, "Yes Dear," as she sat back down and smiled with satisfaction. I'm sure the guards, if they were watching, thought I was a perfect example of a domesticated American male.
Chris' POV
Jeff and I had just finished our morning run when we got a call from Tyler. He asked us to get dressed and come by the office. Promising that we would after our shower, we wasted no time in the shower but then stopped for a few minutes to have some breakfast with Tyler and Dan's boys before we hopped into the Escalade for the short trip. Parking the large vehicle in one of the underground parking spots reserved for the Turners, we locked the white SUV and stepped into the elevator. As we got on, we saw an unmarked four door sedan pull into the garage. I guess that Tyler wasn't kidding about the security, though for the life of us, we rarely saw anyone following us.
As we stepped off the lift, we made our way to Tyler's office where we were waved inside by his male secretary.
"He's expecting you," the good looking young man said with a smile.
When we opened the door we saw the four Turner men waiting for us, seated around Tyler's conference table.
"Have a seat guys," Tyler directed, indicating chairs opposite him on one end of the table.
"Coffee, tea or a cold drink?" he offered.
"Just water for me," I said reaching for a plastic bottle from the tray in front of us.
"Me too," Jeff concurred. I handed him a bottle as I was retrieving mine.
"News?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, good news I hope," Tyler said smiling.
"The Israelis have agreed to help us. We have an agent inside the hospital that has seen your parents and got a note to them. They know that they've been found."
"Alright!" Jeff said excitedly. I was nearly as demonstrative as he was, as we gave each other a fist, then reached across the table to thank Tyler with a handshake.
"Now comes the hard part," Tyler continued. "I'll be leaving for the Middle East this afternoon. I need to know what's going on to make sure that your parents' safety is of prime concern."
"We want to go too," Jeff immediately requested.
"I think that's a bad idea," Tyler responded. "There is a more than even chance that your activities are being monitored by Al Qaeda. Your traveling to the Middle East would certainly raise a red flag.
"I don't want to be this far away," Jeff insisted.
"Perhaps we could compromise," Tyler said as if anticipating Jeff's demands. "We could all travel to London together, then you could stay there, while I continue on alone.'
Jeff obviously didn't like the idea, but knew that it was the best that we could get.
"Since England was the last place your parents were seen, it wouldn't be as obvious as your traveling to Israel. I can fly a circuitous route, stopping at our offices in Berlin, Rome and Athens on the way to make them think it's just a business trip."
"What time do we leave?" I asked.
"We'll leave at 12:30 and eat on the plane," Tyler said. "You'll just have time to gather a few things together. I've asked Sterling to pack for us all, but you may have some personal things you want to take. I'd suggest taking your golf clubs too."
"Golf clubs?" Jeff asked in surprise.
"Yes," Tyler answered. "After a couple of visits in London with the law enforcement people, I'd suggest that you run up to Scotland and play some golf. It would satisfy anyone following you that you were told by Scotland Yard whatever you wanted to know, mainly that they have made no progress in finding your parents. It would also give you something to do while you're waiting. I'll give you a satellite phone so that I can reach you at any time."
"You think this will take that long?" I asked. "We have school in a couple of weeks."
"It may take longer than that," Tyler replied. "If so, I think you need to return to California and start school."
"I'm not sure I like that," Jeff replied.
"Tough titty, my friend," Tyler said. "As I said before, your parents' safety is our prime concern. I can't let you make it more dangerous by rushing us or doing something out of character."
"You've made your point," Jeff declared. "I told you that as far as this whole thing goes, you're the boss. I meant it and I'm sorry if I sometimes get pushy."
"Apology accepted," Tyler said with a smile. "I know you both are anxious but you have to be patient. Of course, while you're there, you'll have constant security too."
"Yeah, you're guys are good," I responded. "We almost never see them, but sometimes like when we were getting in the elevator this morning we do."
Tyler got a strange look on his face, and then suggested that we all go over to the Aztec-Turner building for a few minutes before we head home.
Ron picked up the look on Tyler's face too, and began to move.
"Come on," he ordered as he grabbed Matt's hand, and waved to us with the other one.
It was like someone had yelled `fire!' as the four of us quickly exited the office and headed for the breezeway to the adjacent building. While we walked Tyler pulled out his cell phone and after pushing a speed-dial button began talking. We couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was obvious that he was excited."
"To the security office," Tyler shouted to Ron as we entered the other building, following Ron. Ron didn't run, but he sure walked fast. Tyler, who was behind us with Dan was `hoofing it' to catch up with us. Entering the security office, we paused as Tyler caught up. Tyler kept moving and as he passed us in the outer office, we followed.
"I've got the video ready," an operator who was seated at a computer said.
"Roll it," Tyler ordered.
For a couple of minutes we stared at four split-images of cars parked in the parking garage. Then we saw the white Escalade that we had been driving arrive, roll down the aisle then park. We saw us getting out, Jeff locking the car and our walk to the elevator.
As we entered the elevator cab, another image appeared on the screen. It was the blue sedan that I'd seen before the elevator doors closed. We watched the screen as the car pulled up behind the SUV we'd been riding in and stop. You could see a door open, and the driver disappear for a moment from the camera's view then reappear, closing the door. The vehicle then circled down the next aisle and exited the parking garage. It took a minute for the operator to fiddle with the recorder then the next view to come on the screen was from a camera mounted on the building. It showed a vehicle driving down the main entry, and a moment later, another vehicle pulling out of a surface parking space and exiting. Another moment passed as the operator showed the current scene from the parking garage. Behind the Escalade was a man in a suit with a large mirror at the end of a stick, looking under the tail end of the SUV. You could tell he saw something and he reached for his cell phone. Tyler's cell phone began to ring. Answering it, you could see the conversation between the man in the garage and our hunky friend.
"We'll evacuate the building," Tyler said. "I'll take care of it. You call the Metro bomb squad."
Tyler hit an alarm button and suddenly a noise, like WOOP, WOOP, WOOP', blasted through the building. Then the sound repeated. WOOP, WOOP, WOOP.' "Follow me," Tyler said as the sound went off the third time. I could see people leaving their desks heading for the nearest exit. We joined the crowd, exiting away from the building out to an adjacent grassy lunch area, shaded by trees about 100 feet from the building. As we gathered there, the four Turner guys, Chris and I stopped and made a small circle.
"Good observation Chris," Tyler said, complimenting me. "I'm pleased to say that my men were on top of the situation, but it means that the terrorists are not through yet. I'm not sure that you were specific targets, but I think that Al Qaeda is aware of our involvement in your parents' case. That's not good. We'll have to be particularly careful in the next few weeks, and probably for some time after."
"We'll still get to go to England won't we?" Jeff asked.
"Yes," Tyler said. "It might be even safer there than here. It should take a couple of weeks for them to find you again, and by then you'll either be on your way back home, or we'll already have your parents."
"What about Amanda?" I asked.
Tyler thought a minute.
"We'll call Amanda from the plane. If she and Rick want to go to England with us, we'll stop and pick them up. It will make a slightly longer trip, but it might be a good idea."
"What about me?" I asked. "I don't have a passport."
"Damn," Tyler swore, "I hadn't thought of that."
"I guess I could stay here if I have to," I offered.
"Let me work on that while you're at home packing," Ron said. "I'll have an answer for you in an hour or less."
All heads turned at the sound of approaching sirens. The bomb squad was arriving.
It took an hour while the bomb squad and the investigation team did their work. It only took about 20 minutes of that time to disarm the bomb and remove it from the premises. After that we all went back into the building. Ron, Matt and Dan all went to their offices, while Jeff & I followed Tyler to his. Jeff and I got ourselves drinks, at Tyler's invitation, then settled into a couple of comfortable chairs while Tyler took care of some last minute business. After about 40 minutes Tyler checked with security and they reported that Metro was just winding up their investigation and that we could go to the parking garage so we could leave in the Escalade.
Tyler took us over to Ron's office and when we entered Ron looked up from his desk.
"I was able to get Chris a temporary Visa," Ron reported. "It will be delivered to the plane at McCarran within the hour."
"You're a miracle worker," I said with pleasure. I had not looked forward to staying home while Jeff went off without me. I would never have asked him to stay back with me if I couldn't have gone though. Our parents were far too important to him.
"Yeah," Jeff agreed happily, showing a huge smile.
"It helps to know the right people," Ron said, seeing our relief. "I'm glad I could help."
"You sure have our thanks," Jeff said.
"You guys had better get home," Tyler directed. "I'm going to see Dan, then I'll be right along. I moved the flight time to 1 P.M. because of the bomb problem, but we're going to have to hustle to make that."
"Okay, see you at home," I said. "Thanks again Ron."
"You're welcome guys," he responded as we headed for the door.
Twenty minutes later we had finished packing and carried our bags into the main building. Putting them down, we went off in search of Frank and Paul. They were in the breakfast room and were sitting at the table talking to Sterling.
"Hi Frank," Jeff said with a smile as we entered the room. "How are you feeling today?"
"I'm doing really well, thanks," Frank said. "I'm really getting `cabin fever' though. I keep thinking of things I need to do at home."
"I hope you've been sitting on Frank," I told Paul. "We sure don't' want any long term problems with him working too hard."
"Don't worry about that," Paul said reassuringly. "I got it covered. In spite of Frank's impatience, talking to Sterling here has been fun since he and Frank have the same occupation. They've been trading recipes too. It makes me hungry just to listen to them."
"We've got some news guys," Jeff interjected.
"Yes, Sterling told us a little," Frank replied with a smile.
"They've found Mom and Dad in Damascus, and Tyler is going to Israel to oversee the rescue effort. Chris and I are going to London, to be closer than we are here. We're leaving right away."
"That's great!" Frank said, obviously pleased. "Paul and I are returning home on Sunday. I feel well enough to be alone and can get around fine as long as I don't do anything too strenuous. Paul needs to be back at work on Monday anyway."
"We'll keep in touch with you there, then," I said. "This thing may take a week or two, but if it takes longer we'll be back anyway for school."
"I was wondering about that," Frank admitted. "I'll make sure all your clothes are ready in case you come tearing in at the last minute."
"That's great! Thanks," Jeff replied.
Tyler entered the room, suitcases in hand.
"All ready guys?" he asked.
"Yep," Jeff answered.
"I'm sorry our getting to know each other was cut short," Tyler said to Paul and Frank. "We hope you'll stay for awhile and relax. Dan will be here as will the boys."
"We really appreciate your hospitality," Frank said. "You have such a beautiful home and Sterling has taken such good care of us. We do need to get back though. Paul has to work on Monday, and I'm feeling much better and stronger."
"Please don't rush off on our account," Tyler urged. "When you know when you want to leave, just let Sterling know. We have a couple of small jets that can run you home. They're rarely used during the weekend if you go that soon."
"Thanks Tyler," they both said.
"Come on boys," Tyler beckoned. "The big bird awaits."
JEFF'S POV
The news about Mom and Dad was great. I was amazed that in only about two hours after Tyler told us, we were in the air. A phone call once we gained some altitude gave Mandy the news and even though we couldn't be too explicit we told her there was more that we could tell her in person. She immediately said that she wanted to go too, but would check with Rick to see if he could go before deciding. Our pilot had filed two flight plans, the first was a direct polar flight to London, and the second would take us to Boston before jumping the Atlantic. Fortunately Mandy called us right back and said that they were going with us. Tyler notified the pilot, then called his office so they could make hotel and other arrangements for us all. By the time we had cleared the eastern state line of Colorado everything was arranged. Chris' visa had been at the airport when we arrived and was good for a month. I was glad my parents had trained me to never travel without my important papers. I had a small packet that I kept in my luggage with copies of everything I could possibly need in the way of identification, including my passport and a certified copy of my birth certificate. When Dad and his lawyers were working on Chris' custody, we had copies made of his papers too. Unfortunately we'd never gotten around to getting his passport. I made a mental note not to make that mistake again, when we got back.
The plane was well equipped with food so after gaining our cruising altitude lunch was served by the cute steward. It was as good as any fine restaurant, though we kept it light.
After a 4 ½ hour flight we landed in Boston where Amanda and Rich rejoined us. Mandy complained that she'd hardly had time to unpack and do a little laundry before it was time to repack again. We didn't even have time for that, but she couldn't have had much wash, because Sterling had emptied our hampers daily and we never had more than one outfit dirty before it was delivered back clean, always within a day. Rick just looked up at the ceiling as she complained, and both Chris and I understood^Å. Women!
It was night as we crossed the ocean, so after eating again and talking for a while we decided to get some sleep. Tyler insisted that Rick and Mandy take the bedroom and that Chris and I take the sofa. He said he'd bunk in the crew's quarters where there was a `Pullman' type sleeper, the type where the couch converts into single upper and double lower beds.
With a wink Tyler told us about the "mile high club", and promised that we'd not be disturbed by the crew or by him. Both Chris and Rick blushed a little, but Mandy and I just grinned.
It was noon when we reached London. We'd not gotten a full night's sleep but didn't complain because we knew that Tyler had a good bit of traveling yet to go. We were met by someone from the London office of Aztec-Turner. He boarded the plane while the crew was fueling up. He told us his name was Albert Dillingham and said he was very pleased to meet us, especially Tyler who he only knew by reputation. Tyler gave him instructions as to our care, feeding and security, as well as our trip to Scotland Yard and to Scotland to play golf. When Tyler was sure that we were properly provided for, he apologized but said that he needed to go because he wanted to be in Tel Aviv by the following evening. He promised to call us on the satellite phones he'd provided for us as soon as he had any news. With that said, we were ushered off the plane, gathered our luggage to go through customs, then off for our hotel.
It was the first time I'd ridden in a Bentley. It was one of the new sedans with a 540 horsepower engine and had a top speed that was well over 160 MPH. Albert said that it wasn't his, but their Managing Director's who had been the former owner of Worldwide Security before Tyler had bought it. After checking in to our more than luxurious accommodations, Albert suggested that we make a short visit to their London office to meet their Managing Director, Sir Reginald Humphries. We agreed and asked if we should dress in suits. He assured us that it wouldn't be necessary, so after getting our things settled we squeezed back into the sedan, which truly was designed for four not five, and drove on the wrong side of the road again to their offices.
The offices were impressive. It seemed to us that London either had only very new, almost bizarre buildings or very old ones. The offices of Aztec-Turner Security in London certainly fit in the first category. Chrome and glass were everywhere with lush carpet floors bordered in marble. Albert had called ahead so when we arrived we were taken directly into the Managing Director's office. He arose from his desk as we entered.
We were introduced to the Director who could not have quite reached 40 years of age.
"Please be seated," he said, indicating a comfortable looking, but very modern seating area.
After taking our seats, he began. "It's so good to meet our American clients. I came in on Saturday especially to meet you. Your parents' disappearance has had us all in a tizzy here. It was quite a star in our crown to be involved with such a notable case. The fact that you're friends with Tyler and Ron Turner had me curious too."
"I'm afraid that our friendship with the Turners has been an after-the-fact thing. They are more than wonderful. Tyler has been very complimentary of your capabilities here in London though," Amanda said. "We're so pleased that some real progress has been made."
"Thank you," Sir Reginald said with a smile. "We hope you'll enjoy your stay here, even though the circumstances are unfortunate, at best. Albert will be taking you to Scotland Yard Monday. I'm afraid they haven't been too much help even though they're usually way ahead of the game. The situation with the mistaken identities was unforgivable though. I hope you'll accept my apology on their behalf."
"There's nothing to forgive," I said. "It appears that Al Qaeda carefully planned the deception. They must have known that it was only a temporary guise."
"Quite so," Sir Reginald agreed. "You must be the one who discovered the ruse."
"I guess I can take credit for that," I admitted. "It was your operatives that quickly confirmed it though. We'll look forward to the trip to Scotland Yard day after tomorrow. It's really a cover, you know. Tyler refused to let us go to the Middle East with him. This was as close as he'd let us come."
"A wise decision, I'd say," Sir Reginald said. "What are you plans while you're here?"
"I'm sure we'll see some of London," I said, "but Chris and I also want to go to Scotland to play golf."
"Yes," Chris added. "We have a tee time on Tuesday at Royal Troon, but were unable to get one at the Royal and Ancient home of golf."
"You must let me help you with that," Reginald responded. "I have connections."
"I'm sure that Ron did his best, so we won't be upset if you're unsuccessful," I replied as I knew that the Turners had substantial resources.
"I don't plan on being unsuccessful," Sir Reginald said with a smile. "I'm sure even St. Andrews wouldn't turn down a guest of the Royal Family."
"I'm impressed and grateful for your help, Sir Reginald."
"Quite so," he replied. "Now it's time for tea. I think you Yanks call it "high tea", but to the English it's just tea".
Pressing a button on a side table, the door to the office soon opened and a man dressed like a butler entered, pushing a small cart. On the cart was a sterling silver tray with tea pots, Wedgwood cups and saucers, silver utensils and numerous trays of things to eat.
Once the items were placed on the coffee table in front of us, Sir Reginald poured the tea, then offered the items of scones and other delicacies, asking us to serve ourselves with what we wished.
"This hardly looks like just tea," Chris remarked.
"Well yes," Sir Reginald admitted. "We English tend to make it a bit of a thing. Please try the delicacies. Our English custom is to dine in the evening rather late. Speaking of that, I'd like to invite you to my manor for dinner tonight if you're free. I'd very much like you to meet my partner and our son."
"It would be our pleasure," Amanda said accepting at once.
We were picked up at our hotel at 6:30 by a chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce. Unlike the Bentley it was not new, but a vintage pre World War II model. It was as beautiful as the Bentley, but in a classic way rather than neo-classic as the Bentley had been. The woodwork inside was all burled walnut and was flawless as was the upholstery, the gleaming paint and the real chrome trim. It was simply elegant, though the engine and manual transmission were definitely dated. The ride was like floating on a cloud, but diametrically opposed to anything in the sports car class.
The ride to the country was pleasant and the scenery was green and beautiful. The crowded density of the bustling city gave way to the serenity of the English Countryside. Large manor houses now dotted the landscape. It was here that the London upper crust relaxed as country gentlemen. At the entry of one such imposing edifice, the Rolls turned, slowly moving up the long drive with stated elegance before turning and stopping in front of the imposing mansion. The chauffeur quickly climbed out of the seat and moved around the black limousine to open the passenger door. Climbing out, we were confronted with a beautiful classical mansion on whose top steps stood our hosts. As ultra-modern as the office was, this mansion was ultra-classic. You could tell that it was only a few years old, but much of it had been hand-crafted befitting far older but no less stately English country homes. It was amazing that such craftsmanship still existed.
Sir Reginald descended the stairs accompanied by two younger men. One appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties while the other was decidedly younger, around the age of Chris and me. As they approached, the older of the two could be seen as quite handsome, and the younger^Åwas fucking gorgeous! My tongue just about fell out of my mouth. I was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of Sir Reginald's son.
"Gentlemen, and lady," Sir Reginald began as they reached us. "I'd like to introduce you to my life partner Geoffrey Smyth, and my son, Kayden Humphries. Geoff, Kayden, please welcome our guests, Amanda and Jeffery Parker and their companions, Richard Forbes and Christopher Taylor, all from America.
We exchanged greetings and handshakes, except that Amanda got a couple of kisses on the cheeks by Geoff and Kayden. Damn, how did she get so lucky? When Kayden offered me his hand to shake, I was almost afraid to take it. He was like beautiful frosting, almost too exquisite to spoil by touching. I overcame my reluctance however as reason overcame emotion. Tearing my eyes from him as he extended his hand to Chris, I could see that my boyfriend was similarly overcome.
"Please come inside," Sir Reginald invited with a pleasant smile. "It's the cocktail hour and I'm sure you could use some refreshment."
DR. JEFF RICHARDS' POV
The surgery on Bin Laden's stomach had come off without a hitch. Even though the equipment and room appeared to have come out of the sixties at best, it was still antiseptically clean, and though the instruments had to be autoclaved instead of coming prepackaged for one-time use it was more than acceptable. The anesthesiologist was capable and fortunately spoke fluent English. Besides the Surgical Tech and the RN, I was provided with an assisting surgeon, who spoke halting English, and the translator that Bin Laden had supplied. The only distracting feature in the room was a rather ugly looking olive skinned man, wearing a surgical mask and gown, standing in the corner, toting a rather impressive AK47. I wondered if the gun was sterile, but put the thought behind me because if he had to use it, it wouldn't matter.
The tests had come back pretty much as I expected or perhaps even a bit better. The biopsy of the stomach had revealed precancerous cells, but not of a density that would indicate possible spreading of the disease. Nonetheless, it was my opinion that the invading cells and the near surrounding tissue should be removed as soon as possible.
The earlier biopsy of the liver had shown that the Hepatitis C was at a stage two condition, where small individual clumps of scar tissue had formed, but had not joined with other clumps. With proper medication those clumps could be reduced if not eliminated. Even then the disease would remain, but with continuing treatment, Bin Laden would most likely live a long life with a 95% functioning liver. The problem was that the drugs needed for treatment were not available in Syria.
After explaining my diagnosis and the necessities of treatment, Bin Laden, through a translator again, informed me that the drugs for the treatment of the Hep C, would be obtained within a few days and he suggested that we proceed with the stomach surgery while waiting. I was most in favor of that. I could envision sufficient recovery from surgery in probably four or five day, which might be sufficient time for the medication for the hepatitis to arrive. I believed then that within two to four weeks of treatment with the medication, we would know whether the treatment for the hepatitis was working. It would not be difficult by then to have trained another physician to continue the treatment, allowing Bin Laden to be treated without my presence. With luck and Bin Laden's promise, Mel and I could be gone in four or five weeks. I just prayed that it wouldn't mean that we were permanently gone.
The late afternoon before surgery our orderly returned to again clean our room. The only sign that he recognized we'd received his message was a quick look into my eyes, and a half-smile on his face. I nodded, letting him know that we'd received his note. Before he left he again slipped his hand beneath the pillow before gathering his things and leaving the room. Again I lay down pretending to rest. Slipping my hand under the pillow, I found a note with a tiny plastic envelope attached. Concealing the note again in my hand I made my way to the bathroom and assumed my `reading' position. The note this time was considerably longer.
"Dr. Richards," the note read, "If you have the opportunity for surgery, please leave the small sterile chip within Osama's body if possible. It is a super tiny transmitter which, three hours after insertion will begin broadcasting, allowing us to locate him. Within the next four days we expect to stage a rescue attempt of you and your wife. There are two blue chips in addition to the clear one meant for Bin Laden. Give one to your wife and keep another on your person (such as in your ear, or mouth) so that we can locate you if you are not where we expect you to be. If you cannot insert the chip in Bin Laden, keep it with you so that we can recover it. It will not turn on if not exposed to body heat. Shalom."
"I'll be damned!" I muttered.