Noel Hynd - Countdown in Cairo

She remained silent. The doctor zipped the bag. Alex felt the zipper slide over her face and head. She opened her eyes just enough to see a crack of light from a six-inch gap where he had left the bag open.

A wave of claustrophobia was upon her, almost as bad as the time she had been trapped in old tunnels under Madrid. She fought the feeling. She suppressed the deep desire to push her way out of this bag. Yet she had disrobed, wrapped herself in sheets, and climbed in voluntarily. And if everything went right, this would be over in ten minutes.

And if it doesn’t go right? she asked herself.

Don’t go there! she answered.

She heard Dr. Badawi walk away, leave the room, and then return a few moments later with a second pair of footsteps. She heard them talking. The doctor was with a woman and they spoke Arabic. Alex guessed that the woman was a nurse, maybe one of the suspicious ones she had passed in the corridors. Alex felt deeply vulnerable. She was in darkness but kept still.

Then the gurney began to move. She knew that she was going on display before Rizzo and two other men in the next room. She tried to steady her minimal breathing. At the same time she felt that her heart was kicking so loudly that they could probably hear it in Cairo, even above the din of traffic.

Then her gurney was moving on the uneven floor.

She heard a steel door to the visiting room rattle and felt her gurney being pushed forward. The room tone changed.

She heard voices. First Rizzo. Then Colonel Amjad. Then the embassy guy whom she hardly knew.

She heard the door close, and she knew she was on center stage. The room fell silent, and the gurney stopped moving.

The doctor spoke in English as she heard the clinician step back and keep her distance.

“Which of you is-?” Dr. Badawi began.

“I’m Rizzo,” she heard Rizzo say, his voice slightly muffled and disembodied, listening as she was from within the bag. The interpreter from the embassy explained who everyone was. He spoke in Arabic and English, and Alex wished she could understand the Arabic.

“Who will do the identification?” Dr. Badawi asked.

“I will,” said Rizzo. “So let’s get it done.”

“As you wish.”

The doctor reached to the zipper. He pulled it gently open, lengthwise across the body. He stopped just past Alex’s chin. She held her breath. She kept her eyes closed as someone lifted the thin gauzy fabric away from her face. She felt a hand land on the gurney and assumed it was Rizzo’s.

“Oh, my dear Lord,” she heard him mutter low and in Italian. “Oh, no…”

“This is the woman you were working with?” Dr. Badawi asked. “The American woman who was missing?”

Several seconds of silence. She wondered if she could sneak a breath. She tried not to. Another moment passed. She heard Rizzo answer.

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

“You’re certain?” the doctor pressed.

Come on, she thought. Get it over. She couldn’t hold her breath forever.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “I’m certain.”

“You knew her personally?” the doctor asked. “Or professionally?”

“Both,” Rizzo said.

Please, please, please. Close the canvas. At least put the gauze back.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she heard Rizzo say. There was more silence. She knew everyone was staring at her. Then something happened.

There was commotion. Colonel Amjad must have done something because she heard Rizzo getting very angry, and she could feel the vibrations of some sort of scuffle.

“Have some bloody decency, would you!” she heard Rizzo shoot back. “You keep your hands off this woman’s body or I’ll rip your arms out of their sockets! Understand me?”

There was an ominous pause.

“You tell him that!” Rizzo snapped to someone, she assumed Ghalid, the interpreter. “And make bloody well sure he understands!”

Ghalid urgently spoke Arabic to the other man.

“I was only making sure,” Colonel Amjad said.

“Making sure? Making sure of what? We’re in the blasted morgue!” she heard Rizzo roar. “What more do you want? A severed head? A bullet hole you can put your fist in?”

Zip the bag. I can’t keep holding my breath. Zip me back in!

“All right,” Amjad finally said to Rizzo.

“Too bloody true, ‘all right,’ “ Rizzo said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Someone swiftly rezipped the bag. The hand pulled the zipper all the way shut. Alex was in near darkness and a second surge of claustrophobia hit her. But other hands reached to the bag and pulled the zipper back down six inches and left it there.

“There is some paperwork,” Dr. Badawi said in English to his visitors.

Rizzo spoke softly. “Of course,” he said. “Paperwork. Always. The world could come to an end but there would be paperwork even if no one were left to complete it.”

The doctor turned to his assistant. “I’ll take it from here,” he said in Arabic, dismissing the technician. Alex heard the technician walk away. She heard the steel door open and clack shut.

“You’ve done a good thing by coming out here,” Dr. Badawi said, presumably to Rizzo. “A quarter of the deceased out here are never identified. The medical authorities tell me they had to bury six hundred unknowns since January of this year, unidentified and unclaimed.”

“Typical,” Rizzo mumbled.

The doctor answered, “This had been a fairly routine day until you arrived.”

“I’m honored,” Rizzo grumbled.

Her heart started to settle slightly. The worst was most likely over. Now if she could just get out of this horrible sack of death. Rizzo seemed to be rustling some papers.

“The United States Embassy in Cairo has started procedures to retrieve her body,” Ghalid explained softly. “However, it might take several days. So-”

“We’re taking the body with us today,” Rizzo said. “I’m not leaving without it.”

“That would be quite impossible, sir,” the doctor said.

“Nothing’s impossible,” Rizzo said. “Make it happen. We owe it to this woman to get her physical remains back to her country of origin. I’m acting on behalf of the Italian government and the government of the United States. I’m not leaving without her,” he said again. “And Mr. Bassiri from the American Embassy has brought the proper paperwork.”

“True?” Dr. Badawi asked.

She felt a toe twitch. Hopefully, no one saw it. Her face started to itch from the powder. She knew she was starting to sweat, and corpses aren’t supposed to sweat. God forbid if she had to sneeze!

They must have been shuffling documents.

Come on! Hurry up! This is a nightmare in here!

“All right,” she heard the doctor say softly. “This would seem to be in order. We won’t miss one more set of remains. Less storage, less digging-no disrespect intended.” A pause. “Will you call for the proper van to transport her?” he asked.

“Immediately,” Rizzo said. “I wish to see the body back to Cairo personally. Then I wish to come back here and visit the place where she was killed.”

She heard the doctor collect the documents. “Then we are finished here,” the doctor said. “Under the circumstances, I’ll see that the body is ready to move today.”

“Grazie mille,” Rizzo said. “Choukran. ”

“Afowan,” the doctor answered.

And thank you from me too! she thought.

“I’ll stay with the body,” Rizzo continued. “We owe it to her that she is returned to America. I want to make sure the body gets there.”

“You do not have any reason to think-,” the doctor said.

“I have every reason to think something could happen,” Rizzo retorted sharply. “I said I’d stay with the body! What language do I have to say that in so that you’ll understand?”