Michael Palmer: The fifth vial

The minister, al-Thani, was standing just outside the doorway, only a few feet from Berenger's blood-soaked body. His eyes were narrowed and grim, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Clearly, he knew that the fate of his prince had been sealed.

Natalie, following al-Rabia's orders to the best of her ability, was waiting for him to stop the resuscitation, but the man desperately kept at it. Suddenly, one of the helicopter pilots appeared by al-Thani, trying at first to speak in Portuguese, than resorting to badly broken English.

"Lord. Two cars on road. Stopped. People on face on ground. Men, women with guns around them."

Ben!

The impassive minister actually sighed. Then he rattled off an order in Arabic to the physician, turned, and left.

Moments later the resuscitation on the prince was over.

Al-Rabia, his eyes glistening, looked dismally over at Natalie and shook his head.

"Allah will care for him," he said, "but he was such a good man, and would have made a wonderful ruler for our people."

"I'm very sorry," she replied. "For what it's worth, I think you did an excellent job. He had a heart infection that could not be treated."

"Maybe someday there will be such a treatment."

"Maybe someday," she echoed.

"Natalie, that is your name?"

"Natalie Reyes, yes."

"Well, Natalie Reyes, it means nothing now, but I want you to know that we were told the donor of the heart to our prince was brain-dead. Until we arrived here, that is what we believed. With Dr. Berenger in charge, matters simply got out of hand."

"I appreciate your telling me. Dr. Berenger and his organization were corrupted by their own egos and greed. They could not stand to be told by people they considered beneath them how to use their incredible skills."

"I understand. If the minister will allow me to leave the prince like this, perhaps with the anesthesiologist watching over him, I wish to come in and help you suture that poor woman's chest."

"I would like that, Dr. al-Rabia," Natalie said. "I would like that very much."

The two, Arab physician and American medical student, returned to the OR, where Sandy Macfarlane lay peacefully beneath the surgical drapes, being breathed for by a ventilator, and kept asleep by carefully metered anesthetic gas. The incision down her chest to the surface of her sternum was oozing blood, but certainly not enough to be a threat. Natalie electrically cauterized the largest of the bleeding vessels, then, with al-Rabia holding the skin edges together, she settled in and meticulously sewed the incision back together.

As she worked, Natalie flashed back to the Metropolitan Hospital emergency room just hours before Berenger would arbitrarily remove her as a Guardian for being suspended from medical school. Standing nearby was the nurse, Beverly Richardson, and on the table before her was the boy, Darren Jones, the last person she had sutured…until now.

Beneath her mask, Natalie smiled.

With the anesthesiologist left behind to bring Sandy Macfarlane V w back to consciousness, Natalie headed excitedly to the dining room. The minister, al-Thani, was there, but all of the soldiers, save one, were gone.

"May I go out?" she anxiously asked al-Rabia. "There is someone out there — a friend. I need to make sure he doesn't get hurt."

"Is he the one who held up the arrival of the surgeon and all the others"

"I believe so."

Al-Rabia shook his head in utter frustration and wordlessly checked with the minister, who clearly understood Natalie's request.

"Yes, yes, go ahead," he said. "They will not be hurt."

Before Natalie could leave, Ben and Father Francisco, hands in the air, entered the dining room, followed by three Arab soldiers and the man Natalie felt certain was Berenger's second surgeon.

Al-Thani barked out a brief order, and the soldiers lowered their weapons, then backed away.

"Where's Berenger?" the surgeon asked.

Al-Rabia pointed with his thumb.

"In the hallway," he said, not bothering to explain any further.

Natalie raced across and threw her arms around Ben, knocking him backward a step.

"Nice place you run here," he said, gesturing about the room. His gaze stopped at Luis's bullet-riddled corpse. "Oh, no."

"He was a warrior right to the end," Natalie said. "He always seemed ready to die. Before he was killed he did what was needed to bring this place down."

"Maybe his sister will be able to rest in peace."

"I couldn't believe it when the helicopter pilot said that someone had stopped the nurses and surgeon and had them lying on the ground. I just knew it was you. After Berenger told me that Father Francisco was on their payroll, I felt sick at having sent you to him for help. What happened?"

"Believe it or not," Francisco answered, "until Mr. Callahan, here, convinced me otherwise, I had no idea the donors who had come through the hospital had all been kidnapped. He told me the story of this professor from Chicago, and a farm boy from Idaho. He made the analogy between forcing the poor and downtrodden into prostitution and slavery, and forcing them to sell their body parts or, in this case, to give them away."

"Nat, Father Francisco, here, really came through when it counted. It took him just a few minutes to round up ten of the toughest men — and women — I have ever seen. We were fortunate to arrive at the hospital road just as the cars did. That man over there is a surgeon. He started bossing us around and telling us how important it was for them to get to the hospital. Next thing they knew, they were on the ground. Then, these soldiers came out of the trees, and all of a sudden we were on the ground, too."

Natalie turned to al-Rabia.

"What's going to happen to us and to these people?" she asked.

The physician received a silent answer from his minister before he responded.

"Contrary to what you might believe, senseless violence is not our way," he said. "Minister al-Thani is sad and angry, but not at you. The prince's body will be placed on one of the helicopters and flown back to the airport. After we return to our country, he will be buried as the hero he was."

They all waited somberly as the soldiers wheeled the prince out across the patio, followed by al-Rabia and the minister.

Finally, Natalie turned to Father Francisco.

"Once the flight crew is in working order, we'll hitch a ride with them back to Rio and get Sandy into a hospital. Then I'll get in touch with the American Embassy and set up a meeting with them and this Military Police detective I met in Botafogo. He didn't treat me with any great interest, but I sensed he took pride in his work and his position. Plus Rodrigo Vargas disliked him, and that's recommendation enough for me. His name is Perreira."

"I will check with some friends of mine to see if he is someone you can trust."

"Thank you, Father Francisco. Today you behaved like a true man of God."

The priest shook her hand, then embraced her and thanked her for helping to free their town.

"You know," he said, "this man has some way with words. He wore me away — absolutely wore me down like waves pounding at the shore. Hey, you know what I think, Mr. Callahan? I think maybe you should consider becoming a lawyer, or maybe even a priest."

"No chance, Father," Ben said, putting his arm around Natalie's shoulders to brace himself. "I'm going to be too busy writing my first detective novel."

"I can see why you love autumn in New England so much," Ben said. "I'm really happy to be here again."