As she stared at the shifting images, a hole opened in her stomach, and her heart picked up speed. “Oh my God, Doctor, what happened?”
“A bomb went off in a popular restaurant in the center of Montebello’s capital city of San Sebastian della Rosa. It appears a number of people having breakfast were buried. No one knows for sure how many.”
Kate watched in horror as rescue workers in hard hats and surgical masks dug frantically through what appeared to be a mountain of rubble.
“Montebello? Isn’t that one of those islands in the Mediterranean near Saudi Arabia?”
“Yes, it’s next to Tamir, where the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries met a few years back.”
“Wasn’t Montebello pro-West during Desert Storm?”
“Indeed. As a matter of fact, I have some investments there, and King Marcus Sebastiani is an acquaintance of mine. He called to ask my help in locating surgeons to help treat the victims the rescue workers think will be pouring in soon—including several children, I’m told. I was hoping you’d be available to help.”
Children? She thought of that tiny sneaker and her heart sank at the damage falling debris could do to delicate bones. Oh God. Of course she wanted to help, provided she could juggle her responsibilities as the children’s clinic chief of staff.
Quickly she ran through a mental checklist of the surgeries she had scheduled for the next two weeks. None were critical, nor were they so complicated she would hesitate to turn them over to her associates. Of lesser importance were a staff meeting next week and a routine appointment with the clinic’s accountant. Both were easily postponed.
“I’m available,” she declared finally. “I’ll have to make arrangements with my associates to cover for me for the next two weeks, but the clinic staff is terrific at improvising.” She took a fast breath. “Sarah and I just got back around midnight last night from a week in Baja, and I haven’t unpacked more than my toothbrush. Provided I can get reservations, I can leave sometime today.”
“Don’t worry about reservations. I took a chance you’d agree and made your travel arrangements for you. A car will pick you up at nine-thirty, and one of the king’s planes is already on its way to San Francisco Airport. It will be landing at SFO at ten-thirty, and after a quick refueling, will return to San Sebastian immediately. Weather permitting, you’ll be in Montebello before the sun sets.”
“You must have been fairly sure I’d say yes,” she muttered, more than a little awestruck.
Relief was audible in his voice. “Let’s say I was hopeful. You’ll be met and briefed when you land.” There was a momentary pause before he added softly, “Bless you, Katie Remson. I know a lot of desperate people in Montebello will be very happy to find out you’re on your way.”
As Gordon hung up, his conscience reared its ugly head. A man who believed in fair play would have told her that Elliot was even now in another of the king’s personal planes.
Believing in his children’s right to privacy, Gordon had never let on to either Kate or Elliot that ten years ago he’d seen her leaving the pool house at dawn, her face streaked with tears. The same pool house from which Elliot had emerged a few minutes later, his face white and his expression grim. For days afterward, Elliot had lashed out at everyone like a badly wounded animal. Helena was sure he’d somehow hurt Katie very badly.
Gordon had a gut feeling Helena was bang on this time. Until the morning in question, Kate had routinely joined them for family celebrations. Indeed, both he and Helena loved the girl like a second daughter. After that morning, however, on those rare occasions when Elliott came home for a visit, Kate invariably had “other plans.”
Sorry, Katie, he told her silently as he gave a thumbs-up to the weary men watching him with bloodshot eyes. Personal feelings don’t mean squat when children’s lives are at stake. Still, Gordon couldn’t help saying a quick prayer that neither of these decent, caring people would end up getting hurt again….
Chapter 4
King Augustus Hospital, Montebello’s only full-service medical center, was located near a pretty man-made lake in the newer section of the sun-washed capital city. Constructed of pink granite quarried on the western end of the island, the imposing structure was shaped like a three-story X. Each of the four “legs” angled out from a central core that, in every sense, acted as the heart of the satisfyingly modern complex.
In the twenty-four hours since walking through the front doors for the first time, Kate had become quite familiar with the layout of the hospital.
After the initial rush of victims, the injured arrived singly now or in groups of two or three, as the rescuers removed the debris piece by piece in order to prevent a cataclysmic shifting. Although the top floor of the building had pancaked down, they believed there were pockets in the rubble where people could survive for more than a few hours, possibly even days.
This afternoon’s victims had included two children—a ten-year-old girl with internal injuries, and her four-year-old brother, who had a collapsed lung and multiple fractures. While other teams had tended to their parents, Kate finished one procedure, then rescrubbed and regowned to assist with the other. Both children were now in recovery. Until she felt confident they were in no immediate danger, she intended to stay close.
The two local teams she’d worked with so far had been enormously efficient and skilled—as well as welcoming and supportive. Many of them hadn’t left the hospital since the first batch of victims had been brought in the previous day. So far Kate hadn’t detected an erosion in performance or efficiency, but tempers were beginning to fray as stress and fatigue gradually nibbled away their aplomb.
It was going on 9:00 p.m. Initial uncertainty and adrenaline had kept jet lag at bay, but now her body clock seemed set to a time halfway between San Francisco and San Sebastian. On those few occasions when she’d been able to carve out time to nap, her body remained obstinately wide-awake. At other times, when she desperately needed to be alert, she found herself fighting drowsiness.
This morning she had been wide-awake at 4:00 a.m. Arturo hadn’t complained when she’d gotten him out of bed to drive her to the med center, but during the twenty-minute journey he’d shot her several long-suffering looks.
A young female aide wheeling an elderly woman toward the elevator smiled shyly as Kate approached. “Are you on your way home at last, Doctor?” she asked with a charming diffidence Kate had never noticed in the States.
“Soon,” she replied, returning the smile. Provided she could find the energy to summon Arturo from wherever it was he went while she worked, then make it to the car.
When she’d been a resident, she’d become accustomed to thirty-hour shifts. The last four years of semiregular hours had spoiled her, she decided, as she pushed open the door to the lounge.
Expecting to find the stress-relieving, often ribald bantering and chatter that seemed to be a universal characteristic of medical types everywhere, she was surprised to find the lounge all but empty.
Its only occupant was a trim, freckled-faced woman in pale blue scrubs, who glanced up from fixing herself a cup of tea when Kate entered. Petra McGee had sparkling sky-blue eyes, short crinkly curls the color of sun-splashed copper and, despite her tiny five-feet-nothing frame, energy enough for two people.
According to the bios they’d exchanged during a shared—and hasty—lunch earlier, the elfin registered nurse had joined Medics Without Limits three years ago after a painful divorce. She’d been working with Elliot for half that time. Kate had been tortured by curiosity about the depth of their