After some polite thank-yous, Jasper was more or less kicked out of Marva’s room so the “real” doctors could take over. He was fine with that. Mission accomplished. And the look on Fiona’s face right before he left was all the recognition he’d needed.

But now there was another job to do, to trace back whatever attack had occurred. And he was almost certain that it was an attack. A sophisticated, almost deadly attack. They’d made the upgrades to the hospital’s security system from the meeting, but they’d clearly already been circumvented. He had gigabytes of data to corroborate this. Luckily, he wouldn’t be the one sifting through it all. He would much rather help the cause by saving lives in the real world, like what he’d just done for Marva. And what he’d be expected to do for Prince Saif.

“Hello, Mr. Rick.”

Jasper had taken one step into his room when he saw the familiar face of his Saudi contact. “Mr. Awadi,” he said, trying not to sound as unsettled as he felt. “Good to see you.”

“Mr. Rick,” he said again, head tilted to the side. “What is going on?”

“I think it’s just a drill,” said Jasper.

“You think?”

“I think they’re . . . testing the systems.”

Jasper looked around the room, noting something different about the . . . curtains. There were curtains drawn around the other empty bed.

“Okay,” said Awadi, pulling his attention back. “So, Rick, I have to say, this makes me very nervous.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.” Jasper started walking over to his laptop. “We went over all the security measures last night, and plugged any holes we found, and we are quite ready for the prince.”

“The prince will be here very shortly.”

“Perfect,” said Jasper, closing his laptop.

“You don’t sound very confident.”

“I am . . . very confident.”

“Tell me, why is everyone else so terrified?”

“I think you’re just observing a completely rational response to the drill.”

“The drill . . .”

“Have you talked with Jackson yet?”

“I don’t think Jackson is here.”

“Well, Mr. Awadi, I’m not even the person you should be speaking with.”

“But you’re the only one here. So I’m talking with you. And I’d like to start by asking what was just on your computer there?”

Did he shut it too fast? It probably made him look guilty. Or maybe it was his face . . .

“We’ll need a free flow of information,” said Awadi.

“It was just some work stuff,” said Jasper, trying to sound casual. “Work, email, news sites, you know . . .”

“Nothing relating to cybersecurity? No analysis of this current attack?”

“For the record, I’m still not convinced it was an attack.”

“I don’t care about the record,” said Awadi. “I care about what’s on your computer. We have explicit permission from DARC Ops to share information. Jackson said this.”

“Then I’m sure you already know what’s on there.”

Mr. Awadi frowned, his wrinkled face sprouting ever more cracked and scraggly lines. “It’s protected very well.”

There were too many cooks in the kitchen. On top of the hospital’s own inept cybersecurity, Jasper had to worry about the Saudis’ own department.

“I thought you didn’t understand computer stuff,” said Jasper.

“We have experts.”

“But they’re not as good as DARC Ops. So what’s the point?”

“The point is to keep you honest.”

“I’ll have to talk with Jackson about this.”

“I have a guy,” said Awadi.

Jasper wondered if it was the same guy he had diagnosed back in the hotel bathroom, Awadi’s expert crawled up into the fetal position next to a toilet.

“Let me just run it by Jackson,” said Jasper.

Mr. Awadi sat quietly for a moment, with both feet flat on the floor, knees held together. Hands folded over his lap. He sat perfectly still, like a Buddhist Zen master.

Thankfully, there was a knock at the door to break the silence. It was Fiona, peeking her head inside the doorway, and then wincing slightly when she noticed Mr. Awadi.

“Oh, sorry,” she said.

“No,” said Jasper. “Come in.”

She smiled apologetically. “I just wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. And I mean that.” He laughed. “Don’t you dare mention it.”

She smiled. “Okay. I won’t.” She glanced at Mr. Awadi, and then back to Jasper, her smile faltering. “Well, uh, I guess I’d better . . .” She stopped midsentence, spinning around to look behind her. Jasper couldn’t see the other party, but there was a brief exchange of words. And then she disappeared from view and was replaced by Jackson’s large frame.

“Hey, Buddy,” Jackson said, grinning broadly. “You’re staying pretty busy here, huh?”

Before Jasper could greet him, Mr. Awadi has risen to his feet. “Jackson, we have a problem.”

“A problem?

“Yes,” said Awadi. “Is there some kind of problem going on here?”

Jackson gave Jasper a quick look, and then returned to Mr. Awadi with, “We’re in the process of upgrading our defenses for the prince. Other than that, I don’t think there’s a problem whatsoever.”

“We need to see your information,” said Awadi. “Especially from this morning.”

Jackson laughed. “So let me get this straight . . . We were called in to help, because you were being targeted by a cyber attack. And your defenses are most likely compromised. And now you want us to hand over everything to you?”

Mr. Awadi didn’t say anything.

“Do you not believe we’re trying to help you, Awadi?”

“I believe.”

“You should. You should believe.” Jackson pointed to Jasper. “Look at this man. I was with him. We almost died.”

“I understand that.”

“Doesn’t that earn us any kind of trust?”

“Jackson, let me tell you something about Prince Saif. Okay? I have been in charge of his security for almost twenty years. I’ve traveled around the world with him. I’ve tested his food. I’ve met his mother.”

Jasper couldn’t be sure, but it almost seemed like Jackson had laughed at that last point.

Mr. Awadi didn’t look as amused. “I’ve done everything for Prince Saif,” he said. “I’ve taken a bullet for him. And you know what?” Awadi paused for dramatic effect.

“What?” Jackson finally asked.

“He still doesn’t trust me.”

“Okay . . .”

“So what makes you think he’d trust you?”

“Fine,” said Jackson, sitting on the empty bed. “He doesn’t trust me. But I still can’t turn over my data.”

“Is that so?”

Jackson nodded. “’Fraid so.”

Mr. Awadi pressed his lips together. No longer the Buddhist Zen master, but a fidgeting, worried servant. Jasper didn’t know much about the prince, other than the fact he expected absolute submission—and results—from his men.

“You can, of course, try to hack us for the information,” Jackson said.

Mr. Awadi was chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe have your cybersecurity guy try that,” interjected Jasper. He couldn’t resist.

“Yeah,” said Jackson, looking on his phone. “The guy we found in the bathroom. Have him try it.”

Mr. Awadi’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think he’s not already trying it?”

“So is Prince Saif here already?” said Jackson. “Where is he? We have a lot of work to do.”

“The prince is on his way.”

“And he’s ready for surgery today?”

“Quite ready,” said Awadi. “My question to you is, is the hospital ready?”

“Well, what do you think, Rick? Are we ready?”

Jasper knew they were most certainly not ready. But he said yes anyway, before adding, “Ninety percent ready.”

“Ninety percent is not good enough,” said Awadi.

“It’ll be one hundred in time for his surgery,” said Jasper.

“Can I ask what your purpose is here?” Jackson said to Awadi. “Is it just to try to hassle us for our information?”

“No,” said Awadi.

“Because we’re wasting time,” Jackson said. “And where the hell is he?”

Awadi smiled, seeming happy to talk about his master. “The prince? He is everywhere.”

“If we don’t switch out that pacemaker,” Jasper said. “Then yes, he will be everywhere. All around us. All the hacking in the world won’t matter a damn if he dies before surgery.”

“Prince Saif has a very busy schedule. And many responsibilities.”

“Well,” said Jackson. “He better get his ass in here.”

“Please don’t speak of his . . . his ass.”

“You might think he’s special,” said Jackson. “That he’s a God.”

Mr. Awadi shrugged, and then nodded.

“But he’s just a human,” said Jasper. “A human being with a faulty heart.”

“That’s right,” said Jackson. “If he was as smart as you said, he’d already be here.”

“He is here,” said Awadi.

Jasper noticed Jackson freeze up a little bit, his eyebrows sticking high on his forehead. It was a rare occurrence.

“He’s already here, gentlemen.”

“Where?” Jackson croaked, before clearing his throat.

Awadi stood and then walked over to the hanging curtain of the other bed.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” muttered Jackson.

The curtains were peeled back theatrically, like Mr. Awadi was revealing the end of some magic trick. The prince. He lay there atop the bedsheets, awake, wearing a typical green hospital gown. His head was uncovered, a slick of black hair combed tightly back. Aside from the way Awadi had presented him like some game show prize, and the giant ring on the man’s finger, the prince looked absolutely unremarkable.

“Gentlemen,” said Awadi, bowing his head. “I present you, Prince Saif.”

Jasper rose to his feet in perfect unison with Jackson. He bowed his head to the prince. Was that correct? A bow? He’d follow Jackson’s lead on that.

So, he bowed. What else?

Should he apologize?

The prince made a hand gesture to them, a light wave. Almost waving them away, as if to say, “Enough with the awkward, half-assed bowing.” Jasper took a second look. The prince was actually motioning to Awadi, who crept close to the bed, hunching to be near him. The prince was whispering something. Jackson was waiting.

After a moment, Awadi turned back to them, saying, “The prince would like to know which one of you it was, who has the big mouth.”

Jasper could only stare back, trying consciously not to let his mouth hang open.

“Gentlemen,” said Awadi, sighing like a school teacher before two problem students. “He heard everything you said.”

“Hello, Prince Saif,” said Jackson, his facial muscles twitching and fluttering into a half-cocked smile. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you. And on behalf of the DARC Ops—” He abruptly stopped talking when the prince began whispering something.

“It is you,” said Awadi, translating for his master.

Jackson jerked back. “Me?”

“With the big mouth,” said Awadi.

“Well, I’m sorry he thinks that way. Can he speak any English at all or are we just gonna—”

“He says he’s concerned,” said Awadi. “About the chaos here.”

“There’s no chaos,” said Jasper.

Jackson was nodding. “Right. None at all.”

“So does the prince need help with anything?” asked Jasper. “Can I check his vitals?”

Awadi turned back and muttered something to the prince.

“How long has he been here?” asked Jasper, approaching the bed.

“Yes,” said Mr. Awadi. “Please.” He was motioning toward the prince, saying, “Please.”

“Please check his vitals?”

“Yes, please.”

Jasper grabbed a stethoscope hanging around the bed’s end. “Well, let’s start with that heart of his. And whatever it’s rigged up to.”

Prince Saif lay quietly as Jasper moved the stethoscope across his chest and abdomen. Starting with his heart, which pulsed weakly and irregularly, and then down toward his abdominal organs, his liver, pancreas, and bowels—where the prince, apparently ticklish, chuckled and flinched slightly.When Mr. Awadi returned to whisper something to him, the royal face reverted to its sour scowl.

Jasper asked him in Arabic to sit up. He did so with mild amusement, perhaps appreciating the home language, or at least Jasper’s fledgling attempt. He would try to speak Arabic with him whenever he could.

“You speak well,” Mr. Awadi said in Arabic.

Jasper nodded as he listened to the prince breathe deeply, in and out, his lungs sounding normal. And then his voice vibrated loudly though his body, through the stethoscope, complaining not only about his heart, but the faulty pacemaker. He used a figure of speech for it, pleading for Jasper to take out that damn “shoe” of a pacemaker.

Jasper promised, with utmost sincerity, that they would remove the shoe as soon as possible.

But there was no chart at the foot of his bed. No information. No way of knowing just how soon they could perform the surgery. For cybersecurity’s sake, for the health of the hospital’s defenses, it would be best to hold off on the surgery. But for the prince’s sake, his own health, it needed to be done as soon as possible.

Jasper tried making some small talk while he checked the man’s blood pressure. He welcomed him to the hospital as kindly as he could. He informed him that he’d be his roommate, which, incredibly, seemed to put the man at ease.

“I was hoping not to be stuck with Awadi,” the prince joked.

All this while Awadi and Jackson discussed—or rather, argued—about the timing of the surgery. And then another knock at the door caught Jasper’s attention.

He turned around and saw Dr. Wahl looking particularly unimpressed about something. Defeated. His face looked ashen gray. Jasper turned back to the prince, hoping not to be spotted.

“Hello?” The doctor said it in such a way and with such obnoxious volume that he interrupted everyone’s conversation. “Is there a Mr. Saif here? Which one of you is Mr. Saif?” It sounded like his lips barely moved when he spoke.

“Can I help you?” asked Mr. Awadi. When Jasper turned to check on him, he saw that Awadi was intentionally standing in the sight line between the doctor and the prince.

“Yes, I’d like to speak with Mr. Saif.”

“Prince Saif,” said Awadi.

“Dr. Wahl smiled. It was rather disconcerting. “Prince, then. Prince Saif. Are you him?”

Mr. Awadi stood his ground. “What can I help you with, sir?”

Dr. Wahl gave him a little smirk as he entered the room and attempted to walk past him. “Are you him?” he was talking to the prince, now. Jasper turned away again, hiding his face. From behind him, he could hear Jackson doing his best to impede the doctor.

“Excuse me, Doctor,” said Jackson. “Would you mind coming back later?”

Jasper had finished working on Saif, but preferred to stay at his side. He tried making small talk, as best as he could without garbling too much, about the prince’s heart condition, how many pacemakers he’d gone through. But it was clear the prince was more concerned with this strange American doctor trying to boss his way into the room.

The doctor that was beginning to be a problem.

Jasper had assumed the threat was from the outside. But something about this doctor had, from day one, piqued his attention. The prince didn’t seem to like him, either. He kept making faces whenever the doctor spoke. And when Dr. Wahl left, it was Awadi who made his intentions clear.

“That man is not to be allowed in the operating room,” said Awadi.

Jasper had finished with the prince and was back in his chair by his laptop. He barely had time to write a few cursory notes about the prince’s exam before Awadi’s voice shook him out of medical mode.

“That man . . .” Awadi trailed off.

“What’s the problem?” asked Jackson.

“He’s a butcher,” said Awadi. “He was our main concern coming here.”

“A butcher?”

“He’s no good, Jackson. We don’t want him anywhere near the prince. Can you arrange that?”

Jackson was nodding but it didn’t look very convincing. He was clearly deep in thought.

“Or do we have to bring in our people?” said Mr. Awadi. “We will use whatever force necessary to keep him away.”

“Let’s talk to Clarence about this,” Jackson finally said. “I think this is something he should deal with.”

There was a sound behind the men, a tight groaning noise coming from the prince. Jasper raced back to his bedside, grabbing his wrist and checking his pulse. The man’s face had turned red. And for a moment, he struggled to breathe.

Jasper kept his eyes on the prince, but spoke to Jackson. “We need to get moving on this.”

“I know, I know. We’re moving.”

The prince spoke very quietly. “It will pass, it will pass.”

Jasper didn’t need his stethoscope. He could feel the heart beating quickly and almost randomly under his hand. It felt like a frog stuck in a box. “How often does this happen?”

“Many times a day,” said the prince, wincing. “But it will pass. It always passes.”

“Soon you won’t have to worry about that.”

The prince nodded, winced again, and then relaxed.

“I’ll be right next to you, okay?” Jasper pointed to his bed. “That’s my bed. We’ll stick together.”

“Thank you, my friend.” He turned to Awadi and spoke in Arabic while pointing to Jasper. “This man here, we, can trust him.”

Awadi looked at Jasper. “He said he trusts you.”

The prince said something else in Arabic. This time it came too fast and quiet.

Awadi said to Jasper, “He wants to know if he can help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t every day that Jasper was offered “help” by a Saudi prince. He thought carefully.

“He likes you,” said Awadi. “He’s impressed by your Arabic.”

“Do you like to travel?” The prince asked Jasper. “Perhaps Saudi Arabia? I can find you good work.”

Jasper thanked him kindly, but declined. And then an idea popped into his head, and he asked, “What about the oilfields?”

The prince’s head tilted to the side. “You want to work in the oilfields?”

“Not me,” said Jasper. The mental pictures of Kyle and his family flooded his mind again. “My brother. He could work with the Americans.”

“I see.” The prince smiled. “I see . . .”