He had spent the whole afternoon in meetings with the Saudis and DARC personnel, his room with the prince having turned into a comically cramped central meeting place. There were continuing concerns and paranoia from the Saudis, and today’s most recent development would only amplify that. Jasper had stolen away from the room just long enough to catch wind of a stabbing, and, instead of finishing his work on the hospital systems, he was now forced to return to the central meeting place for damage control.

“The situation is ridiculous,” said Mr. Awadi as he held an infant’s sippy cup to the prince’s mouth. “His operation is hours away.” He continued holding the cup as Prince Saif drank from it with feeble little sucks, his cheeks barely indenting with whatever little pressure he could muster.

“We believe it was an isolated incident,” Jackson said. He was pacing the length of the room.

“Isolated?” Awadi, still holding the cup, was frothing at the corners of his mouth. “What about everything else? We’ve been discussing these attacks here all morning, and then—”

“It changes nothing,” Jackson interrupted. “It was a physical assault. A murder. And so a police matter.”

“This is very quickly becoming an international matter,” said Awadi. “We never imagined such things could happen in a hospital. Particularly a United States hospital. In Syria or Iraq, maybe. But here in the US?”

“It’s a tragedy,” said Jackson. “And completely unprecedented at this hospital. But it will not affect operations, nor how we handle security.”

“No changes to security? After what just happened?”

“We’re here to protect the prince, and only the prince.”

Awadi stepped away from the prince, placing the cup on a table and opening up space for Jasper to move in at the bedside. He greeted him softly, in Arabic, and then described the simple procedure of attaching sensor cups to his chest. “Don’t worry,” said Jasper. “The machine is very safe.”

The device, a computer monitor on wheels, was rolled squeakily toward the bed. Jasper drew out several long cords from it and slid them under the man’s hospital gown.

“It’s just a monitor,” said Jackson, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Jasper had his back turned, but assumed the warning was a reaction to some nasty look from Awadi.

“His heartbeat has become more erratic,” said Jasper, as he attached the leads to the man’s torso. One over the heart, and four at the corners, the likely cold-feeling stickers making the prince twist his leathery face with each application. “He’ll have to be hooked up to this until surgery. There’s no avoiding it anymore.”

Awadi appeared from the corner of Jasper’s eye, approaching the prince’s bed. “You think we’re still doing surgery today?”

“If he wants to live, yes,” said Jasper. “His condition has significantly worsened just over the several hours he’s been here. Even if you had another choice, you wouldn’t have time for it.”

Mr. Awadi began whispering into the prince’s ear. Meanwhile, Jasper moved his gaze to the doorway after hearing someone’s tentative knock. Standing at the door was a man in a brown, elbow-patched sports coat. He looked like some college professor, despite his height and physique. That screamed military. Scraggly dark hair and a hipster goatee disagreed with that assumption. He was looking at Jackson, whose jaw appeared to clench even tighter. When Jasper finally made eye contact with him, Jackson nodded toward the hallway.

They met there a minute later. Jasper, Jackson, and the professor.

“This is Sam,” said Jackson. “He’s our resident recognizer.”

“Our what?” said Jasper.

“A super recognizer.” Jackson motioned to Sam to explain it himself.

“I’m a face-reader, recognizer, and general body-language expert,” said Sam, sounding as if he’d rehearsed the explanation. “I consult from campus usually, but today required a more local, immediate presence.”

So an actual professor. At least Jasper wasn’t completely losing his touch.

“He’s the human equivalent to facial recognition systems,” said Jackson. “Only faster.”

Sam smiled sedately.

“We’ll need him for access control, guarding the room and watching the cameras. But right now I need him to have a chat with our Saudi friends. He can tell if they’re lying.”

“Lying about what?” asked Jasper.

“The stabbing today,” said Jackson. “I think the Saudis are making an extra big deal about it, like they’re covering something up. I mean, the way they talked about him earlier, you’d think they’d be happy he was gone.”

“So you’re saying . . .” Jasper paused to formulate the right words for what he knew sounded asinine. “You’re saying that the Saudis might have assassinated Dr. Wahl right in the hospital?”

“They certainly have a motive,” said Jackson. “And when they want something, they get it. They don’t care. They can get away with anything, even in this town.”

“Our hackers also have a motive,” said Jasper. “He was found right in front of the cable closet. Dr. Wahl could have caught them breaking in.”

Every floor of the hospital had a small room full of highly sensitive computers and routers and communications equipment which acted like satellites, eyes and ears to central command. And Dr. Wahl just so happened to be found stabbed to death in front of one of them. On a surgery level. In front of a door that had been pried open.

“We might never solve this,” said Jasper. “But it’s not really our job.”

“Wrong,” said Jackson. “While we’re here it is. So we’ve got to start from somewhere. Right now it’s about eliminating the Saudis.”

“Eliminate?” asked Jasper.

“As suspects.”

“Oh . . . Of course.”

Jackson rolled his eyes as he rechecked both ends of the hallway. “There’s always that organ-harvesting angle. Rumors that he’s been involved in a few early deaths. Maybe his trade partners thought we were the FBI.”

“Right,” said Jasper. “He told a coworker that I might be an undercover agent.”

“So maybe someone panicked and wanted to cover their tracks.”

“So then . . .” Jasper looked at Sam. “Are you going to have Sam go have a visit with Clarence?”

Jackson chuckled, his face fighting a smile. He seemed to find it funny, or disturbing.

“Well?” said Jasper.

Jackson regained his composure. “Let’s just try the Saudis first.” He patted Sam on the shoulder and said, “Right?”

“We should probably tell them something to make them nervous,” said Sam. “Make them squirm a bit. Maybe say the police have already identified the murderer, or they’re tracking him down. I’ll study their reaction to that.”

“I like this man’s imagination,” Jackson said, smiling at his new secret weapon.

“Yeah, but how does he know what they’re saying,” said Jasper, “if they start muttering amongst themselves? They do a lot of muttering.”

Sam waved his hand, nodding. “It doesn’t matter.”

“He doesn’t need to know what they’re saying,” said Jackson.

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone in there who can speak Arabic.”

Sam was still nodding. And then he said, “Aiwa,” his voice sounding not nasally at all but deep and guttural. And Arabic. Perfect local slang for Yes.

“Alright,” said Jasper, feeling not very useful anymore. “I guess I’ll join Eric and check on the cable room.”

* * *

MPD detectives were already on the scene. They had a large section of the floor cordoned off with yellow tape, as well as a few large officers turning away any unwanted attention. Without stopping by the hospital’s administration floors to grab Eric, Jasper would’ve probably been turned away. Instead, he hung back and waited quietly as Eric was referred to three or four officers, passed along to one after another and each time him showing his name badge and documentation, each time his shoulders heaving as he pleaded his case. And when they were finally allowed in the communications room, he had some more pleading to do.

“Are you forensics or computer forensics?” he asked one of plainclothes officers.

“Both,” one of them said. “So don’t go touching anything yet.”

“Who are you?” the other asked Eric.

“Cybersecurity,” said Eric.

“You work for the hospital?”

Eric nodded. “Yeah. In-house.”

The officer snapped a photo and said, “We already had one of your guys in here. You might want to go talk with him.”

“Who?” Eric asked. “I’m the only one authorized to do this.”

“Not according to that guy.”

“What guy?”

“Whoever was just in here,” said the officer, snapping another photo. “You might want to check with your boss.”

Eric looked over to Jasper with a frown. “That can’t be right. Something sounds a little fucked.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” said the detective. “Guy got stabbed to death.”

The detectives only gave Jasper fifteen minutes to check over the equipment and their systems. But that was all he needed. Nothing had been tampered with. At least, nothing seemed tampered with. He would have to access the system on his own to check more thoroughly. But even if nothing had been hacked or compromised or stolen, the mission was definitely not going as planned.

Jasper weighed the possibilities, but he had trouble identifying which was worse. They either had their first physical, real-world attack from the still-unknown hacker group, or the Saudis were picking people off at will.

Or it was just a random, pointless killing.

Either way, the clusterfuck that was Lambert Memorial Hospital just got a lot messier.

He wondered what Clarence would make of all this, the person most hesitant and anxious about the idea from the start. He had a lot to lose.

But maybe not as much as Prince Saif.

* * *

He found her alone, in a chair against the wall at the far end of the hallway, Fiona, the crumpled mess that used to be his sexy and capable nurse. A shell of the person she had been just mere hours ago.

When he crouched down next to her, even with the sound of his knee popping from an old cartilage problem, she did nothing. No response. Just head down, hand to her head. He placed his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it as gently as he could. And with his other hand he offered her a cup of hot jasmine tea, which she finally moved for and accepted.

He knew what to do, but not what to say. A common conundrum.

He still tried anyhow, as usual, slowly and carefully. “Did you see what happened?” Had she witnessed the man getting stabbed?

She kept silent.

It was a dumb question, really. Jasper imagined that she’d be encircled by detectives, or whisked off somewhere for further questioning. Not left alone and waiting for a brave rescuer to bring her a cup of tea.

He tried again.

“I’m here. If you want to talk or anything. Or if you just want some space.”

She took a sip of tea. And then thanked him for it.

“Can I get you anything else?”

She shrugged. “Can you make this day end somehow? I’m really ready for it to end.”

“It’s probably a good idea for you to go home,” Jasper said. “If you can. I know you probably have lot of responsibilities here.”

“Nothing like yours. You’re stuck here no matter how bad it gets.”

“Well, let’s hope the storm has passed.”

“Yeah . . .” She was nodding, a dazed look on her face, her eyes looking past Jasper and down the hall. As bad as it was to lose a colleague, she seemed like she’d been through something much worse.

“Were you . . .” Jasper trailed off and then restarted. “Were you very . . . close . . . with him?” He immediately felt bad about asking, him watching the tears well up in Fiona’s eyes, her hand quickly wiping them. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

She shook her head. “We weren’t close at all.” Her voice came out weakly and coated with tears and sniffles. “I didn’t even like him.”

“I know,” Jasper said. “I know it’s hard.”

“No. It’s my sister.”

Jasper reached for her hand, holding it while she told him about a different tragedy, his heart breaking as he listened to what she’d been through. And then she pulled it away to wipe another wave of tears.

“I’m fine,” she said, clearing her throat. “I just need to get out of here.” She sniffed again and raised her head, looking around.

“Do you need any help?” Jasper asked.

“You’re busy.”

“Never too busy for you. Where do you need to go?”

“Hey,” came a loud, strong voice. A cop, walking up to them with a puffed chest. “Youse two need to go. We’re closing the whole floor down.”

Jasper turned to absorb the cop’s spewing, standing between him and Fiona.

“Who are you?” asked the cop with a kind of twisted smirk.

“We’ll get going in a minute,” said Jasper.

“I asked who you were.”

“I don’t care. I’m talking to my friend here.” He tried his best to pronounce the words as evenly and calmly as possible. But mouthy cops made that a difficult task.

“I don’t care about your friend, Pal.” He was standing inches away from Jasper now.

“Who are you?” Jasper spat back at him. It wasn’t the wittiest of comebacks. But anything was better than what he really wanted to do, which was to respond with something other than words.

“I know who he is,” said Fiona. “Officer Elgin. Right?”

He looked a little confused. “Yeah, you read my badge.”

“Yeah,” she said. “And last year I helped the doctor extract a broken cucumber out of your rectum.”

There was a distinct and audible sound of the wind getting knocked out of naughty Officer Elgin. And a look, a priceless expression that had gone from feigned confusion to legitimate devastation. Like he’d been kicked in the balls. Or kicked somewhere else and with half a boot sticking out like that most unfortunate cucumber.

It was all the man could take, just that one simple line, that kill shot delivered so deftly by Fiona. It was damned impressive. And Jasper had seen some great snipers in action.

“Wow,” was all Jasper could say. What else could anyone say after that? Especially the cop, who had made his escape, walking away from them with a slight waddle like it was the after-effect of an even greater humiliation than what Fiona had doled out.

Meanwhile, she had stood up from the chair without saying anything, her face looking a little proud, but her legs still standing with a slight unsteadiness.

Jasper took her arm. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.” Her legs and even her arms appeared weak and almost twitchy. “Are you okay?” He wrapped his arm around her and held her up against his side. “I can help you walk to—”

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” She started walking with him. “Thank you. I just need to snap out of it.”

“Snap out of what?”

“This,” she said, pointing to her teary red face. “My God. I’m usually pretty good in, you know, crisis situations.”

“Well, you’re getting hit on both fronts here,” said Jasper. “It’s okay to need time.”

“Thanks again for the tea.” She smiled weakly and then took a sip. “Are you still doing that surgery today?”

“Not me personally,” he laughed and immediately felt like an idiot. “But . . . you mean the prince?”

She nodded, snuffling.

“We don’t have a choice. And, with the way his heart is, he doesn’t have a choice.” Jasper watched as another wave of detectives entered the crime scene, bending the police tape over their heads as they ducked in. “This is totally . . . Aside from this, from a cybersecurity standpoint, we’re just about totally secure. And we’ll have guards watching the room, of course.” He turned back to Fiona, who, despite the tears and the running eyeliner, looked as beautiful as ever. “Again, I’m just . . . I’m so sorry about your sister.”

“Well, it was expected, so . . . I guess that’s why I’m so surprised it hit me like this.”

“You can expect something like that. But you can never really prepare for it.”

“I thought I had.”

He watched the way she bit her bottom lip, how she put on her brace face. A life in the medical field can add emotional calluses, but she was still fragile. “I’ll be in town for at least a week after all this.”

Fiona nodded, her lip still sucked in. She might have been grieving, and there might have just been a murder, but she looked sexy as hell. He felt immensely guilty for even thinking that. But it was the truth.

“I want to see you,” she said, her eyes looking up into his.

“Can I call you tonight? See how you are?”

She reached her arms out for him, like a little girl needing a hug. And he answered, sliding his body against hers and holding it warmly. She sighed, long and loud, as Jasper felt the top of her head come to a rest against his chest. He bowed his head to hers, and kissed her just once, very gently and politely, just below her hairline.

They’d come a long ways, through a number of years, from zero to sixty with his bed bath rub-n-tug, and now, back to a sweet politeness. But there was something extra. Something deeper. And the way she breathed into him, and melted into him, he knew she could feel it too.

He held her longer than he’d expected, until a voice from outside the embrace said, “Jasper?”

Jasper felt Fiona unclasp. He turned to greet the great spoiler.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Jackson, whose expression did not match the words. “Can I get you to take a look at the body, in the morgue?”

Jasper agreed to the grim task with a simple nod. And then he turned to check on Fiona, who looked disturbed and deep in thought. “I’m sorry,” he said. Sorry on behalf of Jackson, and having to hear about “business.” Sorry for the whole damn thing, really.

She shrugged like it hardly mattered. She kept up that brave, pretty face, for Jasper’s sake or probably even her own. “I’ll be fine,” she said.