Jihad Read Free Page B

men’s drinks was powerful, but the dose in the capsule had been designed for one man, not two, and Karr wasn’t sure it would completely knock the doctor out. He hoped it would; the alternative plan called for him to pop the physician while they changed. He didn’t want to do that, not because it was more complicated, but because he didn’t want to hurt the guy, who seemed a congenial sort.
    But the drug didn’t seem to be working, even though the doctor had drunk nearly the entire glass of tea. He picked up the tube of the pipe, closing his eyes as he took a long breath. Karr found himself staring at him when the doctor opened his eyes.
    “Have another puff,” sad the doctor, passing him the pipe.
    “Love to,” lied Karr. The doctor’s friend looked a little tired at least.
    “So what is your specialty?” asked the doctor.
    “Pediatrics,” said Karr. “But I was thinking I might get into psychiatry.”
    “Psychiatry?”
    “Yeah. Kind of like what you do, only from a different angle.”
    Since he’d had to strip naked to get into the baths, Karr was out of communication with the Art Room. A small implant in his skull functioned as an internal headphone, but the real guts of the radio were sewn into his clothes and belt back in a changing room. Without help from the Art Room, he couldn’t take the conversation too far or make it too specific; Karr knew a lot about a lot of things, but had always kept as far as possible from doctors and their craft.
    “The brain—some things should be mysterious,” said the Turkish doctor, taking the pipe.
    “I think you’re right,” said Karr.
    “The human organism—to be—it is not—a machine.”
    With the last word, the doctor’s head edged backwards. Karr caught him and leaned him against the back of the seat. He turned and found the doctor’s companion already passed out, head against the top of the cushion.
    “I really want to thank you guys for the tobacco,” said Karr, making them comfortable. “And the curdled milk.”
    He stood up. The attendant came over, staring at the men.
    “Guess I bored them,” Karr said, heading for his clothes.

CHAPTER 6
     
    DR. SAED RAMIL SMILED at the head of internal medicine at Istanbul Medical University Center, nodding as Dr. Ozdilick explained the small private hospital’s elaborate computer system. Each resident at the hospital carried a wireless device that allowed him to see a patient’s complete chart instantly. The devices could display X-rays and other scans as well, though it was generally more convenient to use one of the many larger screens littering the hallways and walls of the rooms.
    “Impressive,” said Ramil. He wondered where Charlie Dean was. He didn’t need him for the procedure, but the op was good insurance if anything went wrong.
    Not that it would.
    Dr. Ozdilick pulled up a pharmacological reference on one of the wall screens. Ramil, trying not to overplay his role as an interested foreign doctor, gave a restrained “mmm” in admiration.
    “In your own specialties of neurology and trauma, we have all of the diagnostic tools one could wish,” said his guide, jabbing a menu at the lower left of the large screen. The screen filled with icons indicating a number of programs. Ramil stared at them as if he were seeing them for the first time.
    “You’re frowning,” said Dr. Ozdilick.
    “Oh, just trying to decipher these.” Ramil feigned a smile. Instead of practicing the procedure umpteen times with the Desk Three people, he should have taken an acting course. That was the tough part of this, wasn’t it? Pretending to be someone else. The medical procedure he could do cold.
    Any second, Red Lion would be wheeled through the doors downstairs and they could get to work. Then he’d relax. It would be like the old days, the really old days in Vietnam when he worked in the MASH unit. He’d be nervous until the snap of the gloves. Then something else would take over and the butterflies