Read Intervention for Free Online

Jack peered into the depths of the chest cavity and up toward the head, lifting the anterior wall of the chest. “We’ve got to do an arteriogram X-ray of the vasculature to the brain,” Jack said out loud, more to himself than to Vinnie. He was clearly disappointed with himself.
    “You know I can’t put the brain back,” Vinnie said hesitantly, worried that Jack was blaming him for something.
    “Of course I know that,” Jack said. “We can’t reverse what we’ve already done. I’m talking about an arteriogram of the vasculature leading to the brain, not of the brain itself. Just get some contrast dye and a big syringe!”
    4
    2:36 P.M., MONDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2008
    CAIRO, EGYPT
    (7:36 A.M. NEW YORK CITY)
    T hrough the shimmering heat, Sana Daughtry could see the Four Seasons Hotel from the taxi as it threaded through traffic. Staying there had been Shawn’s idea. Sana was supposed to have stayed at the Semiramis Intercontinental, where her conference was being held. In addition to being one of the principal speakers, she’d also been required to serve on multiple panels, and accordingly needed to be there all four days. It would have been far more convenient for her to have been at the Semiramis, to have had the option of occasionally popping up to her room.
    Once Shawn had decided to go along on the trip, he had taken over the travel decision-making. It had been his choice to take the hotel credit from the Semiramis and apply it to a room at the newer and much more posh Four Seasons. When Sana had complained about the unnecessary extra cost, Shawn had informed her that he’d found an archaeology meeting for himself, making the extra cost a tax deduction. At that point Sana hadn’t argued. There was no point.
    With the driver paid, Sana slipped from the cab. She was glad to get away. The driver had peppered her with questions. Sana was a private person, unlike her husband, who could strike up conversations with just about anyone. From Sana’s perspective, he had little sense as to what should be private and what should be available for public consumption. There had even been a few occasions when it seemed that Shawn was making an effort to impress strangers, particularly female strangers, with information about their expensive New York City lifestyle that included their living in one of the few remaining wood frame, clapboard houses in New York City’s West Village. Why he would want to brag about such a thing she had no idea, although she assumed, psychologically speaking, that it had to reflect some insecurity.
    The doorman greeted Sana welcomingly as she passed into the hotel’s lobby. She expected to find Shawn out at the pool, since he was far less concerned than she about actually attending his conference. Over the last few days he’d struck up poolside conversations with one or two women, who would now know more about their life than Sana would have preferred. But she was determined not to allow it to get to her as it had in the past. More than once she’d considered that maybe she was the exception, not Shawn; maybe she was just a private prude and should ease up.
    A youngish, elegantly dressed gentleman managed to board the elevator just as the doors were closing. He’d obviously had to run the last few steps and was breathing deeply. He looked at Sana and smiled. Sana looked up at the floor indicator. The man was in a Western suit, complete with a billowing pocket square. Like Shawn, he had a distinctly international air, but he was a much younger, more attractive version.
    “Terrific day, isn’t it!” the man proclaimed with an obvious American accent. Unlike Shawn, he apparently didn’t feel the need to affect an English accent when talking with strangers.
    If there’d been anyone else in the car, Sana would have assumed he was talking to them.
    She met his gaze, guessing he was close to her age of twenty-eight. Judging by his attire, he was presumably rather successful