Read Wings of Refuge for Free Online Page B

.” Tears sprang to her eyes again as she remembered. She couldn’t finish.
    “Good heavens! No wonder there was so much extra security at the airport when we landed. But . . . but, oh dear . . . were you injured? Are you all right?” Dr. Voss seemed flustered by her tears.
    “I’m fine, just a bit shaken,” she said, quickly wiping her eyes.
    “What can I do?” He pulled out a handkerchief, and Abby thought he was going to offer it to her, but he mopped his freckled forehead with it instead. Abby composed herself.
    “I could use a change of clothes,” she said. “Do you think one of the women in your group could loan me something to wear until my luggage arrives?”
    “I’ll send my wife over with something.” He looked clearly relieved to shift Abby and her problems into someone else’s hands. “Listen, I also came to tell you that dinner is at seven in the dining room, followed by a short orientation meeting. But if you’d rather skip the meeting and order room service, I’d understand.”
    “No, no, I think the sooner I get started with the graduate course, the sooner I’ll be able to . . . you know, put everything behind me.”
    “Splendid.” He jammed the handkerchief into his shirt pocket, where it drooped like a wilted flower. “We were supposed to have a much longer orientation meeting tonight, as you know from the schedule, but Hannah—Dr. Rahov, that iS—Was called away after a sudden death in the family, and—”
    Abby’s hands flew to her face. “That’s right! He said they were cousins!”
    “Who did? Are you sure you’re all right, my dear?”
    “Mr. Rosen—the man who was shot—he told me that Dr. Rahov was his cousin.”
    “You mean the man died?”
    “Yes . . . my arms.”
    “Oh my!” A bead of sweat dripped from Dr. Voss’s nose, and he searched his pockets for his handkerchief before finally locating it in his shirt pocket. “Oh my! Then you were a witness! It’s a wonder they didn’t detain you!”
    “Well, they did . . . for a while. But as I said, Dr. Bazak came to my rescue and—”
    “He’s the new associate you mentioned?”
    “Yes, his name is Aaron Bazak.” Abby was growing weary of Dr. Voss and this circular conversation. How many times would she have to relive her ordeal? “Listen, Dr. Bazak’s room is right next door to mine if you—”
    “Bazak . . . Aaron Bazak,” he repeated, as though he were paging through an invisible Rolodex file in his brain. “Wait a minute . . . I know that name! Young hotshot archaeologist, did some brilliant work with Roman sites until he disappeared several years ago. . . . Or did he die? Yes, I think I read that he died in a terrorist bombing. Shame, really . . .”
    “No, he’s quite alive,” Abby said. She pushed past Dr. Voss to knock on Ari’s door. She had already learned from Dr. Voss’s rambling telephone conversations that it was sometimes necessary to interrupt him. “He’s not so young, either, Dr. Voss. Midforties, I would say.” She knocked again, harder. No one answered. So much for Ari’s promise to be close by if she needed him.
    Abby glanced at her watch and saw that she would have just enough time for a shower before dinner. “Do you think your wife could bring me that change of clothes now, Dr. Voss?”
    He looked at Abby blankly before remembering. “Right! You need some clothing. I’ll tell my wife.”
    ----
    The shower felt wonderful, even if it didn’t last as long as Abby would have liked. A small sign posted in the bathroom discreetly asked hotel patrons to help conserve water in this semiarid nation. It reminded her of Mr. Rosen and his search for new ways to grow crops. Her tears for him fell freely as she showered.
    Afterward, Abby changed into the baggy sunflower-strewn shorts and neon-yellow T-shirt that Dr. Voss’s wife had loaned her, then studied her reflection in the mirror. Ramona Voss was five inches shorter and at least twenty pounds heavier than Abby. Between