The Exchange: After The Firm

Samir arrived in a rush, still growling at the desk manager, who followed him and did little but get in the way. He and Samir bickered in Arabic. Behind them were two uniformed medics with a gurney. They spoke to Mitch as Samir translated. They checked his blood pressure — too high. His pulse was 150. He was definitely dehydrated. Samir patted Mitch on the arm and said, “We’re going to the hospital, okay, Mitch?”

“Okay. You’re going with me, right?”

“Of course. We have a good hospital in the city. Trust me. Don’t worry.”

They rolled Mitch out of the room, down the hall, and to the elevators, with Samir and Giovanna close behind. Another medic was waiting in the lobby. The ambulance was at the front door. Samir said to Giovanna, “Ride with me. We’ll follow.” To Mitch he said, “I’ve called the right doctors. They’ll meet us at the hospital.”

Mitch kept his eyes closed and nodded. He would remember nothing from his first ride in an ambulance, except for the wailing siren.

With no traffic to contend with, they raced through the streets and within minutes wheeled him into the ER at the Metiga Military Hospital, a complex so modern it would look at home in any American suburb.

“A military hospital?” Giovanna asked.

“Yes, the best in the country. If you have money or connections, you come here. Our generals get the best of everything in Libya.”

Without the slightest concern, Samir parked in a no-parking zone. They hustled into the ER and followed the gurney. Mitch was taken into an exam room and tucked into a bed. Nurses and technicians scurried about, and after fearing the worst, he was relieved at the attention and level of care. Samir and Giovanna were allowed into the room. A Dr. Omran appeared bedside and took charge. With a wide smile and a thick accent he said, “Mr. McDeere, I, too, studied at Harvard.”

Small world. Mitch managed his first smile in hours and relaxed as much as possible. With Giovanna’s help, they tag-teamed through every bite they had eaten not only at dinner but also for lunch. While they talked, two nurses poked him with a needle and hooked him to an IV drip. They checked his vitals and drew a small vial of blood.

Dr. Omran seemed perplexed by the narrative but wasn’t worried. “It’s not unheard of for one person to get sick while the others are not fazed. It’s unusual, but it happens.” He looked at Giovanna and said, “There’s still a chance you have the bacteria and might not feel well. It can hang around for a day or two.”

She said, “No, I feel fine. No symptoms at all.”

He spoke in Arabic to the nurses. A technician left to fetch something. To Mitch he said, “Let’s try a couple of meds. One to calm the nausea and stop the cramping, another to ease the pain and maybe allow you some sleep.”

Both sounded wonderful and Mitch smiled again. In an effort at toughness, he asked, “When can I get out of here?”

“You’re being admitted, Mr. McDeere,” the doctor said with a smile. “You’re not leaving anytime soon.”

And he was fine with that. He especially liked the part about the painkiller and a long nap. Cramps were still rolling through his guts. His head was still spinning. He had no desire to do anything but drift away for a few hours. He thought of Abby and the boys and knew they were safe. The last thing they needed was an urgent call from Libya with bad news. He would be fine in a few hours.

Giovanna said, “Mitch, it’s almost four A.M. We were supposed to leave at five.”

Dr. Omran said, “He’s in no condition.”

“Can we delay it twenty-four hours?” Mitch asked.

Samir and the doctor stared at each other, then both shook their heads. The doctor said, “I’m not sure I can release you in twenty-four hours. I want to see the blood work.”

Samir said, “The trip is approved for today. I would have to go back and ask for another approval. As I’ve said, the government is getting stricter. For obvious reasons they are not thrilled with this claim by Lannak, and they are approving today’s visit only to make themselves look good in court.”

Mitch asked, “So, they might not approve another date?”

“Who knows? I think they will, but they’ll delay a decision for a few days, just to make us wait. These are bureaucrats, Mitch. Tough guys.”

Giovanna said, “I’ll go, Mitch. I know the summaries, the checklist, everything. I can handle it. Let’s do it and get it over with.”

Mitch closed his eyes and endured another wave of cramps. At that moment, he had been in Libya long enough and couldn’t wait to leave. He looked at Samir and asked, “And you still think it’s safe?”

“Mitch, if I didn’t believe so, we would not be here now. As I’ve said, I’ve made the trip a dozen times and never felt threatened.”

“And you’ll go today?”

“Mitch, I work for you, your firm, and your client. You are in charge. If you want me to accompany the team, then I’ll go.”

Mitch grunted “Ahh!” and said through clenched teeth, “Diarrhea! Someone get the bedpan!”