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Published by , 2017-06-06 21:02:50

9781478785873

9781478785873

TM

Entangled Jasmine
A Medical Thriller
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2017 Patrick Delaney
v2.0

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To my lovely wife,Tracy,
the apsara of my dreams.



Chapter One

T he glaring white light permitted no shadows, only the glint of
stainless steel. A splash of color, red on blue, came from blood-
stained surgical drapes. Alarms beeped incessantly, drawing attention
to flashing monitors. Paper masks muffled clipped speech. Hour upon
hour of tense concentration had worn them all down. Nothing outside
the room mattered. Eyes deprived of sleep kept a blinking focus on
life and death.

“She’s tubed, prepped, and ready to rock, Doc.”
Stanley began every case with those lines, but this time something
was different. Dr. Matt Jenson stood fast at the OR table, bloodstained
gloves motionless over the incision. He glanced up at the veteran sur-
gical nurse. They had both been scrubbed in for the last forty-plus
hours. Stanley’s enormous ears protruded from either side of the blue
paper mask and cap that covered all but his thick black rim glasses.The
gray eyes were unfocused and glazed with fatigue.Then his gloved hand
began a slow-motion drop from the stainless steel table as he slumped
forward. Someone caught him from behind and eased him to the floor.
Dr. Jenson returned his focus to the deepening red wound. Others
scrambled to assess their fallen colleague.The anesthesiologist’s voice
carried from somewhere below. Stanley was fine, just asleep. Another
nurse stepped up across the table. Pretty blue eyes and petite hands.

S1S

PATRICK DELANEY

Jenson looked up at the wall clock. Forty-two hours without a
break. Must have broken half a dozen of the training hour rules by
now. The limp figure under the surgical drapes had a bad pelvic frac-
ture. Nicked an artery too. He’d clamped that down in the ED. But
the train that jumped the tracks into downtown rush hour traffic had
injured others much more severely. She’d had to wait a lot longer than
anyone would have liked.

The room had grown quiet again. Everyone was flat-out exhausted.
Another gowned figure moved in next to him. As he explored deeper
into the wound, experienced hands began manipulating the retractors
in the operating field.

“How are you doing, Matt?”
His tired brain recognized the calm, gravelly voice. Dr. John Sibley,
chairman of orthopedics at the university. He only rarely visited the OR
these days, but the disaster had brought a need for all available surgeons.
“A hundred percent, sir.Thank you for coming in to help.”
Blue Eyes chimed in.
“A hundred percent? How can that be? I’ve been on and off duty
twice while you’ve been standing here in all this gore.”
Jenson glanced up at the nurse. A little peaked, but hanging in
there. Couldn’t guess her age behind the mask. Dr. Sibley turned his
head toward her as his hands continued the delicate choreography
within the patient.
“What’s your name, young lady?”
“Ann Marie, sir.”
“Well, Ann Marie, Dr. Jenson here is not just another graduating
resident,” Dr. Sibley said. “He’s had a few years of blood and guts train-
ing, courtesy of the U.S. Marine Corps.”
Yup. Always better to give than to receive, Jenson reflected dryly.
Dr. Sibley turned his attention to the younger man.
“Graduation is just a few days away. Planning to take some time
off, Matt?”

S2S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

Jenson brought his face down to his shoulder and wiped his eyes.
The chairman’s probably trying to keep me awake, he thought. Thank god
this was the last case.

“No particular plans, sir. Just some down time. Maybe go visit my
brother.”

The older man nodded.
“Well, I know you’ll need some rest first, but I want you to con-
sider something.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m supposed to give a talk at a brand-new medical school in Kuala
Lumpur next week. First-class seats, five-star hotel, and a driver. But
it’s twenty-six or so hours each way, and I’m not getting any younger.
Why don’t you go, give the lecture, and take a few days to play?You’d
be doing an old man a favor.”
Sounded pretty damn good.
“But I’m sure they want the distinguished and legendary John
Sibley, sir.”
Jenson could see him smile, even beneath the mask.
“I’m sending my star trauma surgeon, which is exactly what those
young students will want. It’s settled then.”
“Can I go, too?” Blue Eyes asked from across the table.

S3S

Chapter Two

She came for the pale autumn moonlight.Not the very palest,but the third
or fourth lightest. Gentle quiet bathed her elegance. Cool air fresh with scents
of opening jasmine. She disappeared in beauty of her own choosing and slipped
away in his focus. A feeling, a longing without clarity. He waited for an intan-
gible presence, hoping he would not miss her.

H e awoke in the pleasant afterglow, his dreams departing as ten-
drils of incense. When did I become a damned poet? A vertical
sliver of neon light revealed contours of a dark room. His eyes shot
to a loud rip of snoring a few feet away. Oh, yeah. His brother Jack
in the other bed. Now he recalled where he was. Matt Jenson smiled
in the blackness.They hadn’t slept in the same room in decades. He
checked his watch and tried the math: 2200 hours here, so just six
in the morning back home. He rolled to his feet and pulled back
the heavy window curtain.The blare of color changed to an electric
chartreuse. The light came from atop a tower adjacent to his hotel.
In the distance were twin, glittering skyscrapers that dwarfed the
city around them. Below him traffic jammed the streets and the side-
walk writhed with nightlife. Exotic Kuala Lumpur beckoned. The
snoring suddenly stopped.

“What’s it look like out there?”

S4S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

“Happening. Like they didn’t just spend twenty-six hours on a
plane.”

“Well, I haven’t been able to sleep since we got here. Let’s go
check it out.”

The room light came on and he saw Jack’s mustachioed face blink-
ing fiercely.

“You always snore when you’re awake?”
“Family trait, brother.”
“Are you saying I snore?”
“Only when you’re thinking.”
Jack was in a perpetually good mood. Matt admired that. Probably
why he was such a phenomenal triathlete, Matt thought. Or why he
would tag along on a trip like this with so little warning.
They headed down for a look about. The Cathay Premier was a
five-star hotel smack downtown in KL City Centre. They emerged
from the bright elegance of the lobby out into the heat and humidity
of the night.The congested, uneven streets of Kuala Lumpur led them
past the crowded steps of a train station.The wall outside the LRT fea-
tured gorgeous western models wearing high-end jewelry. Sitting be-
low the signs and against those same walls were the outcasts of society,
hoping not for pity but only loose change. Jack nudged his shoulder as
a Chinese beauty with high heels, trim legs, and a short cocktail dress
cut between three silhouettes in shapeless brown burkas.
The heavy, moisture-laden air was thick with the smell of cooking,
human sweat, and city grime.A clatter of music and traffic noise from
every direction stirred the milieu.They left the large thoroughfare out-
side the hotel and took a random right turn into an alley between two
food stalls.The obstacle course of hawkers, locals, and the curious was
just as mobbed.The sweet, rotting smell of durian wafted to him. He
stepped swiftly into a stand of imitation watches at the sudden sound
of a two-cylinder motor behind him. An obese man on an absurdly
small motorbike pushed past him and into the knot of humanity. Rain

S5S

PATRICK DELANEY

dripped from somewhere above onto the grimy, long-sleeved white
shirt that was left unbuttoned to cover the protruding belly.The rider
took in everything without the slightest of head movements.The black
helmet was way too small for the bullet-shaped head. Jenson let him
pass and moved on. He felt a little edgy in the press of the crowd.
Twitchy reflexes from years of combat patrols, most likely. He looked
back at his brother. Jack seemed to be enjoying it all as he checked out
a sport watch before wading comfortably into the crowd. I need to be
more like him, Matt thought. He exhaled slowly and tried to relax.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think much about that stint in the
Corps, until now. As he had hoped, the jump into medical school and
now surgical residency had kept him too busy to digest the memories.
All those ops. His team.The killing. Now all the medical training was
finally coming to a close. But it hadn’t buried his past like he’d hoped.

Long black hair flowing seductively over a blue blouse. His at-
tention snapped to the athletic young woman in tight-fitting jeans
standing directly across the intersection.A flash of bright, clear brown
eyes set above high cheekbones captured him. He stepped out into the
street, yanking Jack’s sleeve as he went. He dodged through the snarl
of slow moving cars, just in time to glimpse her turn the corner and
disappear.

“Brother!”
Jack’s voice came over his shoulder.
“Haven’t seen you move like that in years!”
He grinned back at him.
“It’s great to have you along, Jack. Feels like a vacation. Come on,
let me buy you a beer.”

S6S

Chapter Three

I t was a night carnival with eight million people. Every alleyway,
nook and cranny offered a hawker selling something from a table or
makeshift stall.They meandered forward in the flow of the crowd.The
tide of humanity poured out into a larger avenue lined on either side
with eateries and peppered with picnic tables. Red Chinese lanterns
swayed overhead. The scent of peanut sauce and spices gave way to
wafts of curries and sizzling seafood.The dense crowd surged toward
upscale malls that would give Rodeo Drive a run for the money.Across
the next large intersection loomed an elevated train station, below
which hung a garish neon green sign. An escalator appeared, taking
them down below the sign and into an indoor gallery of Chinese and
Thai food stalls. Jack shouted in his ear.

“It’s all locals in here!”
“Then this is the place.”
They had come for a beer, but when they sat down it was with
plates loaded with duck, “Penang’s Best” kuey teow, and black KL noo-
dles. And a beer.
He demolished his plate quickly, finally starting to feel relaxed.
Across the table, his brother looked to be slowing down, too. Jack was
nearly his same height, but lean and muscular in a way that marked
him as a serious athlete.The full moustache was still brown and bushy,

S7S

PATRICK DELANEY

and now complemented by a five o’clock shadow accrued from the
long flight. Bright blue, wide-set eyes were set in a broad, honest face.
Five years younger didn’t hurt either. Matt raised his bottle in toast.

“You’re a good-looking devil,” he said.
“Must be the genes.”
Jack clinked his beer against his brother’s. It was lost in the crowd
noise.
“Great to be here with you, man. Can’t believe all these years have
passed.Your hospital hours and my travel just never sync.”
Matt nodded. Seemed like he hadn’t been outside the hospital in
months.With his prior stint in the Marines, he hadn’t seen Jack more
than a handful of times over the past few years.
“So catch me up, Jack. I know you’re still working the transport
stuff in D.C., but what about the rest?”
“Business is booming, Matt. I think you know we do a lot of ship-
ping for the DOD. Keeps me traveling. Hard to keep up the training.”
“You hide it well. I think I heard that you were in the top one per-
cent of triathletes in your age group.”
Jack cocked his head, but didn’t deny it. Matt continued.
“Yeah, you look fit enough to be a marine. Me, I’ve got a bad knee
and PTSD to show for it all.”
Jack laughed.
“Maybe, but the PTSD is from Catholic school, not the Marines.
I’ve seen all those freakin’ medals you brought home. Must’ve kicked
ass. Believe me, following in your footsteps growing up was no picnic.
I realized it’d be a helluva lot easier not to play water polo or join the
Marines. And I figured I’d live longer.”
Matt took a long swig of his beer.
“Amen to that. Sure glad you could scrape together the time to
come out here.”
“One of the benefits of being single, as I’m sure you know.”
They locked eyes.

S8S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

“Seriously, with you finishing your surgical training, it seemed like
an important moment to celebrate with my big brother.”

Jack fished something from his pocket and pushed it across the ta-
ble. Matt picked it up and inspected the brand-new Omega Seamaster
dive watch. He let out a low whistle.

“This doesn’t look like one of those twenty-dollar knockoffs this
place is famous for.”

His younger brother smiled.
“It’s not, Matt. Like I said, finishing your training is a big deal, and
I’m happy to be here to celebrate with you.”
“You shouldn’t have done this.Thanks, man.”
A broad smile appeared below the thick moustache.
“My pleasure. Besides, it doesn’t begin to cover what I’ve saved on
the hotel room.”
They both laughed, toasting again with the last of the beers.
Jack’s blue eyes closed in a slow-motion blink. He stretched his
muscular arms before a yawn finally erupted.
“Time for some shut-eye?”
“Absolutely.”

S9S

Chapter Four

D r. Deepak Gupta spotted the black Rolls-Royce Phantom
through the thick safety glass of the Pentagon exit doors. The
sleek sedan hovered near the security gates, almost certainly awaiting
his appearance. How did the billionaire always know where to find
him? The heavy door in front of him was yanked open a little harder
than necessary. He nodded his thanks to his young assistant. Sammy
Mahmud was tall and wiry, with a hawkish nose and a tangle of black
hair. And a high standard of social justice. Probably the result of being
the only Muslim kid in a conservative Christian private school.

Dr. Gupta reached involuntarily for his stomach as the acid burn of his
ulcer flared again. He knew what was coming.The two men said nothing
until they were outside the building.They descended the steps and walked
toward the gates.And the limousine.Then the questions erupted.

“They’ve weaponized it, Deepak.”
The scientist pushed his thick glasses back up his perspiring nose.
He glanced at his young companion. Such moral conviction.
“An economic weapon, yes.”
“No, Deepak. It was economic when they prevented the uprising
in Tripoli by strategically funding bakeries. But not these things we
heard today. Special Forces inserting cases of altered AK-47 rounds in
Syria? Drone strikes in civilian areas?”

S 10 S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

Discussing this outside the walls of the Pentagon made him ner-
vous. He put his hand on his young confidant’s arm.

“Sammy, keep your voice down out here.”
He looked around as he spoke.There had to be surveillance cam-
eras and microphones all about them.
“The drone strike killed a butcher of men before he could kill
more innocents. All because our computer program analyzed traffic
flow, flight times, restaurant trends, and a host of other data.A precise
strike that limited the casualties. And the bullets? They already know
one killed the sniper who loaded it into his own weapon. His own
weapon, Sammy.”
They were nearly at the gate. The younger man’s stage whisper
hissed immediately back.
“And where will it lead? When will they begin preemptively kill-
ing, or targeting civilians in the name of security?”
The acid welled up in his stomach. He shared the same fear.
They’d already called Uber for a ride back to their lab at the uni-
versity, but now that wouldn’t be necessary. A tall man in a cheap suit
came around the Rolls-Royce Phantom and opened the back door. No
smile, just cold recognition. Dr. Gupta shivered. But he knew the car
well. It was the limousine of his childhood friend, Rasheed Datta.The
dapper billionaire reclined in one of the two rear seats as he chatted on
his cell phone. His free hand waved a hello, and then pointed Sammy
toward the front seat.
The scientist hoisted himself into the plush brown leather seat be-
side Rasheed. As the door was closed behind him, he observed an odd
look pass between Datta and his driver.The security glass rose silently
to separate them from the front compartment. It always made him feel
a little claustrophobic. The billionaire finished his call and turned to
greet him with a smile. He placed his hand on the scientist’s shoulder.
“How are you, Deepak? It’s been ages.”
The scientist responded meekly.

S 11 S

PATRICK DELANEY

“Yes, it has. Months.”
“You look tired, my friend. Is everything all right? Pentagon work-
ing you too hard again?”
He couldn’t answer that.
“Well, let’s just say that I’ve more than once found myself longing
to work again on APSARA.”
The billionaire’s manicured eyebrows raised. Like his goatee and
moustache, there was more than a twinge of gray. He pursed his lips.
A smile tugged at the edges.
“Deepak, you’re not backing out of our agreement, are you?”
Dr. Gupta waved a hand in protest.
“No, no. Of course not. You funded that project, and my career
really took off as a result. I am very happy to see my virtual hospital
program installed in the new national medical school in Malaysia.”
The billionaire smiled.
“Wonderful. And now let me give you some good news. That
phone call I just completed was with Dr. Charles Stanley.”
The scientist struggled to hide his surprise. He had just come from
a meeting with that very official in the Pentagon.
“How do you know about him?”
The billionaire smiled. The seat behind him looked immense as
the diminutive titan of oil and global transportation nestled into the
leather.
“Don’t worry, my friend. He knows I didn’t get his name from
you.”
He paused.
“We did speak of you, though. He is worried about all the stress
on you, Deepak.”
“He didn’t mention it just now.”
“That is not his way.In any case,he readily agreed to my proposition.”
“What proposition, Rasheed?”
The billionaire leaned across the armrest separating them.

S 12 S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

“Deepak, I asked permission for you to have a few weeks’ leave. I
want you to come to Kuala Lumpur and supervise the installation of
APSARA in the national medical school.”

A flash of excitement mired rapidly in a thousand concerns. He
felt torn. It was definitely tempting. Time away sounded great. And
with APSARA, his pet project. But the Pentagon…

Rasheed Datta’s voice brought him back to the present.
“I told him that you would be gone no more than three weeks,
and that you would be under my personal protection. He had some
concerns, but in the end agreed.”
Dr. Gupta sputtered a halfhearted objection.
“Perhaps I’ll have more time in a couple of months.”
The billionaire shook his head.
“Deepak, now is the time. The Pentagon has already agreed. And
besides, the ASEAN conference will be convening at the very same site
in Kuala Lumpur.Who better to show off APSARA to the world than
its creator? I’m not letting you out of this car until you agree.”
There was a pause.Then the two old friends laughed. It was settled.

The breeze that swept the curb outside the university brownstone
couldn’t hold back the falling darkness.The laboratory lights switched
on as they swiped their security cards and ascended to the second-floor
suite. Dr. Gupta watched Sammy retrieve his gym card from his desk,
apparently deciding to walk the few blocks home. Only then did the
senior scientist let himself inside his private office and lock the door.
He dropped into his chair and stared at a beautifully bound book in the
overloaded walnut case behind his desk. Tales of the Arabian Nights. It
wasn’t that one. Nearby was an inconspicuous paperback, Tales of the
Marvelous, the much older source for those same stories. For the first
time in weeks, he pulled it from between two massive tomes on arti-
ficial intelligence. It fell open, revealing a hollow cavity, empty except
for a chip of his own creation. His one true secret from the world. He

S 13 S

PATRICK DELANEY

let the chip drop gently into his palm and inspected it lovingly. Of his
many creations, this was the master stroke. The encrypted two-way
interface allowed him alone to quickly and easily manipulate the mas-
sive programs he had developed. It controlled not only APSARA, but
also Virtual Certainty, the Pentagon’s devastating command and control
program.With the imminent opening of the ASEAN summit confer-
ence, he would certainly need it to get APSARA up and running in
such a short time. He wavered. His hands trembled at the risk of car-
rying the key toVirtual Certainty outside of the United States. And to
an international hub like Kuala Lumpur. It was a big chance to take.
But there was no one he could really ask for advice. No one he trusted
that well. Even Sammy was unaware of the chip. He leaned back in
his chair and exhaled deeply. Yet his precautions were foolproof. In
all these years no one had become aware of the chip. And, he remind-
ed himself, he would be under Rasheed’s protection the entire time.
After another moment’s deliberation he carefully placed the chip into
its traveling container.

S 14 S

Chapter Five

I nnermost ring. Everything in his spacious Pentagon office was in
exactly the correct place. From the picture with the president, the
Stanford football victory rug, and right down to the expensive pens
on the desktop. Everything where it belonged. Dr. Charles Piedmont
Stanley set the office phone slowly back in its cradle. He had been
expecting the billionaire’s call, and yet something still just didn’t feel
right. Over a lifetime in intelligence, he had developed a knack for
anticipating the actions of others. So well, in fact, that now he ran the
powerful and clandestine Office for Special Projects in the Pentagon.

He looked over the notes he’d scrawled during the short call, then
shredded the page. It was an innocuous enough request, but the timing
was curious. It overlapped with the summit conference of Southeast
Asian countries. And the recent increase in Chinese submarine activ-
ity around those artificial islands they were building. He smiled. This
would have been a good problem forVirtual Certainty to analyze. But
he didn’t want to tip his hand.

He glanced at his watch, a personal gift from the Israeli prime
minister. One last call to make. He picked the phone back up and
waited for the encrypted connection. Out of habit he checked his ap-
pearance in the mirrored picture on a side table. Standing tall at the
wheel of Intrepid. In his early sixties, his perfectly cropped hair was

S 15 S

PATRICK DELANEY

already snowy white. He was tall, and a light tan covered a gaunt,
chiseled face that was deceptively free of wrinkles. His blue-gray eyes
could interrogate others like a searchlight. He liked what he saw.

The other end picked up. His tone with his field agent was profes-
sional, warm, and encrypted.

“How are you, Mani? Cover in place? Good. Good. Hmm?”
The other voice was melodic and pleasing.
“No, nothing new here. Same old Beltway shenanigans. How long
since you’ve been back here? Well, after this business is complete, I
think it’s time to reintroduce yourself into the right circles here.”
She would like that, he was certain.
“Listen, the scientist I told you about is leaving D.C. tomorrow
morning. No, there is no flight number. He’ll be aboard the private jet
of Tan Sri Rasheed Datta.What? No, he should have plenty of protec-
tion, but you never know what our old friendTan Sri has up his sleeve.
Keep an eye on them both as best you can, and see what you can find
out about that other matter. And Mani, take care of yourself.”
The line went dead and he replaced the phone before leaning back
in his chair. He thought it through one more time.The scientist would
be out of the country and exposed, but the billionaire’s security should
be as good as their own. Something was brewing out there. He could
feel it.And Mani had always been a good agent. Early on he had identi-
fied her as a potential protégé. Aggressive, smart, and with a subtlety
that was rare. And the bombshell good looks were disarming, if not
outright distracting. He stood up and paced the length of the room,
turning at his beloved Stanford floor rug. Cardinal red. He contem-
plated a call to another agent, but quickly decided against it. Merlin
wouldn’t need any help.

S 16 S

Chapter Six

S ammy Mahmud exited the Metro at Minnesota Avenue with a
handful of other riders and headed north on foot. He fingered his
lucky poker chip, which was securely wedged into his trouser pocket.
He enjoyed this stretch of the walk home.Tonight it was taking longer
to pace off the frustration. Deepak Gupta was a programming genius,
no doubt about it. But he couldn’t afford to be so naive with these
government types. He’ll come around to my way of thinking.

Autumn leaves skittered unseen across the pavement, carried by
intermittent gusts that offered a refreshing chill. Past the old Baptist
church he headed east, cutting through the recreation center and
down Ninth toward his small apartment. It was pitch black now, but
the sound of dribbling brought a familiar feel. He had grown up play-
ing basketball on those very same courts. Didn’t get much exercise
these days, though. His mind wandered back over the argument with
his one-time professor. He didn’t trust the government a stitch, but he
did trust his boss and mentor to do what was right.And that billionaire
friend of his didn’t smell right, either. Not that he minded riding in the
front of the limo, but that white dude was a cold dead fish. Another
gust kicked up his hair. It fluttered momentarily before settling back
on his shoulders. He zipped up his windbreaker against the coolness
and cut behind the gas station at a brisk pace. He patted his pocket.

S 17 S

PATRICK DELANEY

Yup, the chip was right where it should be. And now three weeks off.
Sweet. Take me right up to the holidays. And Mo was just starting with
training wheels. Almost there. He turned into the alley, avoiding the
garbage cans he knew would be set out for pickup.

The crushing pain at the back of his head was instantaneous, and
dropped him to his knees. He would have fallen forward, but the
leather-gloved hand that covered his mouth held him upright. Smelled
like polish. A new, sharp jab between his ribs. His thoughts reeled.
Someone’s attacking me. His legs didn’t respond to his urge to run.
Another sharp stab. And another. Now he couldn’t inhale. Just a gur-
gling sound. His mind was woozy and the traffic sounds became dis-
tant. He felt his body go limp. His thoughts flickered to Mo, waiting
for him.A last hot, jagged streak across his throat.The blackness of the
alley became complete.

S 18 S

Chapter Seven

“M ust’ve been a real bad-ass medical school.”
The scent of jasmine lingered as a finger softly traced the
tattoo on his forearm. Semper Lethalis.

“It was. But the tattoo is from the United States Marine Corps.”
His gaze drifted up the lovely bare arm. Smooth, cinnamon skin in
a sleeveless red blouse led to an attractive neckline. Arrestingly dark
eyes flashed from delicate Indian features. The beginnings of a smile
played on the full lips. He went with it.
“Medical schools usually stamp the tattoo on the back of the brain.”
The lips broadened into a smile.
“That was an excellent presentation, Dr. Jenson.”
“Are you a student here?”
“No. My name is Manisha Bharat.”
He gently took up the manicured hand she proffered.The grip was
solid.
“I’m in Malaysia covering the ASEAN Medical Summit for NewYork
Health magazine. I didn’t know there was a medical school below the
convention center until just now.”
Jenson nodded wordlessly. It was her.The same arrestingly beauti-
ful woman he’d glimpsed in the crowd two nights ago. Long, black hair
framed high, firm cheekbones and a smooth, almond complexion.The

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lovely face tapered to a perfectly set chin and a flash of white teeth.
The smile hinted at mischief below the active, enchantingly dark eyes.
He forced himself back to the conversation.

“That makes two of us. It’s the new national medical school of
Malaysia. Just opened.”

“Ah, Sekoloh Perbutan Negara. So it’s here. I would love to find
out more.”

The students who had been clustered around him began to drift
away. He seized the opportunity.

“If you care to get some fresh air, I’m to meet my host in a few
minutes.”

“That would be fantastic. May I ask whom you’re meeting?”
“Tan Sri Rasheed Datta. I’m not sure if Tan Sri is his name or a
title.”
Her beautiful dark eyes widened as she laughed. He had once seen
black star sapphires from Thailand, and surely the gems would have
paled in comparison.
“Oh, definitely a title. There are only a handful of men with the
title of Tan Sri in the entire country.Your friend is a multibillionaire
who sits on the boards of some of the largest banks in the world.”
An escalator took them back up to the convention level. They
pressed through the crowded grand foyer. Jenson was perspiring,
and glad to have the humidity to blame. The equatorial heat poured
in through the glass walls and open doors, reaching them well before
they arrived at the entrance. His tie threatened to suffocate him.
When he’d arrived earlier that morning, Matt Jenson was certain
he’d been delivered here in error. The convention center was a solid
forty-five minutes from downtown Kuala Lumpur, smack in the middle
of a vast agricultural reserve. Interesting planning, he thought.And yet,
today it was a packed house.The pagoda-shaped complex was built into
a hill, its presence announced by a bright azure roof that stood out for
miles. The expansive public parking areas were jammed with cars and

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busses. Knots of visitors clustered at high-tech displays ranging from
the latest in laser imaging to artificial intelligence for hospital care, and
drones to carry on the menial work of a modern medical center. Sekoloh
Perbutan Negara was housed one level below the main auditorium, with
the vast majority of visitors seemingly unaware of its presence.

“Dr. Jenson?”
The polished male voice carried the local accent.A short, slender
man in his fifties emerged from the crowd. His carefully manicured
moustache and v-shaped goatee were both beginning to gray, and
stood out against the dark skin. The three-piece suit was perfectly
tailored and stood in sharp contrast to a veritable sea of polo shirts
and shorts. Immediately behind him was a ruddy-faced Caucasian
giant with angular features and a bad haircut. An ill-fitting black suit
bulged under the left arm with what Jenson guessed was a holstered
SIG Sauer. Probably ex-SAS. The trailing bodyguard towered over
his employer, eyeing the doctor suspiciously. Jenson didn’t blink.
“That would be me. Matt Jenson.”
He stepped closer and extended his hand.The smaller man smiled
beneath the thin moustache and reciprocated.
“A great pleasure to meet you, Dr. Jenson. Dr. Sibley spoke very
highly of you.Welcome to Malaysia.”
“I appreciate the invitation.”
A light brush of Jenson’s arm was accompanied by the subtle fra-
grance of jasmine. He felt her eyes on him.
Tan Sri Datta’s eyes shifted attentively to Manisha Bharat.
“And who would this be?”
“Gentlemen, this is Ms. Manisha Bharat of NewYork Health maga-
zine. She is quite interested in the new medical school as well.”
The small, dapper billionaire smiled urbanely, his eyes eagerly tak-
ing her in. He took her hand in his.
“I am Tan Sri Rasheed Datta, one of the principal funders of both
this conference and the new national medical school.”

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PATRICK DELANEY

“A pleasure.”
Tan Sri Datta glanced back to Jenson, following his eyes to the big
man. He gestured dismissively.
“This is Hansen.”
He paused.
“I am most grateful that you accepted the invitation to attend, Dr.
Jenson.”
Jenson tilted his head forward in a slight bow.
“You have my thanks,Tan Sri. Kuala Lumpur is quite a remarkable
place. Am I correct in suspecting that there is a reason for the invita-
tion, other than simply lecturing to the faculty and students?”
The billionaire’s smile widened.
“Indeed. I am hoping to pique your interest in our revolutionary
training simulations. We’ve spared no expense in creating a virtual
hospital environment that is truly cutting edge.Your expertise in trau-
ma makes your opinion invaluable.”
Jenson contemplated the placid face. Just how much did this man
know of his past? The billionaire turned to face Manisha Bharat.
“Your timing is indeed excellent, Ms. Bharat. It would be our plea-
sure if you would accompany us downstairs for a brief tour.”
“Fantastic.Thank you.”
A security desk had been set up in front of the elevators to dis-
courage the curious. Dr. Jenson had come this way to the lecture
hall earlier. Two elderly men in white shirts and black baseball caps
sat impassively at their station until Tan Sri Datta and his entourage
emerged from the crowd.The two sprang to attention and escorted
the group quickly into the lift. One floor down, they were greeted
by large glass signs that proudly announced their location:

Sekoloh Perbutan Negara Malaysia
National Medical School of Malaysia

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Selamat Datang
Welcome

Beyond the prominent white lettering was a cavernous space that
took up the entire level. Lights blinked on automatically at their ap-
proach. The lecture hall he had just used was down a hallway that
veered sharply off to their left. At the far end of the level were sleek,
new offices and meeting rooms, all bristling with whiteboards, PCs,
and the latest electronic gadgets. The high-tech opulence was pres-
ently devoid of any occupants.

“This level is the main floor of the medical school, or SPN, as we
call it. Classrooms, study areas, and faculty offices.”

The billionaire gestured about approvingly as he spoke.
“Now, please allow me to introduce you to the two men most
responsible for all of this, and then we shall move down to the secure
areas.”
Jenson stole a sideways glance at Manisha Bharat. Cool and com-
fortable, she moved with an easy, athletic grace. Ruby-red designer
sandals accented her outfit. She caught his look with a demure smile
as she kept pace with the short, rapid strides of their host.The rud-
dy-complexioned hulk of Hansen, the bodyguard, loomed behind
them.
Tan Sri Datta led them across the thickly carpeted lobby and down
a long hallway between more glass-walled study rooms. Automatic
lighting heralded their approach, and darkness trailed with equal ef-
ficiency. Around a corner appeared two figures in a distant office. As
the group neared, the men turned from admiring a ceremonial clock.
The older of the two was tall and gaunt, his shirt open at the throat
and covered by a comfortable sport coat.Tan Sri Datta introduced him
with a theatrical flourish of his arm.
“This is Dr. Kapul Ramineni, dean of the medical school.” The
group was introduced in turn. Without missing a beat, the dean

S 23 S

PATRICK DELANEY

immediately launched into a dry, staccato history of the school.Tan Sri
Datta wasn’t having any of that.

“Let’s save that for a later moment, shall we, Dean? I want to intro-
duce our guests to Dr. Gupta.”The latter looked like a scientist. Short
and heavy set, with thickly rimmed glasses and a small dark moustache
framing a large, parrot-like nose.

“Dr. Deepak Gupta is the creator of APSARA, the artificial intel-
ligence program behind our virtual hospital.”

The scientist nodded modestly. Earnest brown eyes scanned each
of them intently from behind the thick glasses.

“Please, call me Deepak.”
“Have you been here long, Dr. Gupta?” Manisha Bharat asked.
He stared questioningly at her.
“You look a little jet-lagged,” she added quickly.
“Yes.” He nodded. “It was a long flight from the States.”
Tan Sri Datta ushered them past more guards to a second lift.
Key-activated, with cameras. It was a tight fit for the entourage, and
Manisha Bharat pressed snugly into Jenson. Jasmine was becoming his
favorite smell. He forced his attention back to the billionaire.
“This is a lot of security for the school. Is this for the ASEAN
Medical Summit?”
“No, this level of protection is continuous.You’ll see why in a mo-
ment. For the duration of the convention, we have also locked the
stairwells from the inside. This keyed lift is presently the only access
to this floor.”
“Let us hope there isn’t a fire,” the dean added dryly.
The elevator door opened noiselessly and they stepped out into a
hospital waiting room. An elderly man in an orange batik shirt sat in
the near corner coughing and wheezing. His overweight wife sat next
to him thumbing through Vogue. Dr. Gupta led the group toward the
front of the room.Tan Sri Datta paused dramatically.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Kuala Lumpur Virtual

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Hospital. Or ‘KLVirtual’ as the students call it.You are about to expe-
rience the world’s most sophisticated virtual training. State-of-the-art,
seamless simulation integrated by APSARA. A quantum leap forward
in artificial intelligence.”

A businesslike Dr. Gupta took up the narrative.
“The anteroom in which we stand is actually an area for the stu-
dents and faculty to congregate. All of the rooms on this floor are
AI integrated, with some designated for additional specific uses, and
others adaptable. As you are no doubt aware, most ‘virtual hospitals’
generally consist of a sham ward or perhaps a clinic, filled with either
manikins or actors portraying simulated patients. They also will have
some telemetry and some sort of electronic medical record. At ap-
pointed times, the play is enacted for the trainees, who presumably
learn how a hospital operates.”
Dr. Jenson peered down a long corridor. It sure looked like a hos-
pital. Overhead signs indicated an emergency room, blood bank, x-
ray, and lab. Dr. Gupta continued his narrative.
“APSARA is light-years ahead of that old model.There are no ac-
tors and the systems are self-operating. Entering any area of the hos-
pital activates holographic hospital staff, doctors, nurses, and patients
that respond interactively with the trainee.The scenarios are linked to
corresponding telemetry changes, lab indices, radiology images, and
all of the information sources a clinician might access.”
Dr. Jenson’s cell phone began vibrating. He fished it out of his
pocket. A text warned of a trauma admission arriving in three min-
utes. He looked up to see Dr. Gupta smiling.
“Yes.APSARA even places data on the trainee’s cell phone, such as
stat pages and so forth.”
Their guide opened the laboratory door and ushered them in. A
middle-aged Chinese woman in a white lab coat sat at the counter,
facing out toward a small waiting room. She turned to them and
smiled.

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PATRICK DELANEY

“Selamat tengah hari. A good afternoon to each of you. May I help
you with something?”

Dr. Gupta ignored her entirely and pointed to some equipment
partially visible through a side door.

“I’m particularly proud of this room.Although it is a simulated lab,
the apparatus you see is a 3D printer for making human organs and
tissues, which are then used elsewhere in the hospital.”

Manisha Bharat brushed past Dr. Jenson and stopped in front of
the clerk. Her gracefully arched fingers passed slowly through the
Chinese woman until she touched the counter.The clerk smiled bland-
ly back at her.

“So, this woman isn’t real?” Manisha asked in disbelief.
“Just a very sophisticated hologram, like the couple in the lobby.”
Dr. Gupta beamed at her like a proud parent.
“It’s the power of theAI. Come, let’s step into the operating room.”

“He’s tubed, prepped, and ready to rock, Doc.”
The stern brown eyes behind the blue surgical mask immediately
turned back to the heavily draped figure on the stainless steel table.
Bright light from above bathed every millimeter of the room, leav-
ing no shadows. The ventilator hissed rhythmically from the other
side of the table, and fluctuating vital signs flashed rapidly across the
telemetry.
“On your left. Everyone scrubbed in?” A small feminine form in a
paper spacesuit zipped across Dr. Jenson’s path, rolling a stainless steel
cart laden with instruments. Each of the half dozen other people in
the room remained intently focused on their own tasks. The surgical
assistant glanced back to Jenson.
“What do you want to do, Doc?”
Dr. Jenson stepped cautiously up to the table. An anesthesi-
ologist sat near the head of the table, noiselessly adjusting some
tape that secured a breathing tube. The smell of antiseptic scrub

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permeated the room. Jenson pressed in next to the brown-eyed
surgical assistant.

“Hey, careful.You’ll break the sterile field.”
The nurse glared at Jenson. Dr. Gupta’s voice chipped in from
behind.
“As you can see, the APSARA program creates very real characters
in the suite, so that you can test a single individual or an entire team. In
fact, the only real individual in this room is Vijay, our technician, who
is disguised as the anesthesiologist.”
The figure adjusting the tubing rose and stepped away from the pa-
tient. As he neared the group, the holographic features faded and dis-
appeared. A large man with Coke-bottle-thick, black-rimmed glasses
nodded and gave them a meek wave of his hand.
Dr. Jenson was impressed. His own reflection in the stainless steel
surgical tray was that of a surgeon, fully gowned and masked.Time for
a test. He stretched out a hand, passing it through the gowned assistant
next to him until it made hard contact with the metal table.
“Darn it! You’ll need to scrub back up.” He ignored the directive
and stuck his hand into the bloody surgical incision. Nothing.
“You’d better step back from the table and begin again.”The firm,
feminine voice came from a masked nurse standing on his other side.
“I think you can see the possibilities,”Tan Sri Datta said from some-
where behind him.
“This is remarkable,” Dr. Jenson responded. “Particularly with
that 3D printer in the other room.You can manufacture surgical and
trauma specimens for the scenario, without putting any patients at
risk.”
“Precisely.That machine is one of the reasons for the high security.
Can you imagine someone using the printer to manufacture organs for
transplant over in China, or elsewhere?”
Jenson nodded wordlessly.Yes, he could.
Tan Sri Datta chose that moment to nudge up uncomfortably close

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PATRICK DELANEY

to Manisha Bharat. Jenson felt a protective twinge flare up.The young
woman turned smoothly toward Dr. Gupta.

“Dr. Gupta, may I ask why you named the program APSARA? I’m
sure our readers will want to know.”

Tan Sri Datta answered before the scientist could respond.
“An apsara is a mythical dancer of great beauty, Ms. Bharat. Like
yourself. They are somewhat like the Greek muses in their ability to
captivate men.”
Dr. Gupta intervened.
“All true, but not actually the reason for the name.”
He shifted his feet uncomfortably, lowering his face as he spoke.
“My mother would sometimes tell us of a time when we were
young. When she was taking care of all three of us children. She was
quite young herself, and inexperienced at parenting. One night she
had put us all to sleep and collapsed into her bed in exhaustion. She
was awakened during the night by the rustling of expensive satin.”
He glanced nervously around the room, gauging his audience be-
fore deciding to continue.
“To her last, my mother described seeing a beautiful woman in
fine dress appear at her bedroom door that night.The woman’s pres-
ence produced no sense of fear in my mother.The woman said to her,
‘Come quickly, and follow me.’ She led the way to where the children
were sleeping. One was quite feverish and ill. My mother grabbed the
child up and rushed to the hospital. The doctor on duty pointed to a
red line moving up the child’s arm, and told her that had it reached
the heart, the baby would have died. As it was, the child survived.
My mother always referred to the mystery woman as ‘the beautiful
apsara.’”
The room had fallen into silence. Manisha Bharat’s question came
as a whisper.
“Dr. Gupta, was that baby you?”
His eyes misted.Then he nodded.

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“I suppose I’ve always wanted to give something back to medi-
cine, but never really had what it took to enter the profession myself.
Designing this program and then naming it for the apsara has brought
me considerable fulfillment.”

Manisha Bharat gently placed her hand on his arm.
“Thank you, Dr. Gupta. It’s a very touching story.”
“Please, call me Deepak.”

S 29 S

Chapter Eight

T he cloud-laden sky turned crimson at sunset, deepening the shad-
ows amidst the flora of the agricultural reserve. Matt Jenson had
been invited back the next day to work through some trauma simula-
tions with Dr. Gupta. Manisha Bharat’s status wasn’t clear. She shared
the long teksi ride back to the Cathay Premier Hotel with him. The
cab was a freezer inside, the air-conditioning blasting noisily. It was a
welcome respite from the steamy heat outside.

“Dammit, watch out!”
Their Malaysian driver had once worked at a Cadillac plant in New
York, and practiced his English by swearing at the cars around them.
Once out on the busy Jalan Raya, the traffic got heavy. The cabby
settled down to negotiating his way through the tangled mayhem in
relative silence. Manisha Bharat turned her attention and lovely brown
eyes to Jenson.
“Thanks for getting me in to see the school, Dr. Jenson. It was
amazing.”
“The name’s Matt.And you can make it up to me by buying dinner.”
She laughed.
“All right, but I think I’ll still come out ahead. Been to Jalan Alor?”
“No.What is it?”
“You’ll see.”

S 30 S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

It was dark when they arrived. Red lanterns strung above the
packed streets dazzled the eyes.A crowd of mostly expats and tourists
milled amongst the drifting aromas of grilling fish, satay, coconut oil,
and Indian curries. Hawkers aggressively pushed everything. Durian,
selfie sticks, ice cream, and more. Beggars with boom boxes lip synced
for spare change. Flavors of barbecued Chinese seafood, Thai peanut
sauce, and nasi lemak saturated the night air.

“If you’re really hungry, we might be able to push the bill up to
forty ringgits.That’s about ten dollars.”

Jenson laughed.
“I guess a cozy French restaurant will have to wait for another day.”
“Everyone calls me Mani, by the way. Except my parents.”
The grilled stingray was served in a spicy black sauce. It washed
down well with a Chinese beer. The lively, chaotic night scene was
many things. It wasn’t conducive to an intimate conversation as he
had been hoping. An English major atYale. Played some tennis. Maybe
it was just the noise level. But he sensed her guard was up, too. And
she was certainly clear about tagging along tomorrow. Was he being
played? They went their separate ways after dinner. Jack would laugh
at him for being so paranoid.
He caught the slow-moving monorail back to his hotel. He ex-
ited at Bukit Nanas, nearly across the street from the Cathay Premier.
There were crowds everywhere. Here it was tourists and locals alike,
flocking to the fashionable clubs as night brought a dip in the oppres-
sive heat. Out of habit, Jenson ducked into a convenience store and
checked out some sunglasses. Maybe he was just getting paranoid. He
scanned the reflected image for a tail. Maybe one. Almost everyone in
the crowd wore shorts and sandals, except a male in his forties who
was wearing hard shoes and empty-handed. Definitely not a shopper.
Jenson left the shop and headed back toward the train station. An
escalator rose to the elevated walkway that led over the busy car traf-
fic. A bright green plastic tube protected the path from the rain. He

S 31 S

PATRICK DELANEY

felt like a fish in a barrel. Jenson passed through the LRT station and
descended the walkway on the far side.The hot, moist air was oppres-
sive, and he finally loosened his tie and stuffed it into a pocket. He
strode briskly down the sidewalk alongside the cars. Just past a timber
company on the right was the dimly lit entrance of a rainforest pre-
serve in the middle of the city. He hopped the fence and disappeared
into the trees and darkness.

He lingered silently in the trees. His training before medicine had
been marine recon.The smell of vegetation and soil came to him. Sweat
trickled down his shirt.The sounds of the forest came back alive. It felt
good. Just like old times, with Eyeball and the rest of the team.

Except that this time he was unarmed. He slowed his breathing
down as he had been taught, and waited. A chain-link fence creaked
somewhere below him on the slope. Good. Hard Shoes had followed
him in. He concentrated on his task. No silhouette. No sound. Pay
attention to the footing. Slowly he circled back behind his man. The
main walking path wound through the vegetation to the massive and
brightly lit KL Tower. His patience was rewarded with the silhouette
of his quarry as the latter crested the trail. Jenson retreated back down
to the entrance and up into the busy LRT station. A bottleneck. He
loitered behind a tile column where a group of teenagers were smok-
ing. He feigned at play with his iPhone as he watched the entrance.
After twenty minutes Hard Shoes returned, retracing his route. Now
it was he looking for a tail. Jenson cautiously followed him outside.
The patchy lighting on the streets was perfect for surveillance. If only
he had his old team back to help him. Hard Shoes was being careful,
weaving in and out of shops, crossing back and forth through the con-
gested traffic, and checking his six regularly. Jenson kept to the dark
patches, avoiding the flickering brightness of the wall-sized electronic
advertisements that seemed to be everywhere. He stayed discreetly
back, but in sight. He was burning to know why someone would both-
er following him here.

S 32 S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

After another twenty minutes of cat and mouse, Hard Shoes re-
turned, catching the LRT toward the glittering Petronas Towers.
Jenson had to hustle to catch the last of the four cars. No seats left. He
pressed in next to a large Malay woman in a loud print sundress. He
slumped forward as best he could to hide his big frame.When the au-
tomatic doors finally opened, Hard Shoes made a beeline for the mas-
sive, upscale KLCC mall in the base of the towers. He dialed a number
on his cell phone as he strode briskly out toward some kiosks in the
middle of the ground floor. Apparently liked chocolates. Or Hard
Shoes had a buddy watching from the next level. Jenson instinctively
hung back, then circled toward another entrance off to his right. A
buzz of shoppers congested every available nook and cranny. He risked
losing his man in the thick crowd. Jenson scanned back along the glass
railing above the LRT entrance.There she was. Manisha Bharat leaned
against the railing, still lovely in the sleeveless red blouse that was now
covered with a translucent gold wrap.And talking on her Samsung. He
melted further back into the crowd.What was going on? He glanced
back to the chocolate kiosk. Hard Shoes had disappeared from view.

Better to find out here than drag it out. He took the escalator steps
two at a time up to her level. He hugged the storefronts until he caught
sight of her in front of an indoor aquarium. Two strides from her, he
suddenly veered off. Something had caught his eye. He stepped into a
watch outlet and looked out through the display window toward her.
Ten meters beyond her was a muscular Chinese man in a sport coat.
He was making a poor show of flipping through a flyer of some sort
as he chatted on his Bluetooth. Jenson watched him reach for a cell
phone. A subtle but unmistakable bulge from a holster under his arm.

Was Sport Coat with Manisha Bharat, or surveilling her? No sense
confronting her now.With any luck, a few minutes more surveillance
might provide the answer. He decided to look at some watches.

Manisha Bharat chose that moment to turn and glide elegantly to-
ward him. She hadn’t spotted him yet. He knelt quickly and belabored

S 33 S

PATRICK DELANEY

retying his black dress shoes.They were caked with mud. She was close
enough now that snatches of her phone conversation reached him.

“Dead? How horrible.Yes, I’ve made contact with both…”
Once she was past the store, he exited out into the crowd. She was
leaving the mall. He started to follow her, but whatever was going on
with the others must have just ended. He spied Sport Coat heading
toward the parking structure and sprinted to catch up. The mall was
packed, even at this time of night. Jenson made it to the exit, only
to find a bank of elevators, all traveling to different levels. Dammit!
Nothing to show for all the night’s effort. Except more suspicions.
Dr. Jenson spun on his heel and disappeared into the crush of late
night shoppers. He motored angrily back to the LRT station. Mad
mostly at himself for losing his man. But why did he care? There was
nothing for them to gain by shadowing him. Or was it injured pride,
knowing that Manisha’s interest was feigned? He couldn’t answer his
own question. He stood rigidly at the edge of the pavement as the
next train approached. It grated to a stop in front of him and the doors
swooshed open. He wasn’t the romantic type, so what was so bad
about letting a beautiful woman try to play him? He dropped into a
white plastic seat that faced the window. His reflection stared back at
him. His short blond hair was graying at the sides, and a rugged nose
was the prize for four years of college water polo.Two pretty Chinese
girls with nice legs and tight dresses boarded the train car just as the
doors closed. They both smiled when he stood up to offer them his
seat. He exhaled deeply and returned the smile.

S 34 S

Chapter Nine

M anisha Bharat sat in a vacant corner of the hotel sky lounge.
A bottle of wine and two glasses were parked in front of her,
a decoy against pickup artists. The loud music booming from the
other end of the room made it unlikely anyone could eavesdrop. She
checked her watch. It was thirteen hours earlier in D.C. Dr. Stanley
should be just starting to think about his lunch. She had a healthy re-
spect for the old spymaster. He was in the inner circle of every inner
circle in Washington, and had more foreign contacts than the State
Department. He was smooth, discreet, and powerful, with an unseen
hand in everything that was big. True, he had come out of academia
with a knowledge of strategic political theory. She was just a field op-
erative. But gaining ground fast.

“How are you, my dear?Your interrupted call earlier worried me.”
She had started to check in earlier at the mall, but terminated it
when Johnny returned unexpectedly early.
“I’m fine. It was very loud, and I had the feeling I was being
watched. Can you tell me more about the assistant?”
“No. Never came home from work. Reported missing by his wife
last night. I’ll keep you updated. Any progress on your end?”
“Yes. I spent the day with both of our interests. And at the new
medical school.”

S 35 S

PATRICK DELANEY

She waited to see if he would take the bait, knowing that he
wouldn’t.

“How did you get in?”
“With the help of a visiting American physician. Can you get me
his background? His name is Dr. Matthew Jenson. A trauma surgeon
and ex-marine. Know him?”
“No, but perhaps I should. I’ll send you the scoop by the usual
means. Anything else?”
“The security for Dr. Gupta appears adequate. Curiously, he ap-
parently designed the AI for the virtual hospital here.”
Dr. Stanley cut her off. Encrypted line or not, this was too sensitive.
“Let’s leave that for another time, shall we? Remember, Dr. Gupta’s
safety is the top priority. But do keep an eye on this young doctor of
yours.”
“Of course. Until next time.”
She hit the end button and smiled. From across the lounge a young
man caught her eye and smiled back. She ignored him and sipped from
her wineglass, clinking it against the other for emphasis.

S 36 S

Chapter Ten

T his time he awoke without poetry, to the beeping of his watch
alarm. He felt sluggish and a little disoriented. Probably the six-
teen-hour time change. Hot coffee helped. The blur of events from
the previous night flooded back into his head. Beautiful women hadn’t
been part of training in the Marines. His eyes drifted to the other
empty bed. No doubt Superman was out exercising. He shaved quickly
and then dressed, foregoing the tie. Debriding his muddy shoes took a
couple extra minutes.

The hotel room door opened just as he was reaching for the han-
dle. Jack stepped past him, looking relaxed in T-shirt and shorts. He
cuffed Matt’s shoulder as he entered.

“Bitchin’ Olympic-size pool on the sixth floor. Workout room is
pretty nice, too.”

Matt Jenson nodded his head.
“I’d love to work the kinks out. But the driver should be down-
stairs in five minutes.”
“So how’d it go yesterday?”
“The school is beyond space age. And as a bonus, that beauty we
saw the first night was there, too.”
Jack grinned. He flopped down in a chair, tossing his wet towel
onto the bed.

S 37 S

PATRICK DELANEY

“Did you connect?”
“We had dinner. Not quite sure where it’s headed though.”
He suddenly felt an intense desire to change the subject.
“Listen, Jack, I’m feeling a little guilty leaving you on your own,
not only yesterday but today, too. Sorry, brother.”
Jack waved him off.
“It’s all good, man. Once you’re clear of the work we’ll start the
real vacation. Besides, I hooked up with an old racing buddy who grew
up here. He’s gonna show me around town today, and we’re planning
on a long bike ride out to the coast tomorrow.You’re invited, too. Can
your bum knee and PTSD handle it?”
Matt leaned against the door.
“Just what the doctor ordered.Who’s your friend?”
“Abhi. His last name is four syllables and twenty letters. Did the
Hawaiian Ironman with me a couple years ago.”
Matt checked his watch.Time to go.
“I’ve gotta blow. Dinner tonight?”
“Great. And bring your new girlfriend.”

He made it to the lobby ahead of schedule, butTan Sri Datta’s lo-
cal driver was already waiting beside an immaculately clean Bentley
sedan. Manisha Bharat arrived uninvited, slipping into the limousine
just as it pulled away. The car sped silently through the stiffening
morning traffic on the Lebuhraya, the federal highway leading south
out of the city. Uncomfortably silent. Jenson offered nothing about
the previous evening. He gazed out beyond the roadside businesses
visible from the limousine window. The sun had risen with a crim-
son splash over the rows of palm oil trees. The now orange blaze
fueled the heat and humidity already building. The ASEAN Medical
Summit opened midmorning, with visitors and companies from ev-
ery corner of the globe. The agricultural reserve baked under a sun
now obscured by choking, fog-like smoke that had drifted across the

S 38 S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

Malacca Strait from fires raging somewhere in Indonesia. No day to
be outside.

Armed with an SPN ID badge, Dr. Jenson spent a couple of hours
meandering the air-conditioned exhibit halls. He stopped before a ste-
reotactic surgery display, but his mind was on Manisha. She lingered
at a kiosk a few feet away, sharp and professional in form-fitting dark
slacks and blouse. She was very attractive.And he had enjoyed the din-
ner with her. But what had come after that could only mean trouble.
All he really knew was that he was under surveillance, and that she was
using him to get in here. But who wanted him watched? And whose
side was Manisha on? Hell, it was only a medical school after all. And
he had nothing to hide. He watched her press through the crowd until
she was at his elbow.

“Anything of interest?” she asked.
He shrugged indifferently. “You?”
She had been listening to a pitch about automated quality control
procedures. Her face said it all. He fought back the blunt questions
that tore at him. He burned to know what all the cloak and dagger was
about. Maybe he’d ask her somewhere more private.
“Thought I’d see where this badge will get me downstairs.”
She flipped her long black hair over her shoulder and beamed.
“Fantastic idea. Let’s go.”
It was a Saturday, and only a few students were around on the
medical school level. Dr. Jenson and his companion drifted through
a library, computer labs, and some study rooms. Everything was new
and state-of-the-art.
“There’s definitely some money invested in this school. I suppose
it’s Tan Sri Datta’s.”
“Don’t be too sure,” she responded. “There’s got to be politics be-
hind launching the national medical school, particularly in a country
that has forty or so schools already. I’ll bet there’s a good chunk of
government money in this project.The real question is why.”

S 39 S

PATRICK DELANEY

Dean Ramineni’s tall, gaunt figure suddenly materialized like a
wraith from one of the offices. A polite smile appeared, followed by
his nasal voice.

“Ah, here you are. Welcome, welcome. Dr. Gupta and Tan Sri
Datta are already working in the trauma bay of the virtual emergency
department. Please, let me escort the two of you down.”

They passed quickly through the security and into the elevator.
Manisha fingered the “P” on the control panel.

“What’s below the school?”
“It is an underground parking area that opens out behind the hill-
side. So the students and visitors can arrive more comfortably during
the rainy season. It’s closed today.”
They exited the elevator and passed through the hospital lobby
into a small room that featured a wall-sized one-way mirror.
“Each of these hospital areas has an adjoining observation room,
from which the faculty can monitor the trainees’ performance in the
clinical scenario,” the dean explained. “We shall wait here until they
reach a convenient pause in their work.”
The view through the glass was riveting. Like a haunted mansion,
Jenson thought. Hospital personnel and patients eerily appeared and
disappeared at Dr. Gupta’s command. APSARA rapidly adapted to
each change in the clinical scenario he was creating, heightening the
reality with each iteration. Finally, the scientist seemed satisfied with
the scene.The dean beckoned them into the room.
Inside the trauma bay, Dr. Gupta and Tan Sri Datta were now oth-
erwise alone, the holograms dismissed.The scientist greeted them.
“Welcome back, Dr. Jenson and Ms. Bharat. It is nice to see you
again. I’ve taken the liberty of turning off the program momentarily to
help you orient. For confidentiality during training, live persons inside
the simulation are given holographic features.While you are certainly
no longer novices, it can be disconcerting to find that you are convers-
ing with a hologram and not me, or vice versa.”

S 40 S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

“Ah, that explains a lot,” Dr. Jenson said. “Yesterday my own re-
flection was that of a gowned surgeon. By the way, I find the nuance al-
terations you just made fascinating.APSARA can adapt that seamlessly
to trainees of different experience levels?Third-year medical students
for instance, rather than faculty?”

Dr. Gupta smiled.
“Precisely.And this is why we appreciate your help.We have medi-
cal students and teachers here, but no trauma surgeons of your caliber.”
“I’d be delighted to help. It looks like it should be a snap with
APSARA.”
The scenario was progressively built into a complex mass casualty
event. It was all too easy for Dr. Jenson to draw on recent events for
inspiration. After several hours of work, the multiple trauma victims
from the jet liner crash were nearly stabilized.The pandemonium had
gradually subsided to a more routine level of intensity. Small teams now
managed each patient, and were in turn coordinated by Dr. Jenson.
Manisha remained transfixed at his elbow as he guided APSARA re-
peatedly through the scenario. Each virtual crash victim had their own
history, injuries, intervention, and then complications. He was creat-
ing the gold standard for all of APSARA’s future disaster management
sessions.The dean and Tan Sri Datta sat quietly next to one of the pa-
tients, the hologram program rendering them as concerned family of
the victim. Sitting in his now usual spot at the computer console, Dr.
Gupta looked to be an anesthesiologist hard at work.
The din of the busy ER was punctured by the sudden crack of gun-
shots from outside. Dr. Gupta froze the simulation, and for a moment
there was silence. Then shouts in the hallway. A door slammed. The
twin ER doors flew open, revealing a masked man brandishing a pis-
tol. Jenson yanked Dr. Gupta down behind a ventilator, but not before
the other man restarted the simulation. The room was again a whirl-
ing, crowded ER. The intruder froze in confusion. After a moment’s
indecision he slammed back out, the doors swinging shut behind him.

S 41 S

PATRICK DELANEY

The holograms continued their scenario.A few seconds later the lights
flickered, and the holograms suddenly evaporated. The room went
still. Heads began to pop cautiously up around the room. More gun-
shots rang out. Jenson counted four, from two different caliber pistols.
The five real occupants of the room flattened back under cover.Then
silence.

The ER doors crashed open a second time.The hulk of Hansen the
bodyguard charged into the room, pistol extended with both hands in
a shooter’s grip. He took up a kneeling position facing the door, gasp-
ing from his exertions. He scanned the room, the barrel of the black
polymer SIG Sauer P716 tracking with his eyes.

“Are you all right,Tan Sri?” he shouted hoarsely over his shoulder.
A shaken voice came from under one of the trauma gurneys.
“Yes.The five of us are unhurt.What the devil is going on?”
The big man’s face was ruddy as he struggled to catch his breath.
His response came in short, staccato British gasps.
“Someone took out the guard at the lift.At least one intruder. I saw
him coming out of the laboratory and chased him. Got off two rounds,
but missed him. He bolted down the stairwell where a car was waiting.
We should have that part on surveillance tapes. Police are rolling.”
“I thought the stairwells had all been locked?”
“Only from the outside.You know, in case of a fire. He couldn’t
have gotten in that way, but once inside it made for a quick getaway.”
They cautiously arose from their hiding places. Doctor Jenson’s
trained eyes gauged each of them closely. Manisha looked unhurt.The
dean was still seated on the floor, eyes glazed. Dr. Gupta was also
clearly rattled, his knees still half bent and hands nervously fumbling
at the cart in front of him. The shorter Tan Sri Datta looked surpris-
ingly calm as he straightened his expensive suit. A thought seemed
to strike both the billionaire and Dr. Gupta simultaneously. The 3D
printer. Both men made for the laboratory, but Hansen’s long arms
blocked the way.

S 42 S

ENTANGLED JASMINE

“Let me clear it first, mates.”
The 12.5-inch barrel of the black P716 led the way out of the
room, silently sweeping the hall and doorways for any threats. Near
the elevators lay an elderly security guard, face down in a gathering
pool of still bright red blood. Doctor Jenson dropped to his knees and
checked him. Entrance wound in the back of the head, and the upper
face gone with the exiting round.A second round through the back for
good measure. Dead. Jenson glanced up at the others around him. Dr.
Gupta’s stubby hands were visibly trembling, his eyes wide with shock.
Hansen was in a tactical crouch facing away, andTan Sri Datta was still
in the adrenaline surge of the moment. Manisha Bharat’s features were
drawn tight with concern, yet remarkably calm and collected.
Bullet holes trailed across the wall next to the stairwell, and a
couple of waiting room chairs had been knocked over. Not much else
to see. Doctor Jenson followed the others into the laboratory. Some
furniture askew here too, and the door to the 3D printer room wide
open.
Dr. Gupta had recovered sufficiently to look over the equipment.
“Shit. The critical components are gone. Quite efficiently, too.
Someone knew exactly what they wanted.”
Tan Sri Datta erupted. His cell phone came out, his fingers jabbing
at the keys.
“Oh, my god. This is a disaster! The police have got to stop them
before they get away with this.”
A confused expression washed over Dr. Gupta’s face as he ob-
served the outburst. Only Jenson noticed. Tan Sri Datta and Hansen
stormed from the room, darting quickly into the elevator. Manisha
Bharat hovered over the printer for a closer look. Dr. Jenson turned
to the scientist.
“Dr. Gupta?”
Jenson’s hushed tone was intended for him alone.
“Deepak, what’s troubling you?”

S 43 S

PATRICK DELANEY

The other man stared silently back at him. Then his attention
snapped back into focus.

“This isn’t just about the printer. Tan Sri knows that, too.
Remember after the gunman ran out? The lights flickered and the ho-
lograms disappeared.”

Doctor Jenson paused. He’d chocked off the power break to the
printer going offline. But the holograms?

“Deepak, do you think this was about stealing APSARA?”
A primal fear showed in the other man’s face.
“With virtual certainty.”

S 44 S

Chapter Eleven

D r. Gupta had been spirited rapidly away with Tan Sri Datta and
his small army of security. And this bunch looked much more
competent than the old men at the school.The crime scene was now
in the hands of the federal police. Dr. Jenson and Manisha Bharat
were kept separate through the hours of questioning. He wondered
how she was holding up. They had plenty of questions for him. He
was seated at a desk in one of the glass cubicles, facing the wall. A
blue-uniformed policeman stood in the doorway, hand resting on
his sidearm. Soon another official entered, this one wearing a black
suit and tie.The older man sat down across from him. A spiral note-
pad and better pen came from his coat pocket. The official took his
time, letting the silence build.When he finally spoke, his English was
immaculate.

“Dr. Jenson, I understand that you are here to lecture to the medi-
cal students?”

“That’s right.”
“But that was yesterday.Why are you here today?”
The same questions, over and over. He tried to keep his cool.
“As I told your other officers, I was invited back by Tan Sri Datta
and his team to help build their training scenarios. Confirm that with
him, if you feel the need.”

S 45 S


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