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The sheik sternly addresses the two goons who entered with McCarthy.

“The medical analysis! Now!” he shouts.

“Of course. The Newbola testing,” says one of the stooges. He immediately grabs Belinda and throws her to the ground. She squirms and screams and tries in vain to fend off her attacker.

At the same time, the other one grabs Maddy by her shoulders and pushes her down to the floor. Maddy feels so weak that she offers no resistance at all.

The Newbola test consists of an electronic device with a short bloodletting spike inserted quickly and sharply into the lower stomach. A few drops of blood are extracted. The blood specimens are smeared on individual small devices. As soon as the blood-to-machine connections are made, both testing devices emit a loud beeping sound.

“Both girls are exactly where we want them,” says one of the men. Then he adds, “If you’d like to interview your new employees now, we can give you some privacy.”

The man nods and waddles over to Maddy when the three men leave, and as she feels his eyes on her, she hopes there truly is an interview coming, and not a more sinister reason for him to desire privacy. And what did it mean when the goon said that both girls were exactly where they wanted them after they were tested for Newbola? Is that what’s wrong with Maddy? Is that why she is so weak? Does she have Newbola?

“You will please stand,” he shouts at Maddy.

A pause. Too long a pause for him to tolerate.

“I can’t get up,” says Maddy. “I’m too… tired. I’m exhausted.”

He nudges Maddy impatiently with his fat foot, then kicks a little harder when this gains no response. And it is that kick that inspires a human explosion from Belinda.

Belinda may not have studied with the great Dache. Belinda may not have unique preternatural powers. But on the tough streets of New York City, in one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, she has learned how to defend herself—and her friends.

Belinda springs from the floor, delivering a strong kick into the man’s stomach. Then she gouges both of the fat man’s eyes with her index fingers.

He screams out in an animal kind of pain. Belinda screams in victory.

Her blows are not especially strong, but she has a compensatory talent: she has the anger of a girl who has been abused for her entire life and is propelled by rage. The man falls to the ground and lets out yet another strong yelp of pain.

Belinda turns her attention now to Maddy.

“Get up, Maddy. You’ve got to get up. You can. I know you can,” Belinda yells. She kneels next to her friend while she steals glances at the quivering mass of flesh that was supposed to be their new boss.

Maddy staggers to her feet. Her knees are weak. Her head hurts. She takes a deep breath. Maddy leans on Belinda, and they walk toward the dining room. From the dining room to the kitchen. From the kitchen to the service entrance.

As they open the service door, they hear a loud screech from the room behind them, then the sound of footsteps as the goons respond to the man’s cry.

They hear someone yell, “Those bitches! Those goddamn bitches!”

Those bitches make their way down from the suite via the employee elevator. They’ve outsmarted the kidnappers. They’ve immobilized a drug kingpin of Dubai. Now all they have to do is deal with a very unfamiliar city that neither of them knows anything about.

CHAPTER 87

THE PROBLEMS OF the world are drowning Margo, Jessica, and me. Even Bando’s mood is low. The worldwide infestation of the Newbola virus. The terrifying prospect of the destruction of the entire planet by the insane powers of Glenn Ambrose.

Can anything be worse? Yes and yes and yes. We are overwhelmed with misery and panic at the disappearance of our beloved Maddy. Maddy, the tough and trained inheritor of my personal crusade for peace and justice. Maddy, a human vessel of kindness and intelligence, wisdom and joy.Maddy, where the hell are you?

When Grandma Jessica brought the news, we immediately exhausted all investigative skills at our disposal. I contacted every ally I’ve ever had—the premier of Canada, the London School of Science and Technology, the holy Buddhist monks still remaining in the Maldives.

They, and others, are attacking the mystery with full force. But no one can find even a hint of knowledge ofMaddy’s whereabouts. There are no limits to my pursuit. I even have the audacity to contact Dache. His only response is “I have a sense of her absence, but there is no communication from her—not even a weak signal. I share your fear. I will employ all my skills to assist.”

This is horrible news. If Dache cannot succeed, then none of us… But as I ponder this impossible situation, a message appears on my personal handheld device.

I study the words intently. It seems vaguely Arabic or Iranian, languages I am usually able to read and speak, but I am unable to translate the script in my current state.

Grandma Jessica shouts out, “It’s Arabic. I know it is. It doesn’t really make sense. But… but… It just sounds foolish, something about a town or a place—” Confused, she furrows her brow, then a light dawns in her eyes.

“If you read the sentence backward, it says, ‘I am lost in a very big city.’”