THIRTY-SEVEN
FINALLY, THE NURSE left Sultan by himself.
8h15 by his watch—he’d just been discharged officially. His ankle had not been broken after all, just badly sprained. Nevertheless, they’d put it in a cast. The whole previous evening and early morning had been an endless rotation of nurses and doctors, visits to x-ray theaters, discussions with police, other guardsmen and senior staff members. They all had slightly different questions about the incident on the highway, the death of Mr. Al Waleed, what he knew about the heist at the hotel, about the people that died, about why there were guardsmen dead in the hotel afterwards, about the westerners involved and where they might be. The questions from the police skewed toward criminal, the questions from the Guard towards him, what he
