The carpeting was stained and matted, and the bedspreads were stiff and shiny. Imtaz Zubair did not complain. To do so in front of al-Yamani would have been foolish, especially since the man was in the bathroom throwing up. He was dying of radiation poisoning, that was obvious. Zubair had seen it before when he worked at the Chasnupp nuclear power plant in Central Pakistan. There had been a minor leak that had been missed by a faulty sensor. A technician had continued to work in the contaminated area for an entire shift before it was discovered. By then it was too late. Within a day the man was vomiting and had blotchy burn marks on his skin. Then came the swollen eyes, the agonizing spasms of pain, and finally the man's hands had turned to gelatin and he had bled to death from the inside out. Zubair still remembered the screams. What a terrible way to die. Zubair sat at the foot of the bed and stared at the TV. He had been ordered to tell al-Yamani when the American president came on.
