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           Excerpt from Chapter Twelve

Donovan paced the polished tile floor of the waiting room, feeling like a pawn on a vast blue and white chessboard.

His friend, Aziz Gamal came down the hall. “Hey, Gutter Man, you scoundrel.”

“Hey, Camel.” He reached to shake hands. “How you doing?”

“Good. I heard your lady friend is in the exam room with Grace Keller.”

“Yeah, Grace the neurosurgeon. I thought she was a nurse, so I asked her when the doctor would come to see Sandia.”

Camel laughed. “Don’t worry, she’s used to it. She looks twenty, but she’s over thirty and probably one of the best neurosurgeons in the state. You’re lucky to get her.”

“You’re right about that, the only problem is she’s in there with Sandia, who has trouble communicating. Her great-grandfather is with her, but he’s stuck in a Kwajalein POW camp in World War Two.”

“What?”

“World War Two, you know, planes, tanks, ships…it was a big fracas back in the 40s, you might have stumbled across it in your reading.”

“Yeah, but what was that other word? Kwaja what?

“Kwajalein. It’s an island in the South Pacific. Bloody battle there in the war. Apparently, the old man was captured by the Japanese.” 

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The Last Seat on the          Hindenburg

A misdialed phone number brings Donovan to Sandia’s front door. He thought he was to teach Braille to a blind person, while she thought he was a disability attorney.  When Donovan learns of Sandia’s and her grandfather’s dreadful circumstances, the Braille lesson is forgotten and he embarks on a mission to help Sandia solve the several dilemmas that threaten to overwhelm her.

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The prison known as Kauen Bogdanovka located 120 kilometers southeast of Petrozagrad, Aberkerzambia

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Hiwa Lani working on William Martin’s wounds on the beach at Kwajalein in 1942