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Back The Desert of Glass Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. BY MICHAEL C. GRUMLEY
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. 70
  73. 71
  74. 72
  75. 73
  76. 74
  77. 75
  78. 76
  79. 77
  80. 78
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. II
  83. III
  84. IV

Was that crazy?  Could someone do that?  Had he been involved in something nefarious or illegal, which was the reason why he donated so much money to orphanages and children?  But he’d been involved with them from the very beginning—almost immediately following his newfound wealth, as far as she could tell.  Beginning somewhere in the 1960s.

Could it have been a preventive measure in case he was later caught, so he could fall back on his reputation as a humanitarian?

Mona shook her head.  No.  That was a stretch.  Maybe Saad was simply a good man—perhaps even someone who participated in a little financial fraud and had to cover it up all for the greater good.

Which could easily explain Harpreet Ahuja sending copies of financial records to Hamed, attempting to expose a fraud.  But even her friend Omar had said he hadn’t found any red flags.  If there were any, he’d said they’d have to be deeper.  So why would Ahuja send financial records to Hamed if there was nothing obvious in them?  Especially since Hamed was a pilot and probably unfamiliar with the ins and outs of corporate finances.

The puzzle was starting to fall apart again, as though she had to mentally glue the pieces in place just to keep them connected.

She was missing something.

Of that, she was sure.

22

22

Through a set of dark attractive eyes, the psychiatrist studied all nine girls through a square window in the door.  All were seated at desks with their heads down, obedient and writing.

It was called psychometrics, a battery of qualitative tests used to assess intellectual, behavioral and communicative skills in both children and adults and ranging from verbal to nonverbal to physiological to emotional.  It was a bevy of measurements to evaluate and identify a person’s particular abilities and skills—even gifts, to ensure placement in the most conducive environments.  Or, in the case of adults, the most applicable vocations.

Used worldwide, psychometrics, along with traditional clinical assessments and observation, gave professional psychiatrists and psychologists the tools they needed to study and understand a person deeper at all levels, particularly regarding behavior.

Which was precisely what Dr. Layla Abo was doing over the course of several days.  Although, admittedly, her tests had to be significantly modified for orphaned girls.  And the same for the boys.

She would take three of each.  After multiple interviews, thorough psychometric testing and finally, behavior and social observations, she would select the best suited to weed out unforeseen issues or complications.

This was a long, arduous process that Abo had performed hundreds of times over her career, honing her technique to produce the best possible results.  Of course, mistakes still occasionally occurred, but they had become increasingly less common, giving the doctor a gratifying feeling of achievement and efficiency.

“Is everything correct?” asked an approaching staff member.

Dr. Layla Abo nodded without turning around, continuing to stare through the small window.  “Yes.”