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Chapter 178 – The Interrupted Mission
🕑 Added 2025-09-20 17:12:48 +0000 UTC
It was nearly dinner time when Audrey Hepburn slowly woke from her sleep. A delicate fragrance teased the appetite.
It came from Henry’s little improvised kitchen—his own stove and ingredients—producing a bowl of egg-drop rice porridge. The water was bottled mineral water from Europe, the rice fragrant Thai jasmine, and the eggs local… though who knew what kind of chickens had laid them.
The moment he saw Audrey awake, Henry brought over a small tray that could be placed on the bed, ladled out a small bowl of porridge, and set it in front of her.
“Boss, do you think you can eat on your own, or should I feed you?”
“So it’s that time already.”
“Mm. I figured you haven’t been taking to African food lately—either too fishy, or unhygienic. You barely touch the local meals, and always end up hungry back at the hotel, where I cook for you. So this time, I made it ahead. Saves the fuss, and no more missed meals.”
“Hehe, I’ll manage myself. I’m not a patient.” With Henry’s help, Audrey sat up against a stack of pillows, stubbornly declaring so.
But Henry shook his head. “No, the doctor says you are.”
Instead of picking up the spoon, she asked calmly, “And what did the doctor say?”
“He said you need tests at a proper hospital with advanced equipment. He can’t do a thorough diagnosis here. Your abdominal pain doesn’t look temporary—the problem’s deeper. Painkillers won’t cure it.”
“But I feel perfectly fine now. Tomorrow’s schedule won’t be a problem.”
“Really? Then get up and dance a little Swan Lake?” Henry tilted his head.
Audrey looked embarrassed. “Child, you’re making things hard for me.”
“I’ve already asked the U.N. to arrange a plane. We’ll return directly to Switzerland for tests. I’ve also notified Robert—we’re going back.”
They had to return to Switzerland because that was where Hepburn had always had her regular checkups, with complete medical records.
“And the children we were supposed to visit?” Audrey pressed.
Taking a folder from his briefcase, Henry explained:
“Today’s unfinished visits have already been handled under Plan C of the contingency protocols. Teams have delivered the scheduled supplies.
“They’ve explained your condition and why you couldn’t come. Starting tomorrow, all missions will follow Plan C as well—supplies will be distributed to the destinations as planned.
“U.N. staff will oversee the deliveries and conduct inspections. Once back in New York, we can compile a full report of this trip. The only difference from the original plan is—you weren’t there in person.”
“Oh dear, that makes me sound almost dispensable,” Audrey said with self-mockery.
“Impossible, Boss. Without you, those supplies might never even make it out of the ports. Local governments would sell them off for things that never reach children—like weapons.
“It’s because you’re there, asking about the kids at every stop, that the aid really gets to them instead of being diverted. You’re far more important than you think.”
“But we still have to leave.” Audrey sighed.
“Only with health can you do good work. Otherwise, forcing yourself half-dead only creates trouble for others and helps no one.”
Audrey put on a pitiful face. “Child, don’t you think I need comfort right now, not such sharp words?”
“Then I’d say—Boss, you’re fine, you’re as strong as ever! Which is exactly what you’d use to insist on continuing the trip. Don’t play games.”
“Not a crack for me to slip through,” Audrey muttered, spooning up the porridge slowly.
Henry spread his hands. “What can I do? Sometimes I think your health’s failing because I’ve made things too easy. With me doing everything, you’re free to plan more trips, push yourself harder, and exhaust yourself.
“If I hadn’t helped so much, maybe the work would’ve been lighter, less packed, and you’d be less worn out. So maybe I should start slacking off—don’t expect me to do everything.”
Looking at the big boy sitting on the edge of the bed, weighed down with guilt, Audrey almost wanted to reach out and ruffle his hair. But the rascal seemed to sense it and kept his distance, giving her no chance.
So all she could do was smile faintly and say, “Good child, you can’t really mean to leave me carrying everything alone. I’m the patient, remember?”
“Heh—so now you admit you’re a patient. Since you know you are, then eat properly. Skipping meals ruins your stomach. Once we’re back in Switzerland and you’ve seen the doctor, there’ll be plenty of work waiting.”
“I protest! I’m your employer—the boss!”
“Exactly. And that’s why I’m trying to keep you alive, so I can keep collecting my salary for a few more years.” Henry grumbled, “Dead people don’t pay wages.”
Seeing she couldn’t win the argument, Audrey let it go and simply focused on the porridge. Her recent irregular meals were no doubt part of what had harmed her health. If she wanted to recover, she needed regular food and regular rest.
After finishing the small bowl, she felt a little stronger.
“Child, another bowl please. That wasn’t enough.”
“Of course.”
This time Henry made it thicker, with more softened rice and egg. She finished it as well, but asked for no more.
After tidying up, Henry asked, “Shall I bring in the others, or would you rather rest?”
“Please ask the team leader to come. I’d like to confirm a few things.”
“Right away.” Henry carried the dishes out, then returned with the U.N. field coordinator.
He was a young African American, not yet forty, a dreamer who longed to give more to his homeland.
As soon as he entered, he asked, “Mrs. Hepburn, how are you feeling?”
“I’m sorry—it looks like I’ll have to withdraw for a while.” With outsiders, Audrey dropped the playful tone she sometimes used with Henry and spoke plainly of her condition.
“I’ve already heard from Henry and the doctor. Your health comes first. Please, take care.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “And the follow-up arrangements—are you ready?”
“Yes.” The young man outlined the revised plans.
He was the team’s leader, but she was their living banner, UNICEF’s Goodwill Ambassador. The best outcome was for them to speak in one voice.
So when she asked, he answered carefully. Especially regarding the distribution of supplies—without close oversight, who knew whose hands they might end up in? That was always the hardest part of any aid mission.
Meanwhile, Africa—and half the world with it—was already falling under night’s quiet veil outside the window.
