Vince Flynn - The Last Man

Durrani frowned and said, “It is imperative that you do not speak to anyone of this.”

“I understand.” Bhutani placed a caring hand on the general’s arm. “I will speak to no one, but I will see where we can take him if we absolutely have to. I have some ideas. In the meantime you will need to come up with an official explanation… a cover, I think you call it.”

“I have already taken care of that,” Durrani said with a wink.

“May I send a nurse over? Someone we can trust?” When Durrani hesitated, the doctor said, “It is essential that we monitor his vitals every hour until we think he is out of danger.” Seeing that Durrani wasn’t convinced, he added, “I know who I can trust. People who believe in what you are doing… in what we are doing.”

Durrani weighed the need for secrecy against the possibility of Rickman’s dying. He could always kill the nurse if he felt the need to, but if Rickman died there was no bringing him back. The nurse might also help avoid having to bring him to a hospital, which would be a very difficult environment to control. “Fine, but just one nurse. She can train one of my men what to do when she needs to sleep. She must never speak of any of this. Never.”

“I will make sure of it.”

Durrani then attempted to hand the doctor an envelope filled with cash. Bhutani vehemently refused, and when Durrani insisted, the doctor was insulted, telling Durrani that everyone must do his part in the defense of Pakistan and that this was his contribution.

The nurse had showed up within the hour. She was an ugly, fat thing, and Durrani decided almost immediately that the woman would have to die. She had spent the night at Rickman’s side, taking care of his every need and giving him the appropriate drugs and fluids as needed.

Now, Durrani snatched the handset from his office phone and pressed the Page button and then a second button for the guesthouse living room. After a series of long beeps, Kassar answered in his disinterested voice.

“The nurse,” Durrani said, “Send her to the other guesthouse. Tell her to take a two-hour break and that you will come get her when you need her.”

“Is your friend here?”

Durrani glanced at the security feed. “Almost. I don’t want the nurse to see him.”

“What does it matter? You are going to kill her anyway.”

“She doesn’t need to see this, and stop questioning my decisions. Just do what I say.” Durrani replaced the handset and wondered if it was time to get rid of Kassar. The problem would be replacing the man. He was so good at what he did, Durrani doubted he could find someone to fill his shoes any time soon.

Durrani returned his attention to the flat-screen TV in time to see the black Range Rover pull up to his private gate. His men did a quick inspection of the vehicle by running a mirror underneath and then checking the trunk cargo area. When the vehicle was cleared, Durrani stabbed out his cigarette, stood, and walked down the long hallway, stopping just short of the foyer. After fifteen months of hard work, the decisive moment was upon him.

He looked at his reflection in a full-length mirror with a thick gold frame. After adjusting the black beret on his head, he adjusted his tan tunic to make sure all the buttons were centered. His left breast was covered with four rows of ribbons and each collar had two gold stars in a sea of red. Pleased with his impressive image Durrani moved to the front door and opened it in time to see his guest emerging from the Range Rover.

“Larry,” Durrani yelled with a wave. One of Durrani’s bodyguards was waving a black magnetic wand over his guest, more for show than anything. Durrani yelled at the guard, “No need for that. He’s fine. Larry, come.” The general stood, beaming with anticipation, waving his right arm for his American friend to join him.

The American was wearing a khaki suit with a blue button-down shirt. He walked casually across the stone courtyard with a warm smile on his face. “General, good to see you.”

“And you, too, Larry.”

Larry Lee was an American expatriate from Wichita, Kansas. He was an engineer who specialized in petroleum refineries. “I can’t get over how beautiful your house turned out.” Lee stopped and did a 360-degree turn, taking it all in.

“And your house will be just as beautiful.”

“Not quite, but it is nice of you to say.”

Durrani had purchased a smaller lot next door for Lee, his business partner. Lee had started building at the same time as Durrani but was still months away from finishing. Lee complained that the contractors took advantage of him, but Durrani had talked to the builder and found out that the engineer in Lee made it very difficult because he wanted to inspect and sign off on every piece of work.

The two men shook hands and Durrani said, “How long until your house is complete?”

Lee shrugged as if to say your guess is a good as anyone’s. “They tell me two months, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I will see if I can hurry them along,” Durrani said with a wink as he grabbed Lee by the elbow. Whispering in his ear, he said, “There is something that I want to show you.” He led Lee by the elbow into the house.

Halfway down the hall to the study, Durrani stopped and pressed the button for the elevator. Lee looked surprised, “The basement.”

“Yes.”

“Did you put in a pistol range?” Lee asked hopefully.

“No… I did not think of that.” Durrani stroked his mustache and then laughed. “That is a wonderful idea. I will have my architect look into it.”

They stepped into the elevator and Lee took the opportunity to lecture Durrani about the engineering of an indoor pistol range. Durrani couldn’t get off the elevator fast enough. He’d had about all he could take of this condescending American. He showed him to the secure door and punched in his code.

“I didn’t know you had tunnels,” Lee said as he walked along the cement floor.

“I had them installed for security.” Durrani continued the small talk until they reached the door that led to the smaller of the two guesthouses.

As they started up the stairs, Lee asked, “What did you want to show me?”

“These tunnels are very convenient. I think we should think about putting another one in.”

“Between our two properties?”

“Yes.”

“I never thought of that.”

By the time they got to the top of the stairs Durrani was out of breath. Lee continued to talk and eventually got around to asking a question. Durrani held up a hand, signaling that he was out of breath, while his other hand searched for his pack of cigarettes.

“You know those things are going to kill you, right? As your business partner, I have every right to get on you about stopping. If you die, our partnership will go up in flames.”

There were so many things that Durrani wanted to say, but instead he stuffed a cigarette between his two lips and nodded in agreement. Kassar appeared, standing at the edge of the sunken living room. “Vazir,” Durrani said, “you remember Larry?”

“Of course,” Kassar said with a nod of recognition.

Durrani took in several deep drags, which in a strange way seemed to settle his breathing. After exhaling a big cloud of smoke, he waved for Lee to follow him. As they walked down the hallway, Durrani began talking in a quiet voice. “What I’m about to show you is a real tragedy. I have another American friend, who was savagely beaten by a group of street thugs in Rawalpindi. I have arranged for him to recover here where he will be safe. It is embarrassing the way my countrymen treat our greatest allies at times.”

“Not everyone is so rude. Your behavior alone, General, helps a great deal.”