Banks glared at Kazi. His jaws clenched, and he was determined to take his execution like an American, like a soldier. He said nothing.
Kazi bent down in front of him and placed his forearms comfortably across the table.
“Dr. Banks… there’s a couple of ways we can do this. It’s entirely your choice. But before you choose, I want you to know what a marvelous invention Facebook is. Oh yes, it clearly helped fuel the Arab Spring in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya and perhaps even in Syria. What would the Occupy Wall Street movement have been without Facebook? Do you have a Facebook page, Dr. Banks?”
Banks remained silent.
“Let me think… hmmm… yes, yes now that I think of it you do, don’t you… Dean Banks, MD… Board Certified Gynecologist practicing with the Bucks County Women’s Health Clinic, US Army Reservist on a four-month deployment to Afghanistan. Nice of you to wish all your friends goodbye and a Merry Christmas.”
“Banks is a common name. Nice try,” Major Banks said.
“That was my concern too… but when my friends in Philadelphia finally got your 14-year-old son Chad to ‘friend’ them well, then we knew. The family photos are precious. Chad and Brittany look like lovely children. And your wife, Meg — or do you still call her Peggy — she is very attractive Dr. Banks… very attractive.”
The major’s heart sank to the floor.
“Did you know that your Chad is in the same Phillies Baseball Fan Club as my friends? He likes baseball! I prefer cricket myself, but baseball is close. Now, Dr. Banks… you have a beautiful home in Doylestown, on Bergstrom Road, no? I saw the photos. It must be very close to the Country Club and Golf Course. Does Brittany still take tennis lessons there? I read one of her posts on your wall. It sounded like tennis lessons to me.”
Banks began to panic. He felt nauseated as his mind wandered through a million possibilities over what could happen to his family.
“Okay, stop… stop! I’ll do what you want.”
“We’re going to film a little video for your family, Dr. Banks. My friends will gladly post it on Chad’s wall, if you like, or Brittany’s. You do this surgery, and if the commander’s wife lives… then we will drop you off on a road by Thunder, just as I promised. Refuse to perform this surgery, or if the commander’s wife doesn’t make it through the surgery… then neither will you. So think of this as possibly a ‘goodbye’ video, or possibly not. But the only way that Chad, Brittany and your wife Peggy will ever see your thespian skills depends on how you act now. Don’t be stupid, Dr. Banks, and don’t be sloppy.”
Banks swallowed hard and said a quick prayer.
“One final thing, Dr. Banks… if this doesn’t go well, and go well quickly… my friends will be visiting your house tomorrow morning, while everyone is asleep in that four-bedroom, three-bath house of yours on Bergstrom Road. But I promise you that Brittany will live… she will certainly be able to please a man, don’t you think?”
Kazi put two sheets of scribbled English on the table in front of the knife.
“Read them, Dr. Banks… and sound convincing. This is the performance of your life.”
Paktya Regional Hospital
FOB Thunder, 203rd Corps, Afghanistan
US Navy Captain “Camp” Campbell, Billy Finn and Captain Henry walked through the main entry doors and into the Paktya Regional Hospital. The Afghan day workers stood and greeted the trio with the same morning ritual. Miriam was 10 feet behind just as she had been for almost five years. Five other American medics were in the main lobby as well as three more interpreters from Terp Village.
“Geez, looks like a Shriner’s convention in here. Where’s Mahmoud?” Camp asked in no mood for small talk, hot tea or cultural pleasantries.
Miriam yelled out the Captain’s question in Pashtu, as she removed the solitary bead from her necklace and put it in the glass vase on her desk.
“Dr. Mahmoud is down in the emergency room, Captain Campbell. I can take you down there now,” said Miriam as she entered the long fluorescent-lit corridor that led down to the ER.
“He’s back to work already?” Camp muttered to no one in particular.
Mahmoud was restocking bandages and wraps in the first-aid cabinet as the three Americans and Miriam walked into the ER. Captain Henry walked over to Mahmoud as Camp and Finn examined the layout of the ER, especially the ambulance access doors.
“Salam, Dr. Mahmoud.”
“Salam, Captain Henry. Who are your friends?”
“Dr. Mahmoud, this is US Navy Captain Campbell and Bill Finn from ISAF in Kabul.”
Mahmoud covered his heart with his right hand and lowered his eyes in respect.
“Is there any news on Major Banks?” Mahmoud asked.
“Nothing yet,” Camp said.
“I’m sure this was a very traumatic event for you, Dr. Mahmoud,” Finn questioned.
“I came close to death, Mr. Finn. Allah was faithful, and I was spared another day.”
Camp walked over to Mahmoud and stood right in front of him. “Captain Henry says that when he and Miriam returned from starting the IV antibiotics for your tularemia patients, they found you bound and gagged on the gurney.”
“That is correct, Captain Campbell. After they hit Major Banks over the head, he fell onto the woman. She got up immediately and covered his mouth with duct tape. They rolled one table out and another one in. I thought they would kill me right there.”
“But they didn’t.”
“No. They made me get on the gurney, and they strapped me in with leather restraints. They covered my mouth with tape as well.”
“And then they cut your throat?” Finn asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you see it?” Finn asked.
“See what Mr. Finn?”
“The blade. Was it a knife… a sword… a letter opener? What did they cut you with, Dr. Mahmoud?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. I was trembling with fear.”
Camp raised his hands slowly toward Mahmoud’s face.
“May I?” Camp asked as he tilted Mahmoud’s chin up.
Mahmoud nodded. Camp examined the thin red cut line and scab.
“You’re lucky to be alive, Dr. Mahmoud, they missed your carotid artery by less than a centimeter.”
“Really?”
“Good thing Captain Henry and Miriam returned when they did. You could have bled out,” said Campbell. “Is that the door they brought the woman in?”
“Yes, and the same one they took Major Banks out of.”
“The woman… did you recognize her?” asked Finn.
“No. I was told she was the Commando colonel’s wife. But we have since learned that was a lie,” Mahmoud said as he gently rubbed his neck.
“Any idea who would have wanted to do this?” Camp asked.
“No. Major Banks was a very nice person. But I don’t think this was about Major Banks,” Mahmoud reasoned. Camp paused and waited for the explanation.
“Okay. What’s it about Dr. Mahmoud?” Camp asked.
“War. Afghanistan has been at war since 1980. These things happen in war all the time,” Mahmoud said.
“Not with American Army doctors who are here to help,” Camp lectured.
Mahmoud dropped his head. “War doesn’t care who you are, Captain Campbell,” Mahmoud said sadly.
Camp, Finn and Captain Henry walked to the doorway and Miriam followed.
“I’m sure we’ll have more questions, Dr. Mahmoud. Can we talk to you again tomorrow?” Camp asked.
“Yes, certainly, Captain Campbell. I’m here to help.”
Finn exited then took a few steps back into the ER. “Dr. Mahmoud, looks like you scored a new pair of Air Jordans. Nice shoes.”