The Last Man (45 page)

Mansur tried to apologize, but Kassar was not interested. When Durrani finally got on the phone, Kassar filled him on what was going on and then told him that the men he had sent were incompetent fools who should be reassigned to one of the suicide battalions that the Taliban were so proud of. When Durrani started asking too many questions, Kassar cut him off and told him he would call him back. He ended the call just as they raced into the small town, going so fast that they were out of it by the time Kassar could tell the driver to slow down.

He breathed a huge sigh of relief that they were back among the fields and trees. Kassar had just started to tell the driver to slow down when it happened. The car lurched, slowed suddenly, and then began to spin out of control. None of them were wearing their seat belts, and when the car came out of its first full spin it flipped, and Kassar found himself floating between the seat and the ceiling. Then the vehicle hit something incredibly hard and helicoptered upside down into the forest until it came violently to a stop between two trees.

Disoriented but conscious, Kassar began to feel his way out of the upside-down car. There was broken glass everywhere and he could already smell the petrol leaking and the burnt rubber of the tires. There were other movements inside the car. Unfortunately, the fool Mansur was still alive. The driver was motionless. The thought of Rapp in close pursuit drove Kassar to ignore the pain and move faster. He squirmed out of the vehicle, onto his back, and sat up. He immediately noticed his balance was off, but nothing appeared to be broken. Mansur and one of the other men got out of the car and wanted to know what to do. Kassar stood and looked down the road. To his left he noticed another car and some men with rifles. To his right he thought he glimpsed Rapp’s BMW moving through the small town.

Mansur clutched his arm. “We should make a stand here.” Kassar shook his head and said, “I know what we need to do.” He pointed into the woods, and when Mansur and the other man turned to see what he was pointing at, Kassar shot them both in the back of the head. He then dropped his gun, put his hands above his head, and walked back to the road.

Chapter 55

Ramstein Air Base, Germany

The Gulfstream G550 touched down after dark. The president had ordered Kennedy to meet with her counterpart in Pakistan to see if she could find a solution to the brewing controversy at the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad, where four Pakistani nationals were seeking political asylum after having been exposed by Rickman. The crowds were growing each day, the worst and most violent on Friday when a group of radical imams had led a march on the embassy that had resulted in three deaths and Pakistani security forces dispersing the crowd with tear gas and rubber bullets. The imams had promised to return and storm the embassy. Kennedy was to try to find a backdoor solution. If she failed, the secretary of state would be making the next trip.

The G550 was capable of flying nonstop from D.C. to Islamabad, but Kennedy had the plane diverted to Ramstein after Rapp told her what he’d discovered. Kennedy’s plane came to a stop next to the other CIA G550, and as soon as the stairs were lowered, Rapp bounded up the steps with Hurley following. Rapp and Hurley continued past the director’s security detail and her staff to the back of the plane, where they sat down with Kennedy. With help of Hayek, Rapp had prepared a briefing folder for Kennedy.

Rapp handed it to her and said, “Look at this on the flight. It’s information that you can use to make Durrani nervous, but I don’t want you letting him know that we know he’s behind this.”

Kennedy took the file. “Are you sure he’s behind it?”

“Yes. This Kassar is cooperating, and there is no way he could be making this stuff up.”

“And he says Rick is still alive?” Kennedy asked.

“Alive and resting at Durrani’s private compound. He’s slated for plastic surgery on Monday.”

Kennedy grabbed her forehead. “I can’t believe this.” Looking at Hurley, she asked, “Stan, do you trust this man?”

“I don’t trust anyone except maybe you two, but he seems sincere.”

“I heard he executed two of his own men in Switzerland.”

“He did,” Rapp said, “but they weren’t his men. They were Durrani’s, and he claims they were idiots.”

“So he just kills them and I’m supposed to think that makes everything fine?”

Hurley and Rapp shared an awkward glance. “It’s hard to explain, Irene, but I believe this guy,” Rapp said.

Kennedy thought of what Rapp had said to her a few days earlier. “Do you believe him because you want to believe him?”

“That’s not it,” Hurley jumped in. “This Kassar tells a pretty convincing story.”

“Irene,” Rapp said, leaning forward, “he’s the guy in the tape. The one who walks in and shoots the two guys.”

“He told you that?” Kennedy asked in near total shock.

“Yes . . . he told us how he gave Rick a shot right before the final beating that would make it look like he was dead. They staged the whole thing. Including leaving the camera behind for us to find.”

“And the beating was real?”

“Yep . . . It was Rick’s idea. Kassar said he tried to stop it repeatedly, but Rick would not listen. He said the only way it would work was if they made it look real.”

As Kennedy thought of the remorse and recrimination she’d felt over Rickman’s beating and death she was dumbstruck. What kind of sick man would go to such lengths?

“And Hubbard was supposed to disappear as well,” Hurley added. “It was part of the deal Rick set up. He had arranged for Hubbard to stay behind and feed Mitch the information about the dog and then they would sneak him out of the country, but Durrani thought bringing Hubbard along was too big a risk, so he had him killed and told Rick Mitch did it.”

“And Gould?”

“Rick hired him,” Hurley said. “Kassar said Rick was obsessed with Mitch. Said he kept telling Durrani that the only way this would work was if Mitch was killed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Apparently,” Rapp said with no joy, “he thinks I’m the only man who ever really got him. Who understood how he thought.”

“And,” Hurley said, “he was scared shitless of Mitch. Kept telling Durrani that Mitch was the last man at the Agency. That if he had even the slightest inkling that something was wrong he wouldn’t stop until he’d tracked both of them down and killed them.”

“Which is exactly what I’m going to do.”

Kennedy took in a deep breath and leaned back. She could tell by the look on both Rapp’s and Hurley’s faces that it would be impossible to dissuade them from killing Rickman and Durrani. At the moment she had no objection, but this could be a very complicated operation, one they might not survive. “Why do I get the feeling that the two of you already have a plan?”

“We’re still working on it,” Rapp said.

“I don’t want to rush into this,” Kennedy declared. “We should get JSOC involved and do this the right way.”

“Irene, you know I love JSOC. No one is better than those guys, but that could take weeks to pull together. Rick can give away a lot of secrets in two weeks. Shit, he can give away a lot of secrets in two days.”

“I don’t like the idea of sending you two in to handle something like this. If anything goes wrong I won’t be able to help you. Durrani is a dangerous man.”

“Irene, look at the fallout after the bin Laden raid, and that was Abbottabad, sixty minutes north of the capital, and bin Laden was a fucking Saudi and the most notorious terrorist in the world. Durrani is a decorated Army officer and for all intents and purposes the second most powerful man in the ISI, and his compound is on the outskirts of the capital. You can’t send the SEALs or Delta Force in there. We’ll have a fucking war on our hands.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. “How are you going to do it?”

There was another sheepish look between Rapp and Hurley, and then Rapp finally said, “Like I said, we’re still working on it.”

“That’s fine, but I want to hear the broad brushstrokes.”

“When’s your meeting with Taj, and can you get Durrani to attend?”

“Tomorrow afternoon at three, and I have requested that all three deputies attend, including Nadeem Ashan, who was fired yesterday.”

“Good. It would really help if you made sure Durrani was in attendance. He knows three of his men are dead. We were listening when Kassar told him. He freaked out.”

“Considering the importance of the meeting, I think I can make that happen.”

“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to fly into Jalalabad and then cross into Pakistan via car. The checkpoints are way more lax than the airports. This way we can bring our equipment, and if Kassar makes one wrong move he’s dead. I can’t hold that threat over him if we fly into Islamabad International or Bhutto.”

“How long is the drive?” Kennedy asked.

“Four hours, tops,” Hurley answered, “I’ve done it many times. I also have a few guys in Peshawar who can facilitate the border crossing so things go smoothly. It’s the Wild West. With enough guns and money, you can get anything you want.”

“That doesn’t comfort me.”

“Irene,” Rapp said, “this shit’s never easy—you know that—but if there’s ever a time where we need to act quickly, this is it. Durrani still thinks he’s safe. We had Kassar check in and tell him that everything is fine.”

Kennedy asked him to explain what they were going to do after they got to Jalalabad, and when Rapp was done telling her, Kennedy said, “I need to meet this Kassar before I sign off on it.”

Rapp had expected as much. Kennedy followed him from one plane to the other while Hurley decided to stay outside and smoke a cigarette. Kassar was in the last seat on the starboard side of the plane with his wrists and ankles flex cuffed. He had a bruise on his forehead and some cuts on his arms and hands.

Knowing what his boss was thinking, Rapp said, “Those are from the car accident. We haven’t laid a hand on him.” One of Coleman’s shooters, Bruno McGraw, was watching the prisoner. Rapp tapped him on the shoulder and told him to take a break.

Kennedy sat down across from Kassar and said, “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-six.”

“And you’ve worked for General Durrani for how long?”

“Five years.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

Kassar took a moment to consider his answer. “The general has become a very reckless man. And he does not treat his people very well.” Kassar looked up at Rapp.

“Go ahead,” Rapp said. “Tell her.”

“When he gets what he wants out of them, he has a habit of killing them.” Kassar stopped for a second and then added, “And lately I’ve been the one doing the killing for him. I get the feeling he’s running out of uses for me now that he has Mr. Rickman. I know too much . . . so he is going to get rid of me.”

“Black Storks?” Kennedy asked, referring to the Pakistani Special Forces’ nickname.

“Yes . . . seven years.”

“And you were recruited to the ISI?”

“Yes.”

Kennedy looked at his haircut and his clothes. His suit was torn and bloody but it was a nice cut. “Where did you grow up?”

“Karachi.”

“Slums?”

“Yes.”

“And the army gave you a new life?”

“Correct.”

“Religion?”

“Islam,” Kassar said, without any passion.

“Not very serious?”

“No.”

She wasn’t sure if she could believe him even though he sounded sincere. “So what do you want out of this?”

Kassar looked nervously at Rapp and said, “My life.”

“That’s a good start, but you surely have other hopes and aspirations?”

“I don’t think Pakistan is really an option for me anymore.”

She understood. “What about America?”

Kassar got a faraway look in his eye. “America would be nice.”

“And what do you think of Mitch’s plan to go in and get Mr. Rickman and General Durrani?”

“Get them . . . you mean we are taking them with us?”

Rapp intervened. “She means kill.” Rapp didn’t want this any more complicated than it already was.

“I think it’s a good plan.”

“All right.” Kennedy stared at him for a long time and finally said, “Vazir, I don’t treat my people like General Durrani. If you do a good job on this, and everyone makes it out alive, I will make sure you are taken care of. I might even have a job for you, but only if you want it. If you don’t, we’ll set you up with a new identity and some money and you can start your life over. Does that sound good?”

“Yes.” Kassar nodded. “It sounds very good.”

“Okay.” Kennedy pointed at the flex cuffs and nodded to Rapp. “No more need for these.”

After Rapp had cut the plastic cuffs with his knife, Kennedy shook Kassar’s hand and said, “Good luck, Vazir, I look forward to getting to know you better when you return.”

Rapp followed Kennedy off the plane and walked her across the tarmac. They stopped midway between the two planes, where Rapp asked, “What’d you think?”

“It’s impossible to know someone’s heart after talking to him for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, I know, but what’s your impression?”

“I think he’s worth the risk.” Kennedy looked back at Rapp’s plane and then added, “But if he makes one wrong move, if you get even the slightest whiff, I want you to put him down. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good.” Kennedy kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck and don’t do anything stupid.”

Chapter 56

Inter-Services Intelligence HQ, Islamabad, Pakistan

Kennedy entered Air Force General Ahmed Taj’s office with Mike Nash, who had flown in from Bagram. She had briefed him on Kassar back in the embassy’s secure conference room. Taj, Durrani, and Nassir were all decked out in their military uniforms, while Ashan was in a suit. Kennedy was pleased to see that Ashan was there, but noted that he did not look well.

The office was a grandiose affair, left over from the Brits, no doubt. It was easily four times bigger than Kennedy’s. The walls and ceiling were paneled in a dark wood and there were three large stone fireplaces. Bookcases dominated every wall and there were two flat-screen monitors, one by the large conference table and the other one by Taj’s desk. Taj and his three deputies were standing near the fireplace to their right. Kennedy walked over and said hello to each man.