"Right. Okay, I have to go."
"You have no place to go. Stay for lunch." She smiled and said, "The dessert today is early release dates."
She must have been thinking about that all morning. I smiled, but I guess it wasn't a sincere smile because she said, "Be happy, John." She assured me, "You'll be a new man in a week."
I kind of liked the man I was, even if nobody else did.
So it was a long afternoon in the hospital room, but I managed to look happy and share Kate's happiness.
Before I left, Kate said to me, "I feel so much better knowing you won't be out tonight."
"Me too."
"And before we leave, you will call Tom and tell him about Boris."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And make sure you're all packed Monday morning so we have time."
"For? Oh… yeah. Yeah." Finally, a plan I could approve of.
"See you tonight."
We kissed and I left.
Well, I had less than forty-eight hours before I was on my way into exile. I might have one, maybe two plays left before then.
Or I wasn't fully appreciating the fact that I'd been boxed in by the boss and the wife-the perfect one-two punch. This sucked.
Back in my apartment, I called Paresi to bitch about this turn of events, and to see if he'd go to bat for me. But my call went into his voice mail, so I left a message that was a nice balance of professional concern and personal disappointment. Plus, I threw in a few unspecified threats and ominous predictions of disaster. That usually gets the bosses rethinking what's best for the case, and what's best for themselves.
I then called Tom Walsh, but it was Saturday and apparently Tom wasn't taking business calls-not mine, anyway. I left a message that addressed his concerns, and I made a convincing argument for continuing the operation, or at the very least letting me back into the office to work the case. I was doing pretty well until I said, "And I'd appreciate it in the future if you'd speak to me before you spoke to my wife." I didn't want to end on a sour note, so I said, "Give me a call, and we can discuss this, man to man, instead of you going behind my back-" Whoops. "Call me."
I hung up.
I would have told him about Boris if he'd taken the call, and if he agreed with me that I needed to stay here, on the case. In any event, I'd tell him Tuesday, when Boris's time was up to see if Khalil tried to whack him. Unfortunately, I might be making that call to Tom from a cow pasture.
As I was getting ready for my evening visit to Bellevue, my house phone rang, and the Caller ID said "Blocked."
No one on the ATTF, including Paresi and Walsh, would normally call that number, and Kate's new cell phone wouldn't say "Blocked." So maybe it was my parents. Or hers. But they never came up "Blocked"-they came up "Nuisance Call."
Well, the best way to find out… I answered and said, "Corey."
Silence. I knew who it was.
A voice with an accent said, "It is me."
I didn't reply.
"Mr. Corey? It is Asad Khalil."
I replied in an even tone, "I've been expecting your call."
"I know you have." He said, "I found your number on your wife's cell phone, so I am calling to express my condolences on her death."
"That is really sick."
"And the death of your friend and colleague, Mr. Haytham."
"You also killed his wife and daughter. What kind of man are you?"
"I don't understand your question."
"You are going to burn in hell."
"No, you are going to burn in hell. I am going to live forever in Paradise."
I didn't respond. There was a silence on the phone, and I could hear traffic noises in the background. Then he said, "I told you three years ago that I would return, and you saw that I kept my promise." He added, "I am an imperfect man, Mr. Corey, and I do not keep all my promises, but when I promise to kill someone, I kill them."
Again, I didn't respond.
He reminded me, "You had more to say to me the last time I was here. Well, I know you are mourning the death of your wife, and that makes one… less talkative. And perhaps less arrogant and less insulting."
Again, I didn't respond, and let the silence continue.
CAU was not listening in on my calls, but they were monitoring my number, and they could trace any incoming calls to their source-which in this case, I was certain, was a cell phone.
As if he knew what I was thinking, he said to me, "I am now in a moving vehicle and soon this phone will be out the window." He added, "I have many phones, Mr. Corey. You will not find me that way."
"But I will find you. And kill you. I promise."
"You are not clever enough to find me, nor are you man enough to kill me. But I will find you and kill you."
"I'm not hiding, asshole. You know where I live, and where I work. If you had any balls, you'd have already tried. Instead, you kill defenseless women and murder men who have done nothing to you, and you also kill your countrymen who trust you. You're a fucking coward."
He didn't respond to that, and I thought he'd hung up, but I could still hear background noise.
Finally he said, "Did you think I was a coward when we all jumped from that aircraft? In fact, it was you who looked frightened."
"No, asshole, it was you who looked scared shitless when I popped off a few rounds at you. Did you piss your pants?"
He didn't respond directly to that, but he said in a less cool voice, "I told you I would kill that whore, and I did. And you watched her die, bleeding like a frightened lamb with her throat cut." He told me, "And I tasted her blood."
I took a deep breath and said, "Enough of your bullshit. We need to meet-"
"Unfortunately, we cannot meet this time. However, I promise you that I will be back. And I will kill you."
"Why are you running away?"
"I am not running away. I have finished my business here, except for you, and you can wait. And think about your fate."
"Are you frightened of me?"
"Mr. Corey, do not try to provoke me as you did last time. You made me angry, and that is why your wife is dead. And why you are as good as dead."
"We need to meet and finish this. Now. I will come alone-"
"Please. You are not speaking to an idiot. When we meet, I will pick the time and place, and I will be certain you are alone."
"Did you come all this way to tell me you're leaving?"
He replied, "For all you know, I am already gone. Or I could still be here, and I may change my mind and see you before I leave."
This was starting to sound like bullshit. He wanted me to believe two things-one, he was gone and I could relax, and two, he was still here and I should be very worried.
I said to him, "You should have tried to kill me when you had the chance, stupid."
"It is you, Mr. Corey, who is stupid if you think I would kill you so quickly, as I killed your wife. In fact, I have a more interesting death planned for you." He asked, "Would you like me to tell you?"
"If it makes you feel better about running away."
"Well, let us see if you feel better when you hear what I have planned for you." He told me, "First, I intend to cut off your genitals. Then I will cut off your face. I will peel it from your skull." He said, "The Taliban do that in Afghanistan, Mr. Corey. Have you seen those photographs? The man is alive, but he has no face-only two eyes staring out from his skull. So, of course, we cannot see his fear or his pain-but he can see his own skull in the mirror that we hold up to his eyes. And then we feed his face and his genitals to the dogs, and the man is left to kill himself. And they all kill themselves. Or they ask someone to kill them. Life would not be good without genitals or a face. Don't you agree? And that, Mr. Corey, is what I intend to do to you. The next time we meet. And I look forward to that. So, until then-"