The Last Man

Chapter 35
KENNEDY caught Rapp's doctor just as he was about to start his morning rounds. Major Nathan was a thirty-five-year-old neurosurgeon who spent two weeks of every month at Bagram and the other two at Sloan-Kettering in New York. He had a surprisingly affable bedside manner, for a brain surgeon. "Good morning, Major. Do you have a second to chat?"

"I was just heading to see Mr. Cox." The major smiled. "I don't suppose that's his real name?"

In a rare moment of honesty, Kennedy shook her head. "I was wondering if you could tell me how he's doing?"

"Much better. According to his recent scan, there's been a drastic reduction in swelling."

"Do you think he's ready to fly?"

Major Nathan winced and shook his head. "These head cases are tricky, they're all unique. Some patients bounce back after a few days, some people never bounce back."

"So he could fly if he had to?"

The major sighed. "If he absolutely has to, yes, but I'd like to give it a few more days."

Kennedy frowned.

"What's the problem?"

"I can't really talk about it, but let's just say Mr. Cox is extremely good at his job and we need him." Kennedy wanted him back, but she also wanted to put Rapp somewhere where Joel Wilson couldn't get his hands on him.

The major had immediately recognized Kennedy when one of the nurses had brought her into his office the day before. She explained politely that his newest patient was one of her top operatives. Nathan had already guessed that Mr. Cox was no mere analyst. It was standard procedure for the staff to cut the clothes off emergency patients, since they only got in the way. Mr. Cox had no open wounds, but Nathan counted three bullet holes and a scar that looked like it had come from a knife. Even the nurses commented. His battle scars, combined with his rock-hard physique, made the deduction simple. Nathan had rotated in and out of Bagram for nine straight months. He had pretty much seen it all. Or at least he thought he had. Mr. Cox was something of an anomaly.

Nathan understood that Kennedy held a unique position. If he could, he would try to help her. "Why don't we go see how he's doing, and then we can reassess."

They found Rapp sitting up in his bed with a tray of food in front of him, watching an episode of Justified. After some brief pleasantries the doctor looked at his chart and asked, "How do you feel this morning, Mr. Cox?"

"Better," Rapp said, moving his head around. "No headache, and I've got my appetite back."

The doctor scribbled a few notes on the chart. "That's good. How's your memory?"

"Pretty good." Rapp pointed at the TV. "I know that I've seen this episode before and I remember most of the characters . . . Dewey Crowe, Boyd Crowder, Raylan Givens, Art Mullen, and Dickie Bennett."

"Good show?" Nathan asked, without looking up.

"I think I'm the wrong guy to ask, Doc. I really don't have much to compare it to."

Nathan laughed. "And your recall in general?"

"Seems like it's getting a lot better."

"All right, where'd you go to college?"

"Syracuse."

Nathan rattled off the same questions he'd given Rapp late yesterday. Mother's maiden name, grade school, high school, childhood best friend, and on and on. Unlike yesterday, he got them all correct today. Nathan decided to expand the list. "First job out of college?"

Rapp gave Kennedy a strange look and then told Nathan he didn't know.

"Current job?"

"I think I'm an assassin." Rapp watched his doctor look up with wide eyes. "I'm just kidding, Doc. I work for the CIA and if I tell you any more than that, I'll have to . . ."

"Kill me," Nathan finished the sentence for him.

"Exactly."

Nathan glanced sideways at Kennedy. "Is he always this funny?"

Kennedy was relieved that he was coming back. She smiled and shook her head. "He's never had much of a sense of humor."

Before Rapp could comment, Nathan asked, "Favorite color?"

"Blue . . . I think."

"Wife . . . kids?"

The smile fell from Rapp's face and his entire bearing changed. He didn't answer for a long time and then he looked at Kennedy for help.

Kennedy had been dreading this. It was hard enough to live through it once. It couldn't be easy learning it for a second time. It was obvious from the pained expression on his face that he remembered something about the tragedy. "Your wife," Kennedy started, and then stopped.

Nathan picked up on the mood and nodded for Kennedy to continue. "All memories are important . . . the good ones and the bad ones."

"I remember," Rapp said, his voice almost disembodied. "Her name was Anna and she was pregnant."

Kennedy nodded slowly.

Caught up in the story, Nathan asked, "How did she die?"

"I don't think we want to talk about this right now."

Rapp looked up and said, "She was murdered."

"I'm sorry," Nathan answered softly.

There was a long silence and then Rapp began to frown as if something was occurring to him for the first time.

"What is it?" Nathan asked.

Kennedy thought she knew what it was and she stepped forward. "I think this is enough for now."

Rapp shook his head as if trying to free a jumbled thought. "There's a face. A man I know, but I can't remember his name. He has something to do with my wife, but I can't make it connect."

Kennedy chastised herself for not consulting with Dr. Lewis. Thomas Lewis was their in-house psychologist. He had worked very closely with Rapp over the years, and it was likely that he could offer insight about how they should handle this unique situation. Between Rickman, Hubbard, and Wilson showing up, she'd simply forgotten to call Lewis. Her fear that Rapp would kill Gould was not unfounded, and she wasn't even sure she would object to it, but Major Nathan had warned them that Rapp didn't need any undue stress until his condition was stabilized.

There was a knock on the doorframe and she turned to see Coleman with a welcome expression. The retired SEAL had blond hair, blue eyes, and dimples, which gave him a boyish look at times. This morning, however, his sharp jaw was set in a way that she had seen many times before. He had news that she was waiting for.

"Please excuse me for a second." Kennedy left the room and stepped into the hallway with Coleman. "Wilson?"

"Yep. We had both his phones dialed in but he wasn't using them. We found out which trailer he was staying in and bugged it while he was at dinner last night. I'm still trying to get my hands on his laptop, but no luck so far. About thirty minutes ago one of his agents wakes him up and hands him a phone. It was Hargrave on the line, and although it's a one-sided conversation, it's pretty obvious Wilson is getting his ass handed to him." Coleman held up his iPhone. "I've got it all right here for you. Would you like the highlights first?"

"Please."

"Wilson claims to have received an anonymous package at work that contained evidence that Rick and Mitch were siphoning off cash and putting it into personal accounts in Zurich."

Kennedy frowned. With Rickman it was a possibility, but not with Mitch. No way. The man had his own money. He didn't need to steal cash from Langley.

"It sounded like Hargrave pressed Wilson pretty hard. Wilson claims to have account numbers, dates of transfers, and a sworn affidavit from the banker, who says Mitch came into his bank and set up the account."

"Do we know who this banker is?"

"Not yet, but we'll keep digging. There's one more thing. Wilson's been recalled, and he didn't take it well. He told Hargrave that everyone knows he's too close to you and when he's done proving that Rick and Mitch were stealing funds, he's going to make sure Hargrave goes down."

Kennedy was thinking about Hargrave. Sam was a good man. Trying to manage an ego like Wilson was going to drive him to an early grave. "When is he leaving?"

"About two hours, from the way they're talking. He's really throwing Hargrave under the bus to his people. I mean the type of shit that could land his ass in some serious hot water."

"Maybe we'll send an anonymous package of our own."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"Any chance you can get your hands on his computer before he leaves?"

Coleman thought about it for a second. "I'll try, but it's unlikely. I'm not worried, though. Marcus can do this shit in his sleep."

Kennedy nodded. "Have Marcus start poking around their database. See what he can find out."

"Will do."

Both Kennedy and Coleman looked up to see Hayek coming down the hall. She was moving at a good clip, and as she drew to within a few steps she shook her head and said, "I screwed up."