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.”
Mahmoud beamed with pride.
“Yes, I love American shoes. It’s very difficult to get Nike brand in Afghanistan. Usually it’s only Puma, sometimes Reeboks.”
“Nice.”
Finn caught up to Camp and Henry as they walked down the other fluorescent-lit corridor past recovery and the sick bay. Miriam walked closely behind.
“What do you figure they pay a government physician from Kabul to work at the Afghan Army hospital in Paktya?” asked Finn.
“Two hundred, maybe two hundred and fifty US dollars a month,” Captain Henry responded as Camp rounded the corner into the surgical recovery room.
“Looks like Doc Mahmoud just came into a bit of a windfall then. Even on the black market those Jordans had to set him back a hundred,” Finn added. “What do you think Camp, just a lucky guy?”
“What do I think? I think it was a number seven beaver…a surgical scalpel for internal organs. Precise and accurate. They could have cut him deep and separated his neck from his jawbone. But Dr. Mahmoud wasn’t even stitched up after they slit his throat. He was lucky alright, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.”
Miriam kept her head down and remained focused as the four walked through the recovery room.
“We need more answers. Who else can we talk to?” Camp asked.
“Checkpoint guards?” Captain Henry offered.
“What about the colonel who runs the commandos? They said it was his wife?” Camp asked.
“How about the commanding general? It’s his base. Nothing gets on, nothing gets off, unless he knows about it,” Finn added.
“What about some grunts and medics, regular Afghan Joes that work around the hospital?”
“Captain Campbell, our Army medic team is doing trauma and triage training drills with their Afghan counterparts next Tuesday morning. Might be a good time to ask some
“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.”
Mahmoud beamed with pride.
“Yes, I love American shoes. It’s very difficult to get Nike brand in Afghanistan. Usually it’s only Puma, sometimes Reeboks.”
“Nice.”
Finn caught up to Camp and Henry as they walked down the other fluorescent-lit corridor past recovery and the sick bay. Miriam walked closely behind.
“What do you figure they pay a government physician from Kabul to work at the Afghan Army hospital in Paktya?” asked Finn.
“Two hundred, maybe two hundred and fifty US dollars a month,” Captain Henry responded as Camp rounded the corner into the surgical recovery room.
“Looks like Doc Mahmoud just came into a bit of a windfall then. Even on the black market those Jordans had to set him back a hundred,” Finn added. “What do you think Camp, just a lucky guy?”
“What do I think? I think it was a number seven beaver…a surgical scalpel for internal organs. Precise and accurate. They could have cut him deep and separated his neck from his jawbone. But Dr. Mahmoud wasn’t even stitched up after they slit his throat. He was lucky alright, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.”
Miriam kept her head down and remained focused as the four walked through the recovery room.
“We need more answers. Who else can we talk to?” Camp asked.
“Checkpoint guards?” Captain Henry offered.
“What about the colonel who runs the commandos? They said it was his wife?” Camp asked.
“How about the commanding general? It’s his base. Nothing gets on, nothing gets off, unless he knows about it,” Finn added.
“What about some grunts and medics, regular Afghan Joes that work around the hospital?”
“Captain Campbell, our Army medic team is doing trauma and triage training drills with their Afghan counterparts next Tuesday morning. Might be a good time to ask some
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