“Sorry, but that call was from Cap’s hospital. It’s an emergency, Babs.”

Lou knocked twice and opened the door an instant before Filstrup gruffly invited him in.

“Sorry to butt in, boss, but I just got a call from Arbor General in Atlanta. Cap’s getting toxic from a wound infection. His condition has started to deteriorate.”

Seated behind his immaculate desk, Filstrup, wearing his typically wrinkle-free white dress shirt and power-red tie, lowered his glasses and eyed Lou with a chilly look.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes … Well, they’ve asked me to come down to Atlanta. I’m quite worried.”

“To dash away from your job, you must be very worried,” Filstrup said, sounding not at all worried or even that interested.

“I’m certainly concerned,” Lou said. “As you know, he’s the best friend I have. I give him credit for turning my life around. I’ll take some work with me. Nothing that will violate any confidentiality, of course, but I’ll get stuff done.”

“No need,” Filstrup said.

“There’s a lot to catch up on,” Lou said. “I realize I’m behind, but I’ll make up the time. From what his surgeon said, Cap needs me there.”

“That’s fine,” Filstrup said. “But there’s no need for you to take any work.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you understand. There’s no need for you to take your work with you because you no longer have a job here.”

“Walter, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re fired, Dr. Welcome. Now, go pack up your desk. I wouldn’t want you to miss your flight back to Atlanta.”

Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

It is not our nature to suffer, and most of those who are offered government handouts in place of effort will take them.

—LANCASTER R. HILL, Climb the Mountain, SAWYER RIVER BOOKS, 1941, P. II

Kazimi had never seen anything like the Great Room.

While growing up in Kohat City, in the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan, he believed all homes were made from dusty brown clay bricks. The densely clustered buildings of his youth were still etched in his heart and mind. As he grew older, he escaped his daily travails through books, and began to excel in school. Finally, he was accepted as an exchange student in Los Angeles, and from there, off to Stanford.

Kazimi loved America … much of it, at any rate.

The over-the-top opulence of Red Cliff and its whiskey-gulping master were well more than he could take. Doug Bacon, and his dedication to eliminating programs assisting the poor, was an anathema to Kazimi as was One Hundred Neighbors, the extremist organization he embodied. And despite his captor’s self-important attempt to use Kazimi’s religion to enlist his help, the overriding consideration for him was still escape.