Brad Taylor - Enemy of Mine

I strained my ears, trying to determine if he’d entered or not. He said the same thing in Arabic again, clearly suspicious. Then I heard what sounded like a piece of lumber hitting a wall.

I breached the doorway and saw Decoy dragging an unconscious Arab into the room from the landing.

He said, “He was about to leave. I clocked him with the door. I didn’t think it would knock him out, but it did. Lucky he didn’t fall down the damn stairs.”

I closed the entrance door while Knuckles and Decoy searched him, finding key cards and identification for the Burj Khalifa but little else. I radioed Brett and gave him a status, asking him to check out any reaction on the lower landings.

He came back moments later. “You’re good to go, but I’m claiming this fake watch. Had to buy it to support my reason for being in the stairwell a second time.”

“Let me guess. You got the gold Submariner.”

“Hell no. Omega Seamaster. That’s what James Bond wears.”

Chuckling, Decoy and Knuckles tied up then gagged the unconscious man. I filled a glass with water from the bathroom sink and splashed it in his face. He woke up instantly, whipping his head left and right. Seeing white boys, he attempted to leap to his feet and found he was trussed like a pig for slaughter. His eyes grew wide, the terror clearly evident. His hands began to tremble in the flex-cuffs like a man with Parkinson’s disease. It wasn’t the reaction of a master terrorist.

He’s never been in the arena. Never done any operational acts.

It changed my approach. I had planned on using the information we knew to try to elicit more data from him, tripping him up with my supposed omniscience. I figured there was no way he would freely give me anything, and I would have to outwit him using trickery. He had no idea what I did or didn’t know, and I hoped for him to give me something new because he thought I already had it, as a stalling tactic.

That interrogation plan had been based on a hardened terrorist. Someone who understood the risks and the pain that would come if he were captured. A terrorist like that could resist pressure for a great while. We only had about an hour to figure out what was going on, not nearly enough time for any sort of physical threat or action to sway a man who’s prepared and has the strength of will to resist. Now, seeing the man cower, I decided to go full bore as the mean guy, see if he would crack.

I put on my best Shrek face and leaned in close. “Tell me you don’t speak English and I’ll rip out your tongue. Understand?”

He nodded his head vigorously.

“We’ve been hired by Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid to track a man called the Ghost. He’s here to kill an American. We know he’s using the Burj Khalifa for the attack. We’ve watched you for days and know you are also involved.”

Hell, might as well throw a little omniscience in there as well.

He shook his head violently. Time for the bad guy.

“Hand me the pliers.” Knuckles gave me a pair of vise grips he’d found in the back. I held them up to his nose, so close he could smell the grease on them.

“Don’t shake your head again. What I told you is fact. Denying it doesn’t make it go away. I’m first going to crush your toes with these pliers. Then your fingers. Eventually, I’ll work my way to your genitals. The duration is up to you, but I assure you that you have enough appendages to keep me busy for quite a while. Do you understand?”

His eyes grew wet, and a single tear tracked down his cheek. He squeezed them shut and nodded. Success.

To solidify it, I went to good cop. “Tell me what I want to know, and I won’t harm you at all. I have no desire for that. I simply want to stop the attack. You work with me, and you walk away with your life, your limbs intact. Understand?”

He opened his eyes, wanting to believe what I said, but unsure. I could see the walls breaking inside him. He nodded again, with more force.

I returned to bad cop. “Lie to me, even once, and the pain will be immediate. I know quite a bit of what’s been planned. You people have been sloppy. You say something wrong, and I might start with your penis.”

Decoy removed his gag, and the man began talking. A fountain of information that we couldn’t have shut off if we tried. Within six minutes I was sure we had everything the man knew, and the information wasn’t pretty.

After he grew quiet, I said, “You’ve done well. I’m going to untie you now. You’ll be coming with us.”

He looked confused and said, “I thought you would leave if I told you everything?”

“I’ll leave when your information pans out. If it doesn’t, I’ll be your personal nightmare. Hold out your wrists.”

He did so, and I saw his brain working. Wondering why we would uncuff him if we really worked for the sheikh of Dubai.

“I’m setting your hands free because I can’t have anyone talking about this in the souk. I don’t want word to spread that you’ve been taken. You must act naturally all the way to our vehicle. If you don’t, you will disappear. Understand?”

He nodded, I cut his wrist ties, and Decoy pushed him to the door. I said, “Get him to the van. I’m calling Blaine.”

Bundling him out the door, Knuckles said, “You had me convinced he was in for some pain. What were you going to do if he clammed up?”

“Nothing. Just bag him.”

I let them get down the stairs, then dialed the TOC.

“Sir, I’ve got most of what’s going on. The attack’s at the Burj Khalifa, like we thought, but it isn’t any frontal assault. They’re using the elevators. The guy doesn’t know how-he’s really a maintenance man-but he helped the Ghost get access to the elevator shafts. I’m headed there now.”

“Can you defeat it before they get there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have an accurate itinerary. Just call Kurt and tell him to relay not to use the elevators in the Burj Khalifa.”

“Doing it now. Get your ass moving. According to what I have, he’s either there or en route.”

I made it to the van without issues, seeing all three of my teammates outside arguing.

“What’s the problem? We need to move.”

They all looked at me sheepishly, then Knuckles cracked open the sliding door, allowing me to see inside. One man was trussed on the floor, a bag on his head. It was the guy we had just captured.

“Where the fuck is Lucas?”

I knew the answer even before I asked the question.

Knuckles held up a carbon-fiber knife with a broken blade. “Gone. Like the last time we had him. I knew we shouldn’t have left him alone.”

Jesus Christ. That guy is Houdini. I remembered Jennifer was in his hotel room and immediately dialed her phone. It went to voice mail.

Decoy said, “We already called her. No joy.”

Every fiber in my body was screaming to get back to the Bustan Rotana, to get her to safety. The men were all waiting for a decision, wondering which way I would go after my call in Lebanon.

McMasters was on the way to the Burj Khalifa, and the Ghost was already there. But Jennifer was in real danger. Lucas, while he had apparently told us the truth about his mission, was a psychopath. A threat on the loose.

The mistake in Lebanon surfaced in my mind, when I’d almost compromised the mission because I’d been afraid for her welfare.

She’s trained. She can handle herself. He’s probably not even going back to his hotel.

“Load up. We’re going to the Burj Khalifa. Keep trying to call her while we drive.”

Seeing that Lucas had wiped the history of his Internet usage, Jennifer powered down the laptop and inserted a thumb drive into a USB port. Turning it back on, the forensics device began to troll for random bits of data in the BIOS and hard drive of the computer. Within minutes, she had a list of websites used in the past twenty-four hours. Four were for hotels around the main train station in Frankfurt, Germany. Three were for different travel websites.