Vince Flynn: Extreme Measures

For at least the tenth time in as many minutes, Leland went over his options. If he woke him up, and it turned out to be nothing, Garrison would make his glum job downright miserable. If he didn’t wake him, though, and the rumors proved to be true… Leland shuddered at the mere thought of what would happen. He remembered the senators who had been at the base earlier in the week. Leland had gone out of his way to smooth things over and make sure the politicians had everything they needed. Garrison wasn’t about to do it. He hated the politicians and dignitaries who came rolling through his base for a photo op so they could tell their constituents or friends that they had been over there, that they’d been to the war zone and survived.

So it was up to Leland to kiss their asses. He knew how the game was played. Powerful senators regularly lobbied on behalf of the officers they liked. Leland had promised them that the prisoners would be treated humanely and by the book. One of the senators had told him they’d better be or she would haul his ass before the Armed Services Committee and eat him for lunch.

Leland thought about the senator’s words as he laid out his options yet again. If he woke him up, and it was for nothing, Garrison would go nuts. He was scheduled to go on leave in ten days and planned to meet a couple of academy buddies in Istanbul. He’d been looking forward to it for months. If this turned out to be nothing, Garrison wouldn’t hesitate to punish him by canceling his leave. If he let him sleep, on the other hand, and the rumors turned out to be true, the man would do a lot more than cancel his leave. He would probably have him transferred to one of the tiny firebases up in the mountains where he could expect to be shelled once or twice a day. Leland took a deep breath and made his decision. A firebase was a far worse punishment than missing Istanbul.

Leland moved quickly now. He didn’t want to lose his nerve. He tapped lightly on the door, even though he knew it would do no good. The general was a sound sleeper. Gently opening the door, Leland walked over to the bed and cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, sir.” The general kept snoring, so Leland reached out and repeated himself. The general didn’t stir. Leland grimaced and lightly touched the general’s shoulder.

General Garrison flinched and made a loud snorting noise as he snatched a breath. He rolled over and said, “What… who is it?”

“It’s me, Captain Leland, sir.”

“Leland, what in the hell do you want?” Garrison growled through a dry throat. “I thought I told you not to disturb me.”

“You did, sir, but there’s something… something that I thought I should bring to your attention.” He took a step back.

“Something,” General Garrison said in an irritated voice as he sat up. “This had better be good, Captain, or you’re going to be out calling in close air support for the rest of your tour.”

Leland took a dry gulp, his worst fears confirmed. It seemed he would never be able to satisfy the man. “A plane arrived shortly after midnight, sir.”

“Planes arrive all the time,” Garrison snarled. “This is an air base, Captain. That’s what happens… planes land and planes take off.”

Leland was suddenly regretting his decision, but there was no turning back. “I think it might involve the prisoners, sir. The two high-value ones.”

The news had a sobering affect on the general. “What do you mean, the two prisoners?”

“The plane was an Air Force G III. Six men deplaned, all wearing BDU’s. They had two Humvees waiting for them.”

“Who are they?”

Leland grew increasingly nervous. The next piece of information had been passed along as a rumor. “I have not been able to verify this, sir, but I was told by someone on the flight line that the men are from the Office of Special Investigations.”

Garrison threw back his blanket and swung his feet onto the floor. After mumbling a few curses he looked up at his aide and said, “Office of Special Investigations?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long have you known?”

“About forty minutes, sir.”

The general stood. “Air Force Office of Special Investigations arrives on my base, unannounced, in the middle of the night, and it takes you forty minutes to notify me.”

Leland stood ramrod straight and looked over the top of the general’s head. “Sir, you left specific orders not to be disturbed.”

“I left specific orders not to be bothered with all of the trivial bullshit that you think is important. When the Office of Special Investigations shows up in the middle of the night, it’s about as bad as it gets for a CO. It ranks just an ass hair under a plane crashing or attack on the base.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Where are they now?”

“I’m not sure, sir, but I think they might be at the Hilton.”

Garrison was in the midst of pulling on his flight suit. He stopped with both feet in and fixed a stare on the young captain. “The Hilton?”

“Yes, sir.”

The anger spread across the general’s face. “How in the hell did you ever graduate from the United States Air Force Academy?”

NASH and Rapp had made it clear to General Dostum that, as much as they would like to hand al-Haq over to him, it was not going to happen. The general was reluctant at first, but when Rapp offered to deposit a sizable amount of cash in his bank in Geneva, the general agreed to the plan with enthusiasm. Their little charade had been rehearsed in advance, and was so far proceeding according to plan. Nash reasoned that once al-Haq agreed to talk, Dostum would be the perfect person to initiate the interrogation. The two men had fought alongside each other for eleven years. Al-Haq had committed his unforgivable sin during a pitched battle against the Taliban for the city of Mazar-i-Sharif. When it became obvious that the Taliban was going to carry the day, al-Haq crossed over with his men and switched his allegiance. Dostum was forced to retreat and eventually flee the country. Al-Haq would think long and hard before he lied to his former friend.

Nash and Rapp monitored the first few minutes of the session from a one-way viewing window. When it was obvious that Dostum wasn’t going to choke al-Haq to death, Nash relaxed a bit. His plan was to move onto the other prisoner while Dostum got things rolling. He turned and looked at Marcus Dumond, who was sitting behind the watch desk. Rapp had brought him from Langley. The thirty-one-year-old was the Clandestine Service’s resident genius when it came to security systems and computers.

“You getting all this?” Nash asked.

“Yep,” Dumond answered.

“And you have control of the cameras? Base security isn’t catching any of this?”

Rapp had made Dumond shave his Afro for the trip, and he couldn’t stop rubbing his newly polished head. He looked at Nash the same way he looked at anyone who dared question his ability to work magic.

“Base security is looking at a one-hour loop from every camera in this facility. I am recording the interrogations, both audio and video, onto this flash drive.” Dumond held up a small silver box no bigger than a checkbook.

“Good.” Nash turned back to Rapp and said, “Are you ready for a little fire and brimstone?”

“In a minute. Where do they keep the towels?”

“Storage closet over here.” Nash led Rapp down another hall and opened the door to a janitor’s closet where fresh orange coveralls, bedding, and towels for the prisoners were kept. Rapp grabbed a towel and wet it in the mop sink.

Already concerned over the cut above Haggani’s eye, Nash asked, “What do you have in mind?”

Rapp wrung out the towel and said, “You’ve seen his type before. The only thing you can do is beat on him until he heels.”