Vince Flynn - Extreme Measures

“I don’t give a shit about any of it. It’s all a fucking sideshow. You know what two of those guys smell like?”

“No.”

“Barbecue, Mike. They smell like burnt meat. How much do you want to bet they’re the ones who fucking torched Johnson?”

Nash looked up at the balcony where the four men had been taken and said, “Let’s get this done before the suits show up.”

AN ashen-faced analyst stood outside the conference room door and tried her best to ignore the loud but muffled noises that were coming from inside the room. She’d been asked by Mike Nash to stand there and wait. She’d asked him, “For what?” and his reply had been a simple one-word answer: “Information.”

It had been five minutes, and while she had no sympathy for the man who was being interrogated, it was very uncomfortable to know that it was her boss in there who was doing a good deal of the shouting and God only knew what else.

Suddenly the door opened and Nash appeared with a piece of paper. “Run those names through TIDE and call me on the conference room phone as soon as you get a hit.”

TIDE was the database they operated. It stood for Terrorist Information Datamart Environment.

“Hurry up,” Nash ordered, before closing the door. At the far end of the conference table Aabad bin Baaz was sitting in a chair with his hands still bound behind his back, tears streaming down his cheeks, his thick black hair sticking out in different directions.

Rapp put both hands on the table and said, “Aabad, I swear to you, the biggest computer in the world is chewing up those names right now, and if it comes up empty… the arm is coming out of the socket.”

“I have not lied. Those are their names. You can go ask them.”

“Of course I could go ask them,” Rapp said in a reasonable tone, “but how do I know they’re not going to give me some bullshit name that you guys have agreed on?”

“I am telling you the truth. It was just the four of us.”

Without any warning, Rapp wound up and cracked him across the back of the head with an open hand. Aabad let out a yelp like a scared dog.

“I told you,” Rapp warned him, “every time a lie comes out of your mouth, I’m going to smack you. Let’s go back to last night. During evening prayer you said you found my guy poking around in the basement of the mosque. Rashid, the big, stupid idiot, offered to torture my guy and you took him up on it.”

“Yes.”

“You then found out he was CIA, so Rashid killed him, rolled him up in a prayer rug, stuffed him in a trunk, drove him to an abandoned lot, and lit the thing on fire, but you weren’t there for that part.”

“Yes!” Aabad nodded enthusiastically.

“So between then and the time we ran into you, you and your little four-man terrorist cell managed to place three separate car bombs around the city, get back to the mosque, and make your break for…” It occurred to Rapp that he hadn’t bothered to ask one obvious question. “Where in the hell were you headed, Aabad?”

“The airport.”

“Which one?”

“Baltimore.”

“Ticket already purchased?”

“Yes.”

Nash snapped his fingers and jerked his head toward the far corner.

The two walked over and Nash whispered to Rapp, “He’s full of shit. Twenty minutes ago Treasury called. They took a look at their 15th Street cameras. They have the whole thing on tape. A FedEx van pulled up in front of Bobby Van’s at 12:29. The driver jumped out and started running north with a package in his hand. Twenty-six seconds later the van exploded. You had eyes on all four of these guys. They were a mile away at the mosque. Can’t be in two places at once. How much do you want to bet the other two blasts went down the same way, which means there were at least three more guys involved… probably more than that.”

Rapp looked back over his shoulder at Aabad, who was nervously watching them. “All right,” Rapp said, “I’m done fucking around.” He walked back over to the prisoner and said, “Aabad, you know what I think… that gerbil in your underdeveloped brain? I don’t think he can run fast enough on that wheel to keep up with all your lies.”

It was obvious by the confused look on Aabad’s face that he hadn’t followed a word that Rapp had said.

“What he’s saying,” Nash said, moving in to translate, “is that you’re too fucking stupid to run an operation like this, and on top of all of that, you definitely aren’t smart enough to keep all your lies straight.”

“I am not lying!” Aabad screamed.

“Give me the other names,” Rapp said in a no-nonsense tone.

“I have given you all the names.”

“All right,” Rapp said without missing a beat, “here is how this is going to go down. I’m going to dislocate your right shoulder. I already told you,” Rapp said as he registered the look of horror on Aabad’s face, “it was not dislocated. Just a minor separation, which is proof, that in addition to being stupid, you’re also a puss.”

“I have not lied,” he whimpered.

“Shut up and listen to me.”

Before Rapp could finish, there was a knock on the door. Nash walked over and opened it a crack. Harris was looking back at him, and without wasting a second, he said, “They’re downstairs in the lobby,” and then walked away.

Nash walked and whispered the news in Rapp’s ear. Rapp turned his attention back to Aabad. “I’ve dislocated my shoulder before, and I can honestly say it’s one of the most painful things I’ve ever gone through. There’s a good chance you will vomit or pass out or both, in which case I’d gladly watch you choke on it and die right here. So!” Rapp yelled as he clapped his hands together. “Last chance!”

“I have told you everything,” Aabad pleaded.

“Wrong answer.” Rapp shoved Aabad’s face down onto the table and grabbed his cuffed wrists. With both elbows locked, Rapp torqued the wrists up and toward Aabad’s head until there was a loud pop.

Aabad howled in pain. So loud in fact, that Nash walked over to the door and leaned against it in case someone tried to come in.

Rapp bent to within inches of Aabad’s face and said, “I can put it back into the socket in two seconds. All you have to do is tell who the real brains was behind this operation.”

Aabad was now crying in agony.

“I can make it go away. Tell me right now.” Rapp waited a second then lifted the arms again.”

Aabad somehow managed to scream even louder this time.

“I know about the FedEx vans. You lied to me!” Rapp screamed.

Aabad had snot flowing out of his nose and tears streaming down his face. He mumbled something, but it came out completely unintelligible.

“Say the name and I can make all the pain go away.”

“Karim,” Aabad cried.

“Karim who?” Rapp grabbed his wrists just in case Aabad was thinking of not following through.

“Karim Nour-al-Din.”

Rapp took a knife from his belt, flipped the blade out, and cut the plastic flex cuffs. After stowing the knife, he sat Aabad up and leaned him back in the chair. “Don’t move,” he ordered. “This will only take a second.” Rapp grabbed Aabad’s right wrist and pulled it up and across his body. Placing his other hand on Aabad’s good shoulder, he gave the bad arm a yank, and the ball slid back into the socket.

“Keep an eye on him,” he said to Nash. To Aabad he said, “Give him the rest of the names. I’ll be back in five minutes. If the name you just gave me is bullshit, or you haven’t come up with the rest of the names, I’ll go to work on the other shoulder.”

Rapp left the conference room, closed the door behind him, and rushed down the spiral staircase to meet the delegation from the Justice Department and the FBI.