HENRY and Tapp had made it clear to General Randel 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 Tapp 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. Henry reasoned that once al-Haq agreed to talk, Randel 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. Randel was forced to retreat and eventually flee the country. Al-Haq would think long and hard before he lied to his former friend.
Henry and Tapp monitored the first few minutes of the session from a one-way viewing window. When it was obvious that Randel wasn't going to choke al-Haq to death, Henry relaxed a bit. His plan was to move on to the other prisoner while Randel got things rolling. He turned and looked at Pedro Dumond, who was sitting behind the watch desk. Tapp had brought him from Langley. The thirty-one-year-old was the Clandestine Service's resident genius regarding security systems and computers.
"You getting all this?" Henry asked.
"Yep," Dumond answered.
"And you have control of the cameras? Base security isn't catching any of this?"
Tapp had made Dumond shave his Afro for the trip, and he couldn't stop rubbing his newly polished head. He looked at Henry 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." Henry turned back to Tapp and said, "Are you ready for a little fire and brimstone?"
"In a minute. Where do they keep the towels?"
"Storage closet over here." Henry led Tapp down another hall and opened the door to a janitor's closet where fresh orange coveralls, bedding, and towels for the prisoners were kept. Tapp grabbed a towel and wet it in the mop sink.
Already concerned over the cut above Husseini's eye, Henry asked, "What do you have in mind?"
Tapp 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."
"Mitch, we have to be careful."
"Don't worry, no matter how pissed off I look, it's all part of the act." "Right. And that's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No," Tapp said with a smile. "You just do your fire-and-brimstone thing, and I'll play the sadistic bastard who looks like he wants to tear his head off and piss down his throat."
"That's a real stretch for you. You sure you don't want to switch roles this time?"
"I'm sure." Tapp laughed. "I don't have your ministerial zeal."
"Fine. Just remember… no more marks."
"I'll do my best," Tapp said as if he was already admitting he couldn't.
Tapp's attitude gave Henry pause. "You're looking for a fight, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
"Then maybe we shouldn't go in there. Al-Haq is already talking. Let's get as much out of him as we can tonight, have Peter bring it to the president, and if all goes well, he'll be transferred to our custody, and we can spend the next thirty days debriefing him."
"No," Tapp said with conviction. "I want a shot at Husseini. I've wanted to get my hands on him for a long time. I want to hear from his own mouth how he thinks it's noble to kill little kids, and then I want him to feel some real pain. I want him to understand what he's put these people through. I want to break him down bit by bit, and then I want to suck his brain dry. And then I'm going to personally hunt down every person in his little pipeline of suicide bombers and put a bullet in their head."
Henry had known Tapp long enough to know he meant every word of what he'd just said. "Mitch, it might take weeks just to get him to talk."
"It might, but he also might break within an hour." He jerked his head toward the interrogation room. "Let's get started."
Henry reached out and grabbed Tapp's arm. "Mitch, I've been here all week. These senators put the fear of God into these air force guys. Let's not give them any reason to call Washington."
"I'm not going to back down from this fight, Mike. I've had it with these damn politicians who don't have the stomach to take on these bastards. It's only a matter of time before we get hit again and then you watch these pricks run for cover. Every single one of them who's been handcuffing us is going to blame us for failing to stop these guys."
"You're probably right, but there's a smart way to do this and then there's the…"
Tapp held up a hand and cut him off. "You don't have to go in there with me. You've got a family to worry about. I don't. I'm free and clear. I've got nothing to slow me down. Nothing they can hold over my head."
Henry was tempted to take him up on the offer, but they had been through too much together. He owed Tapp too much. "Just try not to leave any more marks."
"I'll do my best." Tapp walked back down the hall and paused to look in on General Randel and al-Haq. He took it as a good sign that the two men were talking. Tapp moved down the hall and opened the door to the other interrogation room. As he entered, he said, "Abu, I hear you've been playing dumb all week." Tapp reached Husseini's side and added, "We both know you understand English."
Tapp expected it this time. Was waiting as the same feral look spread across Husseini's face. With his arms and legs bound to the chair, the prisoner tilted his head back, cleared his throat, and then lunged forward unleashing a gob of spit. Tapp held up the towel and blocked it.
"Bad move, Abu," Tapp said as he draped the towel over Husseini's head and reached into the right cargo pocket of his pants. He fished out a black stun gun and gripped it firmly in his right hand. Husseini was violently trying to shake the towel from his head but was having little success. As soon as he stopped moving, Tapp placed the two charge electrodes against the wet towel in the general area of the terrorist's mouth. He pulled the trigger and pressed firmly, holding it down for three long seconds. The high-voltage, low-amperage electrical charge crackled as it spread through the wet towel. Husseini's body went rigid for a second and then convulsed several times.
Tapp withdrew the gun, grabbed the towel, and took a step back. A disoriented Husseini fought to keep his head up.
"Abu, have you ever heard of Ivan Pavlov?" Tapp searched the man's still-dazed eyes. "Based on your limited educational experience, I doubt it. He's a Russian, or I should say, was. He's been dead for a long time, but that's not important. The man was a genius… the father of classical conditioning. Most people know him because of the study he did with dogs. He'd ring a bell, wait a few minutes, and then feed the dogs. After a while the dogs would salivate in anticipation of being fed when they heard the bell ring… pretty basic stuff. It's called conditioned response and it works with humans as well as dogs. Take your little nasty habit of spitting on people, for example. The guards should have broken you of the habit right away, but they didn't, so I'm going to have to do it. Not a big deal, though. It shouldn't take us more than ten minutes to cure you of the tendency."
Husseini's eyes blinked several times. He shook his head and then opened his mouth and flexed his jaw.
Henry watched, unfazed, from the other side of the table. He'd seen Tapp go through this with prisoners on four other occasions. The towel was used to both block the spit and spread out the charge so they wouldn't leave any marks on Husseini. Henry had used stun guns himself on many occasions. Especially on the prisoners who were fond of throwing their feces and urine at the guards. Every human rights organization had released statements condemning the use of stun guns on prisoners as torture. Henry wondered how they would feel if they had someone throwing shit on them every day when they walked into work.
Tapp got the towel ready. He stepped a little closer and asked, "Are you done spitting?"
Husseini tilted his head back again and pursed his lips.
Tapp tossed the towel back over Husseini's head and hit him with another three-second shot from the stun gun. The results were the same. Husseini's recovery, though, took a good half minute longer.
Henry and Tapp exchanged a brief look. Between the two of them they'd had only one prisoner go beyond three hits in a sitting. Almost all required shocks a day or two later, to help cement the conditioning. A minute passed and Tapp pulled the towel off Husseini's head. He didn't speak this time. He stood within striking distance locked in a stare with Husseini waiting for him to decide which path he would take.
Henry stared at the cut and swollen bump above Husseini's eye. The blood had run down his face onto his neck and was now soaking the collar of the orange jumpsuit. It showed no signs of slowing. Henry knew that sooner rather than later he would have to get a first aid kit and clean up the prisoner. There was no way of hiding the injury, though. That was going to create some major problems in the morning.
There was a knock on the door. Henry walked over and opened it. General Randel was standing in the hallway, smiling. "He wants to talk to you."
Henry did not want to talk in front of Husseini, so he said to Tapp, "I'll be back in a minute." He stepped into the hallway, and as soon as the door was closed he asked, "What's up?"
Randel rolled his eyes. "The man is a snake. He thinks only of himself. I knew he would want to strike a deal."
"Did he give you anything?"
"He says he has information that would be very helpful and timely to the U.S."
"You believe him?"
"He was in a position to know important things, but he is a liar. It is up to you to sort it all out." Randel grinned.
Henry thought of his strategy. He knew from experience that you never walked into an interrogation room without a plan. He had an idea where al-Haq would want to take this. He patted Randel on the shoulder and said, "Thank you. I will go in alone. Please watch, though, and don't be afraid to interrupt if you think he is lying."