“We’re on US soil here. This is going to be an interrogation, but it’s going to be clean.”
Vail knew that “clean” was a relative term; she took it to mean that they would only use standard interrogation methods, nothing that would cross the line. That said, with the known threat of imminent attacks hanging over the country, just how aggressive they got depended on how close DeSantos felt they were to the information—and if he felt Ghazal was holding back. She and Uzi were bound by procedure and law. DeSantos was not.
Vail and Uzi walked into the room, where DeSantos had already gotten started. Rodman remained outside to observe.
Their prisoner was seated at a stainless steel table that was bolted to the cement floor, Ghazal’s wrists secured to a thick ring in the center of the sparse, metal surface. Two rather conspicuous cameras were mounted on the walls.
“There’s no point in denying involvement here,” DeSantos was saying as they entered. “We saw you at the safe house. We’ve got your fingerprints there.”
“You know nothing,” he said in heavily accented English.
DeSantos laughed. “That’s why we’re sitting here in this room. Because there are things we don’t know. Things we want to know.”
“There’s also a lot we do know,” Vail said. “We know about Sahmoud. We’ve talked to him.”
Ghazal’s eyes narrowed. That was apparently news to him. Good; keep him guessing. Throwing him off balance increased his unease, made him less sure of himself.
Uzi stepped in front of the table. “Look, asshole. We’re not interested in wasting time. Tell us where and when the next attack is gonna be.”
Ghazal seemed to consider that for a moment. “I don’t know. That’s the truth. Sahmoud and—we’re given orders two hours in advance. We do what we’re told.”
“We know you’re one of the planners,” DeSantos said. “So cut the bullshit of being out of the loop.”
“I plan, yes. But they decide when it’s gonna be. I always plan for a lot of targets but they choose which ones.”
“Who else is working with Sahmoud?” Uzi asked.
“No one.”
“Bullshit. Who is it?”
“If Sahmoud wants you to know, you’ll know. You’re not going to get that from me. I don’t care what you do to me; this is not something I will tell.”
Vail glanced at DeSantos. She could tell by his smirk that he was willing to bet money against Ghazal’s last proclamation.
“We’ve been analyzing the explosives and paraphernalia in your bomb-making factory.” Uzi paused, then said, “We also found sniper rifles. That makes us think this isn’t a one-dimensional attack.”
When did he find out about the sniper rifles? When he was on the phone with Hoshi? Why didn’t he tell me?
Ghazal smiled.
Uzi studied his face a moment. “What do you think you’re going to get from launching these attacks?”
“We’re fighting the enemy. Infidels, nonbelievers. Anyone who is not Muslim. Anyone who does not follow the laws of Allah. Anyone who does not follow Sharia law.”
Vail came up alongside Uzi, gently nudged him aside, and took a seat opposite Ghazal. She had an idea. She twisted in the seat and looked at Uzi and DeSantos. “Would you two mind giving me some time?”
They hesitated, but clearly not wanting to break their unified front—and trusting Vail’s sensibilities—left the room.
When the door thumped shut, she turned back to Ghazal. “Sharia law is all that matters.”
Ghazal nodded.
“Okay,” Vail said, “I get that. See, I’ve studied Islam. There are some wonderful things in the Koran.”
Ghazal looked at Vail, a look that said he was unsure of what to make of her, of where she was going. Trying to determine why she was being nice to him.
Truth is, Vail wanted to ram her fist into his nose, then gut his stomach with the Tanto Uzi had given her. This bastard had killed innocent men, women, and children whose only “crime” was being in the wrong place at
Vail knew that “clean” was a relative term; she took it to mean that they would only use standard interrogation methods, nothing that would cross the line. That said, with the known threat of imminent attacks hanging over the country, just how aggressive they got depended on how close DeSantos felt they were to the information—and if he felt Ghazal was holding back. She and Uzi were bound by procedure and law. DeSantos was not.
Vail and Uzi walked into the room, where DeSantos had already gotten started. Rodman remained outside to observe.
Their prisoner was seated at a stainless steel table that was bolted to the cement floor, Ghazal’s wrists secured to a thick ring in the center of the sparse, metal surface. Two rather conspicuous cameras were mounted on the walls.
“There’s no point in denying involvement here,” DeSantos was saying as they entered. “We saw you at the safe house. We’ve got your fingerprints there.”
“You know nothing,” he said in heavily accented English.
DeSantos laughed. “That’s why we’re sitting here in this room. Because there are things we don’t know. Things we want to know.”
“There’s also a lot we do know,” Vail said. “We know about Sahmoud. We’ve talked to him.”
Ghazal’s eyes narrowed. That was apparently news to him. Good; keep him guessing. Throwing him off balance increased his unease, made him less sure of himself.
Uzi stepped in front of the table. “Look, asshole. We’re not interested in wasting time. Tell us where and when the next attack is gonna be.”
Ghazal seemed to consider that for a moment. “I don’t know. That’s the truth. Sahmoud and—we’re given orders two hours in advance. We do what we’re told.”
“We know you’re one of the planners,” DeSantos said. “So cut the bullshit of being out of the loop.”
“I plan, yes. But they decide when it’s gonna be. I always plan for a lot of targets but they choose which ones.”
“Who else is working with Sahmoud?” Uzi asked.
“No one.”
“Bullshit. Who is it?”
“If Sahmoud wants you to know, you’ll know. You’re not going to get that from me. I don’t care what you do to me; this is not something I will tell.”
Vail glanced at DeSantos. She could tell by his smirk that he was willing to bet money against Ghazal’s last proclamation.
“We’ve been analyzing the explosives and paraphernalia in your bomb-making factory.” Uzi paused, then said, “We also found sniper rifles. That makes us think this isn’t a one-dimensional attack.”
When did he find out about the sniper rifles? When he was on the phone with Hoshi? Why didn’t he tell me?
Ghazal smiled.
Uzi studied his face a moment. “What do you think you’re going to get from launching these attacks?”
“We’re fighting the enemy. Infidels, nonbelievers. Anyone who is not Muslim. Anyone who does not follow the laws of Allah. Anyone who does not follow Sharia law.”
Vail came up alongside Uzi, gently nudged him aside, and took a seat opposite Ghazal. She had an idea. She twisted in the seat and looked at Uzi and DeSantos. “Would you two mind giving me some time?”
They hesitated, but clearly not wanting to break their unified front—and trusting Vail’s sensibilities—left the room.
When the door thumped shut, she turned back to Ghazal. “Sharia law is all that matters.”
Ghazal nodded.
“Okay,” Vail said, “I get that. See, I’ve studied Islam. There are some wonderful things in the Koran.”
Ghazal looked at Vail, a look that said he was unsure of what to make of her, of where she was going. Trying to determine why she was being nice to him.
Truth is, Vail wanted to ram her fist into his nose, then gut his stomach with the Tanto Uzi had given her. This bastard had killed innocent men, women, and children whose only “crime” was being in the wrong place at
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