Reprisal in Black

by Dan Fox

  They were desperately angry now and upset by Jean’s revelations and then they slowly realised that the game was well and truly up. They had nowhere to go. They were also quick enough to think of their own salvation and were both frantically working on their survival plans.

  ‘Who else did you make contact with apart from your adopted father and mother?’

  ‘No-one’ said Rani who was still managing to hold onto the last vestiges of defiance.

  Jean moved back behind Dado brandishing the scalpel.

  Rani shook his head and then looked straight at Dado whose eyes said tell her.

  Rani shouted ‘Massood Malhi was the only other person we dealt with, we needed him to get us the chemicals and the device that overrode the Autopilot. Our traitor of a father couldn’t help us with those.’

  Rani spat on the floor in disgust. They had been betrayed after all the sacrifices they had made. They were horrified and disillusioned.

  ‘Apart from your ‘mother’, who is dead by the way, she was shot when our team captured your father; did you ever speak to or contact anyone else since you came to America? Please be careful how you answer as we know a lot more than you think as you may have realised by now. I also suggest you think how much of an ear Dado will have left if you lie to me.’

  They both shook their heads vigorously, Dado then screamed out as the blood started to flow again.

  Jean then said ‘Now you realise you’ve been sold out by both your father and Massood Malhi, you will now take us through everything that happened to you since you were sold to him by your uncle all those years ago. You will not leave a single fact out or we start again with the scalpel, okay? I would imagine it will take you a couple of hours to recount everything in detail. I shall come back from time to time to check on you. It would be in your best interests to comply with my request, don’t you think?’ They nodded, defeated. Jean switched the recording device on and went to report to Steve and the others.

  When Jean had left the room and closed the door behind her, Rani looked pitifully at Dado and said, ‘I am sorry little brother, I did not believe she would harm you.’ Dado just nodded at his brother, still angry and still in significant pain from the wound.

  ‘If they have our father and our mother is dead as they say, and they have Massood Malhi as well, we have nowhere to go. They will already know everything and are using us to check on a few details. If we lie to them now they will surely kill us. They don’t need us anymore’, said Rani to Dado.

  ‘I can’t believe it’, said Dado, ‘how did they catch on to us so quickly? These are not normal FBI or CIA people. That woman is insane and I agree she will surely kill us if we don’t cooperate. Do you think they will kill us if we help them?’

  ‘I don’t think so’, said Rani desperately trying to convince himself that he believed it.

  Rani and Dado considered their position in silence for a few minutes and then Rani began to speak for the benefit of the microphone.

  Chapter 42

  In the meantime Jackson and Marcel had spoken to the father, Sharif Mohammed, the Pakistani Intelligence Officer and to Asif Iqbal, who had sent the radio signal from the ship. All the team thought that Mohammed would be the toughest nut to crack. The others had no fight in them.

  Jean and a couple of assistants unstrapped the boys and took them to a spare cell whilst Sharif Mohammed was taken to the Interrogation Room. The brothers were then transferred to and locked in Mohammed’s cell, handcuffed to a metal hook firmly secured into the rough concrete wall. Jean set the recorder down by the cell door and left it running out of reach of them. ‘Take your time we want everything. You have two hours, no more. If you haven’t given us what we want by then, I shall cut you both to pieces. I will enjoy that.’ The brothers knew she would.

  Steve and Marcel were to have the first crack at Mohammed, the supposed Pakistani Intelligence agent. Marcel was keen to try some of the tricks he’d been taught by the Bedouin in the Sahara when he was in the French Foreign Legion. He was confident they would work.

  Mohammed knew what he was in for and had been trained to resist, not to give in, but he knew as an absolute certainty it would only be a matter of time. He had heard screams earlier and knew they weren’t just playing mind games. His resolve was already slipping.

  The agony of his broken leg which had received no treatment as yet was debilitating and he felt himself at his lowest ebb. He’d been told they’d apprehended Massood Malhi although he hadn’t seen or heard him. If they had him no-one was safe. He was doing a splendid job of giving in before the interrogation started. When he was strapped in Rani’s chair he could not help see the copious amounts of fresh blood on the concrete floor. He wanted to vomit.

  Marcel came into the room followed by Steve who sat in Dado’s chair having wiped the blood off in a very slow and deliberate manner. Marcel looked at the broken leg which was twisted, swollen and horrifically bruised. He forgot his Sahara tricks for the moment and kicked the broken leg hard. The high pitched scream resonated and echoed around the room. Even Steve winced. Mohammed had bitten his tongue and blood dribbled out of his mouth and onto his shirt. He had never felt such agony. He was left to recover for a few minutes before Steve spoke.

  ‘You are Sharif Mohammed the broker from Colombo. You tell others you are with Pakistani Intelligence. Tell us who you really are and who you work for?’

  Silence, thirty seconds of agonising silence.

  Marcel kicked the leg hard again. The extended and horrible scream that came from Mohammed would have engendered sympathy in anyone with a morsel of humanity in them. Marcel didn’t have any. He didn’t give a damn.

  Mohammed vomited as a reaction to the unyielding pain. He sobbed in agony. They left him in the chair for five minutes and went to check the progress elsewhere. Jean was outside the brother’s cell listening to them on headphones. Occasionally she would go in and prompt them to expand on a particular point. They had well and truly given in and seemed hell bent on blaming anybody else they could think of.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Steve asked. Jean gave him the thumbs up.

  ‘Nothing new of any particular interest, but this was an amazingly complex plot. It would have cost an absolute fortune. Someone very high up the food chain was financing this.’

  Again Steve wondered who that would be. Steve and Marcel then moved on to Jackson and asked if he’d made any progress.

  ‘The father’s had a huge role in this as we know, but his relationship with Massood Malhi goes back for years and years. We have to suspect that he’s been involved in other plots. I know that’s not what we’re here for but we’re going to have to pass him on to the CIA.’

  Steve nodded. He knew that Malik could write a very useful book.

  ‘What about Iqbal?’

  ‘He’ll start making up things if we push him anymore. Yes he’s complicit in it all, but I believe he only had one specific job to do. He’s on the bottom rung of the command ladder. Of no further interest to us I’d say.

  Marcel said ‘We could do with the space. What do you say you take him away from here?’ Jackson looked at Steve who agreed. Jackson prepared to leave with Iqbal.

  Steve and Marcel went back to see Mohammed. He was in terrible pain and hardly noticed them enter.

  Marcel shook him and said ‘Are you going to tell us now?’ Mohammed dropped his head and mouthed yes.

  ‘If you tell us everything and I mean everything I will give you a painkilling injection and we will arrange to have your leg treated properly. If I even think you may be telling me a lie. I will kick your leg again and again until your heart stops. Do you understand me?’

  Again Mohammed said yes.

  ‘Okay then, you know the first questions, answer them.’

  ‘I am Sharif Mohammed and I am Captain in Pakistani Intelligence.’

  ‘Is Pakistan complicit in this plot?’

  ‘No’ said Mohammed, ‘they have no knowledge of it. I have been working for
Massood Malhi. My government thought I was in Sri Lanka chasing drug smugglers.’

  ‘Who else is involved in this that we don’t know about?’

  Mohammed hesitated, shook his head and said ‘There is someone Massood Malhi reports to but I do not know who it is.’

  ‘Are you saying that one man, Massood Malhi, reports to one other man?’

  ‘There must be other people like Massood Malhi but I have no knowledge of them. My involvement in this is not political. It is for money. I am not a member of an extremist organisation I just do not like the Americans, they should not be in other countries interfering with their cultures. Muslims should sort out their problems themselves.

  ‘How much were you paid?’

  ‘Fifty thousand American dollars.’

  ‘What about Iqbal, where does he fit in?’

  ‘He is a moron he only had a simple task to do and nearly messed it up. I only used him once and would not have done so again.’

  That confirmed the team’s suspicions. It was a shame that Iqbal had got himself caught up in this. He would not live to spend his money.

  Steve said ‘What other plots have you been involved in?’

  ‘None, this was the first and then it was done.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. How did you meet up with Massood Malhi then?’

  Again Mohammed hesitated and Marcel moved round towards the broken leg.

  ‘It’s about three years ago’ he said quickly, ‘Massood Malhi heard I had been outspoken in public about American involvement. I suppose I was groomed from that point on. I didn’t know about this plot until three months ago when I met Massood Malhi in Karachi.’

  ‘Iqbal and others have said that the short wave radio burst transmitter device that allowed the Autopilot to be overridden came from Massood Malhi, is that true?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was sent to me by Massood Malhi but I don’t know where he got it from. It was a very clever device. It must have been made by an electronics expert maybe from the University.’ Steve noted this to pass on.

  Marcel said ‘If there’s anything else you think you should tell us then do it now. If we find something, anything out from someone else I will carry out my threat. You know I will.’

  Mohammed nodded and said ‘The only other detail I am aware of is the name of the person who organised and ran the preparatory work on the airfield so that the president’s plane could land there. It is Abdul Ashiq who lives near Tehran and usually runs guns and ammunition into Afghanistan via Iran for Massood Malhi.’

  ‘Thank you’ said Marcel, ‘why have you told us this?’

  ‘The man disgusts me. I have young children. He is what you Americans call a Paedophile. He also drinks Whisky’ said Mohammed as if they were both equally appalling.

  Marcel then called Attwood and asked ‘Can you send me someone to patch up Mohammed. He’ll need morphine and someone to set and plaster his leg.’

  Marcel then brought Attwood up to date with the revelations. Attwood was impressed at how quickly they’d come up with the answers although he wouldn’t have been too keen to sit in on one of their interviews.

  Chapter 43

  Jackson had loaded Iqbal into the back of the van, bound and gagged. He then drove ten miles away from the factory, stopped on the deserted roadside, and opened the rear doors. Iqbal was justifiably terrified. Jackson ripped the gag from his mouth and untied his hands.

  ‘Please don’t kill me’ screamed Iqbal.

  Jackson looked at him for a moment and said ‘You weren’t so bothered about the people who died on the plane or those that will die because of your actions, like poor Captain Khan. But, because I am a fair man I will give you a ten second start. Start running now.’

  Iqbal hesitated for a split second and then turned and ran headlong into the scrub at the side of the road. He had gone no more than ten paces when two bullets entered the back of his head in quick succession. He was dead before he hit the ground. Jackson got back into the van and drove back to the factory.

  The team met up in the Rest Room and ran through what they had uncovered.

  Marcel looked at his watch, ‘Only two hours before Massood Malhi’s power goes off. I hope he has that Emergency Number to hand.’ It could go all pear shaped if he hadn’t.

  Steve said ‘I want to call Attwood for an update on their surveillance of Massood Malhi’s place and then we need to start getting in position.’

  The only additional piece of information that Attwood revealed was that about half an hour ago a visitor left Massood Malhi’s place. He apologised but said his people had missed him arriving so they weren’t sure how long he had been there. Steve asked for a description. Attwood said it was a tall, very old man, hunched over with a hump back and walking unsteadily with two sticks. His surveillance people had commented that they didn’t expect him to reach the end of the street.

  Steve railed at this, ‘Listen up buddy this is not a fucking joke. Tell your people their asses are on the line if anything like this happens again. If they see him again I want to know that instant. Do you read me? Did it ever occur to you that this old man could actually be a key player in all of this? You’d better sharpen up unless you want to be on the next flight to DC with your resignation.’

  ‘I’m sorry Steve they’re getting a bit bored now. I think I’d better change teams. It won’t happen again.’

  With that Steve hung up feeling very annoyed.

  The call from Massood Malhi’s house went through to the Emergency Number fifteen minutes after the timed fuse blew and the power at his house went off. Steve and Marcel were already in the back of the electricity van with the original two guys in the front. They arrived at the gate to Massood Malhi’s house ten minutes later. The guys got out and knocked on the gate. Massood Malhi came himself this time. He was not a happy man. The guys went overboard apologising to him and he waved them off to work on the problem. They turned the power off, replaced the fuse and reconnected the supply. They waited another few minutes. One of the guys pulled a dead and burnt rat out of a bag and carried it with him as they went back to the gate. It had been left open. Steve and Marcel slipped through and hid by the side of the front door porch. They would be behind Massood Malhi when he came back to answer the knock at the gate. The guys held up the obviously dead rat. Massood Malhi shrugged his shoulders as he prepared to sign the job card. They had a pen this time.

  As Massood Malhi was distracted signing the job card Steve and Marcel pounced, Steve grabbing him around the chest from behind with Marcel sticking the spike into his neck. Massood Malhi was unconscious in the back of the Electricity van in a few seconds. They would swap him to their builders van when they’d cleared the area. Steve thanked the guys for their excellent work and made the vehicle changeover a few minutes later.

  Massood Malhi came round strapped into one of the Dentists chairs. He struggled but was bound very tightly.

  Jean looked at him for a few moments and then said ‘Well, well, well, the famous or should I say infamous Massood Malhi. We’ve been waiting to talk to you for a very long time. We know lots about you. We have the brothers Desai down the corridor. We also have Sharif Mohammed, and as a bonus we have your old friend Shiqtar Malik. Massood Malhi visibly blanched at the last name.

  We’ve had a long chat with them all and they have told us lots about you. We’ll bring them in soon so you can talk to them. Now then Massood Malhi tell us who you work for? Who is your boss? Who pays you?’

  Massood Malhi stared at her and said nothing. She delivered a vicious kick into his scrotum. He yelled and his head dropped as he gasped for breath.

  ‘Okay, we’ll take out your eyes one by one.’ Massood Malhi shuddered and did doubly so when Jean produced the scalpel. Without any warning she reached over and made a small cut at the top of his right eyelid. The blood flooded his eye so he couldn’t see. He screamed not really aware of what exactly she’d done.

  ‘Okay, the other one’ she said.


  ‘No’ screamed Massood Malhi. ‘Please no.’

  ‘I want answers’ said Jean ‘And now. One lie and you’re blind, okay?’

  ‘I do not know the name of the man. I have never met him and have only spoken to him on the telephone once which was at the beginning. All our dealings are by text or e-mail.

  ‘Bullshit! It’s time to pop your right eye.’

  Massood Malhi screamed again as she approached with the scalpel.

  ‘We’ll come back to that one in a minute. Who is the old guy who visited you earlier?’

  Massood Malhi knew now that the game was well and truly up.

  ‘He’s an old friend of my father who passed away some years ago. He still comes around for a chat.’

  ‘His name?’ Jean said impatiently, ‘and his address. Now.’

  ‘He is called Nawaar Taqvi and he lives half a mile away on Ibn-e-Sina Road by the children’s park. The white house with the black gate.’

  Jean left the room for a moment to tell Steve and returned to see Massood Malhi looking very anxious.

  ‘Tell us about the boys. How did you find them, where were they from, what were their names? Tell me about their uncle, how much did you pay him? Why were they important to you? Remember, we know a lot, a lot more than you think we do. Some of the questions we already know the answer to. If you want to live much longer you will make sure that you tell me the absolute truth. One lie or hesitation and it’s all over for you. Are we clear?’

  Massood Malhi looked at Jean and was in abject terror. He realised that he had nowhere to go. The only chance he had of saving his life was to cooperate however unsavoury that was. The Americans knew too much and if he didn’t tell them someone else would or they would find out somehow, after all they had everybody else of significance captive already. He had no choice now did he? However, there was one piece of information that he wouldn’t divulge, even if it cost him his life. He hoped that his sacrifice, if it came to that, would be appreciated.