Conventional interrogation wisdom said torture didn’t work. But as Roger was fond of saying, “If it doesn’t work, you’re doing it wrong.”
Roger had already removed his rubber surgical mask and gauntlets when he walked into the waiting area. Except for the rubber apron, he looked as refreshed as someone who’d just woken up from a long afternoon nap.
“My,” he sighed as he sat in an ancient metal and pleather chair across from Hicks. “That was quite a session. Glad I had the recorders rolling for that one. He became quite cooperative after a while.”
Hicks noticed a sliver of something bright pink on the belly of Roger’s apron and quickly looked away. “Jesus, Roger.”
Roger noticed it and picked it up with two fingers. “Ah, how Merchant of Venice of me. Sorry about that. The price of progress, I suppose. A pound of flesh, as it were, only this one was just a couple of ounces.”
Hicks felt the bile rise in his throat. He was no stranger to blood and carnage, but Roger’s interrogations were always something more than that. He didn’t just work on the body. He worked on the soul. Hicks had never believed in things like souls until he’d seen the results of Roger’s work. Because only damaging someone on a spiritual level could count for the results he was able to get. It was less about the pain and more about the use of it to get what he wanted.
Hicks swallowed down what was rising in his throat and said, “Did you get anything out of him?”
“Oh, quite a bit. Your friend Clarke was right about our Djebar, you know? He’s been exceptionally well trained to hide information. He’s spent a lifetime hiding behind several walls in his mind. Selective memory, disassociation, and the like. I made him remember things he didn’t think he knew or thought he’d long forgotten. He’s far more complex than your typical run of the mill Matchmaker, and now I can see why he’s so well paid.”
“I’m glad you’re impressed,” Hicks said. “What did he tell you about Omar?”
Roger took the piece of tissue and tossed it in a small trash can between the tables. It made a wet smack off the side and a small puff of dust rose as the flesh struck the bottom. “Omar had hired Debar to put him in touch with some scientists who’ve been working on weaponizing SARS and MERS and Ebola in a lab in Saudi Arabia. According to Djebar, the Saudis told their allies that all the scientists were killed. They weren’t. In fact, they all got away. Their deaths are just a cover story the Saudis are using to cover their mistakes.”
Hicks hadn’t told Roger about the envelope because he didn’t want him to lead Djebar in that direction. As good as Roger was, he was still human and humans are prone to being influenced. “Did he say who Omar is working with?”
“You said there were three scientists. Which of them did Djebar put in touch with Omar?”
“He mentioned something about a Samuelson who’d been working at the lab. By then, Djebar was a little tired, so the details were foggy. He mentioned something about shipments and samples and keeping everyone on program, whatever that means. He said there were three scientists, but didn’t tell me anything about the other two.”
“Did he tell you how much of the viruses this Samuelson had given Omar?”
“Twelve vials in plastic containers,” Roger said. “He was very specific about how the containers were plastic, but I couldn’t get him to tell me why.”
“Because they were transported in a padded envelope,” Hicks said. It was all coming together and none of it was pretty. “Did he tell you anything else about Samuelson?”
“No, but before he passed out, he kept confusing phrases. Instead of payment, he kept referring to ‘his people’ and ‘us’ and his ‘reward.’ I thought you said he worked alone.”
“I did,” Hicks said. Then again, he’d once thought Omar was just a cab driver with a big mouth and no network. The rest of what Djebar had said could’ve been babble or it could be everything.
Hicks pulled out his handheld in hand. “Did you upload your session with Djebar to OMNI?”
“It was a live feed the whole time,” Roger said. “The system should be combing through it now. Why?”
Hicks dialed the Dean. “Did Djebar give Omar the samples already?”
“He said the bulk of the shipment is scheduled to arrive today or tomorrow, but he did give him several samples on account when they gave their deposit. Samuelson is supposed to give him the rest today.”
Hicks began dialing the Dean. “How?”
“That part was handled directly between Samuelson and Omar via email. It’s all part of the security procedures the scientists insist upon and it’s pretty effective.”
The Dean answered Hicks’ call on the second ring. “OMNI is already analyzing everything he got out Djebar. Tell Roger he hit the mother lode with this bastard.”
Normally, Hicks would’ve been happy that the Dean was pleased, but he didn’t have that kind of time. “We need to pour everything into finding Samuelson and the other two scientists from the lab. We need to know where he’s been since the Saudi raid. Where he is now. We need to find out how he’s sending them the rest of the viruses and we’d better find out fast.”
“I’ll make sure it’s a priority,” the Dean said. “In the meantime, Scott’s Varsity team is ready to hit Omar’s facility at any time. According to his field reports, no one has moved from the building all day. No one in, no one out, so maybe they’re waiting on that delivery you mentioned.”
Roger heard the entire conversation and said, “Make sure they have gas masks with them before they go in. That should be enough to protect them in the event of contamination, so long as they get out of the building as quickly as possible after they hit it.”
Hicks heard a few more clicks from the Dean’s keyboard. “We should play it safe and just send in a drone to level the whole building right now. We can claim it was a gas leak or a meth lab that blew up. Christ knows that excuse has worked in the past for less dangerous circumstances.”
“That might kill Omar and the existing samples, but it won’t help us find out where the next batch of samples is coming from or who Omar’s working with. These guys have managed to stay off the grid for this long. Anything we get out of him will have to be through interrogation.”
“I’m scrambling a drone anyway,” the Dean said. “It’ll be in the area within two hours. In addition to Scott’s team, I’ve already another team en route to cover the perimeter while Scott’s team goes in. Either by land or air, that building gets hit in two hours. Hicks, I take it you’ll want to be there when we go in.”
“If I get there in time,” Hicks said, “but if Scott has cause, tell him not to wait. I’d rather keep them contained in the building than risk letting them go.”
“Understood,” said the Dean. “I’ll let them know you’re in route. I’ll send details on the drone to your handheld as they come in. And, for what it’s worth, Hicks, you were right all along.”
Hicks wasn’t in the mood for praise, either. “Don’t let Jason hear you say that. Let’s just hope we can stop this damned thing before it spreads.”
The connection went dead and Hicks pocketed the handheld. To Roger, he said, “Are you sure you got everything out of Djebar about Omar?”
“Everything relevant, yes. But I think there’s still enough paste left in the tube for at least one more scrubbing. I know our friends across the pond want him back.” He suddenly looked like a sad child asking to stay up past his bedtime. “Can I keep him? Just a little while?”
The way he looked when he said it made Hicks grateful they were on the same side. “Just a little while, then fix him up and call that number I gave you. And make sure they get access to everything he said. But if you kill him, Clarke’s going to be pissed and so will I.”
Roger brightened. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
Hicks didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply closed the door quietly behind him.
HICKS DIDN’T have any trouble locating the Varsity observation post in Mi
dwood. They’d been stationed in the back of an old delivery truck with the faded signage of a fruit vendor on the side. The white paint on the cab was peeling and gray, showing the rusting metal underneath. Graffiti covered most of the exterior. The truck looked like it belonged in a junkyard instead of playing a role as a forward observation post, which was the general idea.
A man Hicks knew by the name of Scott was in charge of the Varsity team who’d been watching Omar’s safe house for the past day. Hicks had worked with Scott in various parts of the world for the better part of a decade, but still didn’t know if Scott was his first name or his last name. He really didn’t care, either.
The inside of the cargo area had been outfitted as a cramped forward observation post. The truck had four bunk beds for operatives to sleep in while two others monitored the equipment. Everything was hooked up to OMNI via the network, making the whole set up a mobile version of his Twenty-third Street station. A state-of-the-art ventilation system made the truck cool in the summer and warm in the winter, but the air still smelled like stale coffee.
“What’s the play?” Scott asked Hicks when they were inside the truck. “The Dean called direct and said this was a potential Level One scenario, but that’s damned near a given. We don’t exactly get called out to fetch cats out of trees.”
Hicks saw no reason not to level with them. They were risking their lives right along with him. They were entitled to know what they were up against. “We just learned that Omar is working toward bringing in weaponized versions of the SARS, MERS, and Ebola viruses into the country. We have good reason to believe that he already has several samples of each in his possession with an untold number on the way. We don’t know if they’re in the building or elsewhere. We don’t know who is delivering them or when. But we suspect that Omar is scheduled to receive delivery of these samples at some point today. If it looks like the delivery is taking place, we go in.”
The five other men looked at each other, then at Scott. Kicking in doors and killing bad guys was one thing. Doing it with a lethal biological agent in the building was another story.
Scott said, “I am not sending my men into a goddamned HazMat area without proper equipment.”
“Suspected HazMat area,” Hicks said, “and it’s probably a small enough amount for your gas masks to protect you.”
One of the other men asked, “What about a drone strike to take out the building? Hell, we’ve nailed targets tighter than this one before.”
“The Dean is prepping that option as we speak, but it’s still more than an hour out. But if we blow the building without knowing what’s inside, we run the risk of missing delivery of the shipment and finding out who Omar is working with. Not to mention the virus might not even be there and we’d be killing every lead we have in finding out where the new shipment is coming from.”
Scott spoke for his men. “I say level the building and sift the rubble later. I’ll take a building full of dead Hajis before I let one of my men get scratched.” The men grunted their agreement. “There’s some potentially bad shit going on in there and lighting it up is the best for all involved.”
Hicks didn’t think so, but he didn’t want to disagree with Scott in front of his men. “Like I said, it’s being considered.”
One of Scott’s men asked, “Any idea about what kind of weapons they have? We’ve been watching them since yesterday and haven’t seen shit.”
“I’ve watched the guys for a while and never seen them with anything bigger than a nine millimeter. But I didn’t know Omar was capable of running a bio-terror ring, so we should be prepared for anything.”
“If we go in,” Scott said.
“If we do, what’s your plan for hitting the building?”
Scott turned it over to his man at the computer who brought up a three dimensional rendering of the building from the University satellite. “When the second team arrives, we’ll have a twelve-man force, so we’ll set up a containment and breach scenario. The second unit will cover us with two men in the front, two in the back, and one sniper stationed at the front of the building and one at the back. With the front door covered, we’ll breach through the back door where they’re least expecting it.”
The tech switched screens to a thermal read of the building. “We’re looking at a three-story structure that has been modified several times recently. Scans show twenty people moving freely through the building and basement since yesterday. About six of the twenty have been on the top floor and appear to be in bed. Judging by what we’ve been able to see through scans, they’re all running fevers and they might be sick.”
“Or infected,” Hicks observed.
“You catch on fast,” said Scott. “If Omar is still inside—and we’ve got no reason to think he’s anywhere else—that means they all know him and are probably part of whatever he’s planning to do with those diseases. That means there are no innocents in that building and if we go in and start shooting, everyone is a legitimate target.”
Hicks told the computer tech to pull up Omar’s photo. “I know you’ve been looking at this bastard’s photo for a few days now, but I need you to memorize his photo. He’s our main target and you wound him if you have to. Even cripple him, but don’t kill him. We need him alive so we can find out where the viruses are and what he’s done with the samples he already has. We need him to tell us where the shipment is and where the samples he already has are. And he can’t tell us a damned thing if he’s dead.”
One of Scott’s men asked, “What makes you think he’ll talk.”
Hicks flashed back to the sounds and smells he’d just left at Roger’s studio. The piece of Djebar he’d thrown in the garbage. “Don’t worry. He’ll talk.”
The computer tech said, “Then you boys better work fast because it looks like something’s going on.”
HICKS LOOKED at the OMNI thermal feed on the monitor. Inside the building, he saw several heat signatures blurring into one as they massed in the hallway by the front door.
“God damn it,” Hicks said. “They’re coming out.”
One of Scott’s other men put his hand up to his earpiece and repeated, “Sir. The second team is a block out.”
“Good. Have them stay in their vehicles and stay ready.” To Hicks, Scott said, “If they move, I say we hit them in transit. It’ll be public, but it’ll be clean and final.”
Hicks asked the computer tech for the mouse and took the feed off thermal, switched it to normal vision and zoomed in on the front door of the building. His handheld began to buzz. It was either the Dean or Jason calling for a status report now that things were heating up. Hicks decided it must be Jason. Only that numbskull would be dumb enough to call just as an operation was about to pop.
Hicks watched the line of men stream out of Omar’s house into the street. OMNI automatically scanned each face and would run identity checks within a matter of moments on each man it saw. The all had the gaunt leanness of Somalis, but none of them looked like Omar.
Hicks knew if he hit them now, he could prevent everyone from getting away. Keep all the bad guys in one place. But he would risk killing Omar in a firefight and lose the one man who knew about his plan. Omar had always led a compartmentalized existence. Hicks knew no one would know enough about his plans to tell him much.
Hicks and the others watched as the men from the building piled into five cars that had been parked on the street in front of the building.
“Time’s wasting,” Scott said. “Make the call.”
Hicks knew what he should do, but decided what was best for the broader mission. “Our group is Team One and your other group is Team Two. Team Two will follow and track those five cars. OMNI is our eye in the sky but those boys are our boots on the ground. No matter what happens, they stick with the cars and report back where they go. If we’re not available, they report to Jason. Team Two stays cocked and locked unless they see something funky going on. Until then, they are to report back only.”
Scott
clearly didn’t like it, but was too professional to say it, especially in front of his men. He nodded at his radio man, who relayed the instructions to Team Two. Then Scott said, “Then you still want to hit that building.”
Hicks clicked the screen back to a thermal image of the building. “I counted ten people who came out of that house. That leaves ten more still inside. Five on the top floor, many of whom appear to in bed and quite possibly sick, and five who look like they’re in the basement. Any of those men who just came out look like they were carrying any lab equipment to you?” Scott shook his head, so Hicks said, “Me neither. The samples of the virus are still in there. That’s why Team Two tails the ten men and the rest of us go in.”
Scott looked at the monitor. “I don’t like it, but I’m not paid to like it, am I?”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Hicks said, though he’d planned enough of these operations to know there were no other options.
They watched as the ten men who’d left the building pulled away in five cars. Team Two—in a Chevy Trailblazer—followed ten seconds behind.
Hicks stepped away from the computer. “It’s your team and your call, but either way, I’m going in. Alone if I have to.”
One of the other men spoke up. “Wait a minute. What about the drone strike?”
Scott answered for him. “Drone like that’s at least an hour out. Those men leaving the premises give us the best chance of going in with minimal resistance.” He reached into a supply drawer and handed Hicks a gas mask. “If you’re coming with us, you’re wearing one of these.”
Hicks took the mask. “Then let’s go.”
HICKS LED the way out of the truck. Scott’s men followed with Scott locking up and bringing up the rear. The street hadn’t been shoveled and patches of ice had formed beneath the snow; making it slippery. None of the men stumbled.
Hicks led them through the path he’d staked out already; through an alley that led between two buildings that let out directly across the street from Omar’s building. The alley was a popular pass through for kids going to and coming home from school, so the snow had trampled well and made for easier travel.
Sympathy For the Devil Page 21
