Monster

by Bernard L. DeLeo

  “Promise?”

  “Oh yeah. I’ll put on Bocelli’s Romanza CD and give you a complete body massage with warm baby oil.”

  “We’ll never make it through the massage.”

  “Mistress underestimates Mr. Reskova,” McDaniels joked.

  “Not hardly.”

  Chapter 25

  Tomashevsky

  McDaniels was making coffee when Barrington, Rutledge and Rasheed walked into the office together. “You three synchronize your watches or something?”

  “We decided to car pool since we’re within ten minutes of each other,” Rutledge answered, as her companions waved at McDaniels by way of greeting. “Where’s Diane?”

  “Meeting with Dreyer again to see what he wants to do about questioning Tomashevsky concerning the stuff Kay and I found in his trunk.” McDaniels poked Rasheed when he distorted his nose at the smell of the coffee. “Considering the complications over his detention, it’s a good thing CIA is holding him incommunicado.”

  “Jen and I planned on starting in on him again this morning,” Barrington replied. “Want to sit in with Kay.”

  “I am the scary cop. Tom and Jen play the politically correct cops who would never think of harming a deadly terrorist in any way. We are getting very good at it.”

  Rutledge laughed. “Kay’s nearly as scary as you, Cold. With both of you there after yesterday’s action the Russian will probably get right into a talkative mood. Do you have to go back over to the hospital today or work out with the Marines?”

  “I’m going over to Walter Reed tomorrow with Abe for my final look over. I guess Kay told you what we found.”

  “Our special ops guys hit every property the Russian ever set foot on after you called in,” Barrington said. “Diane will get a report on how well they did. They’ll be tracing the weapons all the way back to when they were packed at the factory by the end of the day.”

  “We need to find out exactly what Stevie wanted to do with all that.” McDaniels poured coffee for each of them. “Kay and I would be happy to help him refresh his memory.”

  “I wish you weren’t going back to Iraq, Colonel,” Barrington said. “With you and Kay in the field, Jen and I get to do what we do best. We’re not the best at what happened yesterday.”

  “Diane said you two did just fine. Kay’s told me how professional you two are out in the field. Plus, you both show restraint, which slips my mind once in a while. Anyway, I have to go with the guys overseas until we can get the places I know real well tamed. Abe told me if I go over with the unit again they’ll make me an honorary jarhead. I’d go back just for that.”

  They all shared a laugh over McDaniels’ self-deprecating joke.

  “Damn, those kids are tough,” Rutledge said. “I hope this shit ends soon. They’re still blowing up everything they can get away with. Mosul’s the new hotspot now I heard on the news.”

  “You will save many lives there with your knowledge of Mosul, my friend. I hope our young soldiers have a wonderful Christmas before they have to go back. Ansa wants to get a Christmas tree.”

  “Aren’t you a Muslim, Kay?” Barrington asked.

  “Yes, but I believe there is only one God,” Rasheed replied with a grin. “I doubt he cares whether I put up a Christmas tree or not. Such thinking can get me killed in my homeland but here no one cares. I will put lights on the outside of the house too. The Cold Mountain will help me this weekend. He won’t even need a ladder.”

  “Count me in.”

  “Next year, you may all observe Ramadan with me if you like,” Rasheed offered. “I will seek to convert you infidels without you knowing it.”

  “I’d be glad to.” Rutledge put her arm around Rasheed. “I won’t stop driving my car though, and I’m not wearing a burka.”

  “Very well, Agent Rutledge. You drive a hard bargain.”

  “There are a lot of Christmas lights up already,” Barrington observed. “I love this time of year with the lights and everything. It’s funny, when someone finds out you’re single with no family in the area they automatically put you on a suicide watch over the holidays.”

  “You are all invited over for Christmas at my house,” Rasheed announced as they chuckled over Barrington’s suicide remark, nodding their heads in agreement. “It will be very festive.”

  “Sounds great, Kay,” Barrington agreed. “Don’t you want to check with your wife first?”

  “She suggested it.” Kay gave McDaniels a stern look because he laughed at Barrington’s question. “Perhaps Mr. Reskova could dress up as Santa Claus.”

  “Oh… good one… Kay…” Rutledge said between peals of laughter.

  “When did you come up with that, Kay?” Barrington smiled, looking at McDaniels uneasily as if he thought Rasheed was in danger.

  “He slammed me with it just recently, Tom. You’re enjoying that remark far too much, Jen.”

  “Sor…sorry, Colonel.”

  * * *

  The office door opened and a somber Reskova strode into the room with her briefcase. Reskova halted just inside the door when she spotted the group standing with their coffee cups in hand looking at her quizzically. She brushed her hair back out of her eyes. She smiled, trying not to look at McDaniels directly. After the night before, just the sight of him made her stomach flip-flop. Reskova walked over and set her briefcase down, accepting a cup of coffee from McDaniels who winked at her.

  “Why, Diane, you’re blushing,” Rutledge jumped right in, having seen Reskova’s reaction to McDaniels’ nearness. “Did…”

  “That’ll be enough, Jen, unless you want to get nose surgery today,” Reskova warned. “It was as bad as we thought. Special Ops gathered enough heavy armaments and explosives to equip a small army. They took eighteen men into custody too.”

  “Shit, that will mean more than a little note taking when we see the Russian today,” Rutledge said. “He never mentioned anything about all that, even when he was rattling off the specifics he was using to convince us he was cooperating.”

  “Dreyer wants everything that lying weasel knows.”

  “We were just talking the Colonel into going over with us,” Barrington replied. “I would suggest going at it as we had planned. Jen and I will work all the details in about how much we know now with Kay and the Colonel making Tomashevsky as uncomfortable as possible. You could come along and kick him in the nuts.”

  “Don’t tempt me, Tom. We had a narrow scope which has now broadened into possible plans for bringing down air flights and using poison gas warheads on a school or government building. Stockpiling the WMD’s is bad enough. It’s a whole other problem if they had specific missions in mind.”

  “The inauguration is in January along with the planned elections in Iraq,” McDaniels reminded them. “Making a statement here on either of those occasions would be a big coup for Al Queda.”

  “They’re sweating every one of those possibilities. Aginson wants you to stay here instead of going overseas.”

  “No can do, Boss,” McDaniels said firmly. “I gave Abe my word I’d be with them. With the elections in January the terrorists will be blowing up everything and everyone they can to disrupt them.”

  “I told him you wouldn’t stay. He said he could have you ordered to stay.”

  McDaniels face became a mask of sullen determination. “Wanna bet?”

  “I told him,” Reskova repeated, grasping McDaniels’ hand for a moment. “Anyway, go ahead and see what you can do with Tomashevsky. I have to make a report to the Senate Security Council on how we’re coming along with what we uncovered from the Mercado and C.A.I.R. busts.”

  “A closed door meeting, I hope,” Rutledge put in.

  “Senator Hokansan’s on the Council. We all know how he feels about Cold. He’s a rung up on Aginson too. Aginson told me he explained how sensitive all these leads are. I’ll be all right.”

  “You two make an outline up on how you want to go about this interrogation,” Reskova addressed Bar
rington and Rutledge. She then gestured at McDaniels and Rasheed. “I need to talk with our enforcement arm. Step into my office, gentlemen.”

  Rasheed and McDaniels followed Reskova into her office. She closed the door. “Sit down, guys.”

  Reskova went around her desk. She sat down facing them, still holding her coffee. She took a sip before leaning back in the chair. “Any ideas on how to get through to the Russian if he won’t play nice?”

  “Ah… what would be the boundaries, Boss?” Rasheed asked in return, glancing at McDaniels.

  “The Russian as of this moment does not exist. The Russian embassy is on the hunt for him now. Apparently they’ve already been to his house which we counted on. Special Ops put it back together just the way it was after they took everything of interest. The men we picked up in the sweep think we received the tip somewhere else.”

  “In other words, no boundaries?” McDaniels asked again.

  Reskova leaned forward, putting down her coffee cup and folding her hands in front of her on the desk. “Tom and Jen get first crack at him with you guys looking on, scowling and looking as intimidating as possible. Aginson said to then go with chemicals. If that doesn’t work, progress to whatever you feel is necessary until he tells us what he knows in detail.”

  “He should have told me that and kept you out of the loop. Hell, you have to report to the Senate today. Those assholes plan on going after every one of the President’s appointees using Abu Grahib as a club. How will you handle that if you’re in the know now?”

  “The same way they do: lie - or being as vague and incomprehensible as the Senators are when campaigning.”

  “They have a free pass, Red. You don’t. Why did you get put in the know about the particulars of something that could get you prison time?”

  “Cold is right, Boss. He and I could have been told to do this with you retaining, ah… how do you say… ah… deniability.”

  “No more games on this team, gentlemen,” Reskova said bluntly. “I’m in all the way. I can’t chew out Dreyer for wimping out and then act shocked when it comes to our team’s tactics. As you’ve reminded me many times, Mr. Mountain, we are at war. I’d rather have a tortured terrorist on my conscience than half a million dead Americans. Let’s get back to business - any ideas?”

  “The Russians are pretty brutal. Religious angles won’t work on them at all. The way he howled when you worked him over gives me hope he can be reached the old fashioned way.”

  “I have an idea if nice does not work,” Rasheed said. “We can let the Russian think he’s not to be touched. Then Cold and I could revisit him in his cell in the dead of night. We can pretend like we’ve broken in for the express purpose of a special interrogation.”

  “Not bad, Kay,” McDaniels replied. “If he doesn’t start singing to Tom and Jen, we’ll hook him up for a special IV drip. I’ll bend down and say please don’t tell us anything so Kay and I can come back and see you later. Simple - and I think effective.”

  “It sounds like an adequate start,” Reskova agreed. “We snatched a lot of what he had hoped to sell. He doesn’t appear very religious to me either. I doubt he’s supplying the Chechnyans because of Islamic fundamentalism. Once he knows we have eighteen others to question he may want to deal in earnest.”

  “Even if he does we should kill him anyway.”

  “I’m shocked at your attitude, Kay,” McDaniels cringed away from Rasheed as if in abhorrence. “Shocked, I tell you.”

  Reskova chuckled as she wrote a note on her letterhead and handed it to McDaniels. “You can pick up what you need with this note. I’ll call ahead. I guess you’re familiar enough with the complex to find it.”

  McDaniels nodded. “I know where you mean. I doubt we’ll get past the door.”

  “I’ll have them waiting for you. Go pick up the kit while Tom and Jen finish up in here. Good luck.”

  “We will not need this luck you speak of, Boss,” Rasheed commented on the way out.

  “I’ll bet not,” Reskova said under her breath as McDaniels closed her office door behind him.

  * * *

  “Hello, Mr. Tomashevsky,” Rutledge greeted the Russian as he was brought into the room in chains.

  They had chosen an interrogation room with no windows or mirrored two way walls. It was empty except for the small rectangular table Rutledge and Barrington sat behind. McDaniels and Rasheed stood in front of the table where a hard backed oak chair had been placed. The Special Ops guard handed McDaniels the key to Tomashevsky’s manacles. He then left without a word.

  McDaniels gripped Tomashevsky by the scruff of his neck and abruptly threw him down on the oak chair. McDaniels took off the manacles roughly, smiling at Tomashevsky, who scowled and looked down at his feet. McDaniels stood up with the manacles, turning to toss them noisily off to the side.

  “You had better talk,” McDaniels said in Russian.

  Tomashevsky glanced up at McDaniels, forming a sarcastic retort to snap back in reply. One look into McDaniels’ face prompted him to stay silent. He returned his attention to the floor.

  “I told your people everything I knew,” Tomashevsky said in English.

  “That’s just not true, Stevie.” Barrington walked around the desk and handed the Russian a file folder. “Look through that as my partner and I outline all the things you left out.”

  By the time Barrington was seated beside Rutledge again, Tomashevsky’s face betrayed the grim surprise he felt over the folder’s contents. The FBI agents watched as the Russian looked through the inventory of weapons, explosives, and information relating to money laundering operations. Tomashevsky looked up finally with resignation plain on his face.

  “You must have been very fast,” the Russian conceded. “Which of my men were arrested?”

  Rutledge and Barrington laughed together for a moment before Rutledge spoke.

  “Good one, Stevie. Colonel, would you move Stevie up to the desk so he can write some things down if he wishes?”

  Tomashevsky grunted in surprise as McDaniels picked up the Russian’s chair with him still in it and placed it five feet forward so his chest was against the table edge. McDaniels placed a notepad and pen in front of him. Tomashevsky looked back at McDaniels appraisingly. The look McDaniels gave him in return made the Russian turn away.

  “The window on you swinging a deal with us is closing,” Barrington told him. “We need all the details concerning buyers and how they convey their want lists to you. With the amount and nature of the ordinance we found no one believes you’re just some little dealer scamming a buck here and there. You have first crack at telling us everything.”

  “If you don’t,” Rutledge added on cue, “Colonel McDaniels will question you under less than comfortable conditions with Major Rasheed, formerly of the Iraqi secret police.”

  “You…you’re bluffing,” Tomashevsky replied hesitantly.

  “I don’t think you understand your circumstances here,” Barrington continued. “Your men we captured in the raids and the Russian Embassy think you’re dead. In other words, you don’t exist.”

  Rutledge leaned forward. “Our men have been given orders to find out everything you know. There aren’t any limits on how they can extract the information.”

  Tomashevsky stared at Rutledge for a moment and then at Barrington, who grinned at him. “I…I don’t understand. Are you people some kind of…of rogue operation?”

  Rutledge pointed at the notepad. “First off, what we are doesn’t concern you. We’ve given you the facts in regard to your situation. You know what we want. Give it to us or we’ll extract it. The first thing I want you to do is write down every name you have had contact with. We have your computer hard drives along with the men who were at your real estate holdings when we raided them.”

  “We want every name, every country, every address,” Barrington expanded. “Don’t guess about who we have. Write down everyone. We’ll let you know how you do.”

  McDaniels bent
down next to the Russian, talking in a hushed voice. “Remember, you cannot afford to be wrong, comrade.”

  His hand shaking slightly, Tomashevsky began listing names on the notepad. After a few moments he stopped and looked up at Rutledge questioningly. “If you find I have been truthful, what treatment can I expect?”

  Rasheed grabbed the Russian’s hair, pulling back on it harshly, evoking a cry of pain as Tomashevsky’s head struck the back of the oak chair. Leaning down as McDaniels did without releasing the Russian’s hair, Rasheed whispered fiercely in the man’s ear. When Rasheed released him, Tomashevsky immediately began writing again, his hand barely able to keep the pen steady. Pausing every few moments the Russian tapped the pen on the table, nervously trying to remember. He went back over the list to make sure he had not repeated any names. Twenty minutes later, Tomashevsky set his pen down and tore off the two pages of writing from the notepad. He pushed them toward Rutledge.

  “Everyone is on that list,” Tomashevsky said quietly.

  Rutledge and Barrington stood up with the papers and folders.

  “We’ll be back after we check on how well you’ve done. Our men will see you back to your cell.”

  “Wait!” Tomashevsky screamed out, his hands reaching over the table in supplication. “At least… tell these men to wait until you have checked the information.”

  Rutledge smiled. “Don’t worry. They’ll be very considerate of you for the time being. They just want to see where your cell is. Check you later, Stevie.”

  McDaniels retrieved the manacles, handing them to Rasheed. In moments, Tomashevsky was restrained without comment. When he had finished, Rasheed pulled the Russian to his feet. Guiding the shuffling man along, McDaniels and Rasheed left the room using the door Tomashevsky had come in through. The Special Ops guard was waiting outside the door. The guard looked at McDaniels questioningly.