Rampant Destruction (CERBERUS Book 10)
Page 15
“There!” Nolan smiled down at his captive. “Much better. Sorry about that.” He shook his head. “First time that’s ever happened during an interrogation, I swear!”
Despite his flippant tone, he watched every tiny expression on Agent Styver’s face, every slight shift of the man’s facial muscles and posture. He saw the tight clench of his captive’s jaw, the way Agent Styver’s body seemed to be recoiling from the cloth in his lap. The spot on his shoulder where Nolan had touched him and the droplets on his back, neck, and head only exacerbated things. Indeed, the man looked ready to rip off his own skin just to be free of the true torment.
The implements of torture were all for show. Nolan had no intention—or any need—of carving, cutting, slicing, or skinning any part of Agent Styver’s body. He simply had to prey on Agent Styver’s irrational fear of germs and the man would eventually crack. No R2I training could ever fully eradicate that sort of reflex.
Just as he moved toward Agent Styver, he pretended to accidentally drop the shears onto the floor, then stepped on them. “Oops!” He stooped, retrieved the shears, and plucked them up. “Damn, they’re dirty.” He made a show of spitting on the blades and polishing them against his armor. “Better now.”
He continued his slow advance on his captive, holding the shears out in front of him like a sword. Agent Styver’s eyes were fixed on the steel blades, and for the first time, genuine fear and loathing shone in his eyes.
Nolan had half-expected the man to crack by this point, yet somehow Agent Styver fought to remain in control of himself. His face had begun to squirm, though, as if he was holding in a scream, a shout, and a whimper all at once.
Just a little more, Nolan knew.
He stopped next to Agent Styver’s right leg and set the soiled shears down on his thigh. “Hold onto these for a second.” He pressed a finger to one nostril and prepared to blow out the other, as if expelling a booger. His nostril was aimed right at Agent Styver’s face.
The man’s resistance shattered. “No!” he shrieked. Panic creased his face and genuine terror echoed in his voice. “No, no, no, no!” He writhed in his bonds, his body jerking as he strained to break free. His legs thrashed violently until the shears clattered to the floor, but try as he might, he couldn’t dislodge the stained cloth in his lap.
His breath came faster, his movements growing more and more frantic. The word “No!” poured from his lips over and over. A few seconds later, it changed to shrill cries of “Get it off! Get it off of me!”
Nolan finally allowed the cold, hard smile to play across his lips. R2I training had taught him one thing: every man had their breaking point.
He’d just found Agent Styver’s.
Chapter Eighteen
Nolan stared down at the struggling, hyperventilating Protection Bureau agent without a shred of pity. After everything the bastard had done, he deserved far worse. Fortunately for Agent Styver, Nolan and Warbeast Team wanted something from him.
Passing the shears and corkscrew back to Darren, Nolan moved toward his captive. Agent Styver flinched back—Nolan guessed the man was more afraid of germs than a physical assault—but Nolan simply lifted the soiled cloth from his lap.
It took nearly a full minute for Agent Styver to regain control of his panicked breathing and slow his frantic struggles. When he finally found his voice, he hurled a torrent of invective at Nolan with surprising vehemence. His composure had shattered, his calm, self-assured demeanor had broken, and now the ugly soul beneath had been exposed for all to see.
Nolan said nothing, but his grin broadened with every fresh curse Agent Styver loosed at him. The man seemed to run out of both energy and new curses, finally falling silent.
“Well,” Bex said from behind Nolan, “ain’t you just the saltiest thing ever spat out of a hooker’s mouth?”
Nolan glanced back and found Bex standing in the doorway, a mocking smile on her face. She tore her eyes away from Agent Styver only long enough to give Nolan a nod. So Taia had found nano-scrubbers in the man’s blood.
Interesting, Nolan thought. That’s one more link between the Protection Bureau and Project Icarus.
According to Doctor Sladek, the nano-scrubbers had been crafted by Hemiphore Archer, the nanoroboticist whose sadistic experiments had led Sladek and his daughter to flee in the first place. Somehow, the nanites had ended up in Agent Styver’s bloodstream—SOP for Protection Bureau personnel to make them more resistant to poisons and sedatives? Or was Agent Styver somehow special?
He fully intended to find out.
Nolan turned back to Agent Styver and waved the dirty cloth under the man’s nose, close enough that Agent Styver recoiled.
“Tell me what we want to know and this all stops,” Nolan said. “The more you bullshit us, the messier this gets.” He used the word purposely—to a germaphobe like Agent Styver, that was a threat far worse than pain. “I’ve got a pile of soiled rags, dirty clothes, and what smells an awful lot like rotting meat in the next room. I’ve also been wearing the same outfit for the better part of seventy-two hours, and I can only imagine how sweaty and dirty my shirt, socks, and underwear are.” A bit of an exaggeration, but Agent Styver didn’t need to know that. “Then, of course, there’s always the toilet seat. Or, maybe the toilet with no seat. So unless you want to find out—“
“What do you want?” Agent Styver snapped. “Because from where I’m sitting, you certainly don’t appear to want to live through the day. I meant it when I said this was a colossal mistake, Garrett. You and your little toy soldiers here—Darren Askvig, Cedric Kane, Rebekah Ajeen, somehow still alive”—his face creased into a furious snarl at that; evidently he was less than pleased at finding out Nolan had deceived him—“and I’m guessing Zahra Desai is somewhere nearby—are all dead. You’ve crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed!”
Nolan chuckled. “Funny you should say that.” He moved closer and ran the soiled cloth down Agent Styver’s face, over his mouth and nose, and up onto his head. “I thought exactly the same thing when I found out the Protection Bureau gave the order to lock me up in the Vault.” He kept his voice calm, his tone even, but he couldn’t hide the steel edging his words. “You fucked up by not killing me, Agent Styver. I won’t make the same mistake.”
“Threaten all you want!” Agent Styver’s voice dripped scorn. “Even if you put a bullet in my head, that won’t stop us from hunting you to the ends of—“
“Ends of the galaxy, yes, I know!” Nolan gave a dismissive wave of his right hand, which brushed the soiled cloth against Agent Styver’s face again. “But here’s the thing. You won’t be alive to hunt me down.” He tapped his temple. “You’ll have a bullet in you, remember?”
Agent Styver shrank away from the cloth more than the threat, but he still tried for a defiant glower. “And you expect I’ll bargain for my life?”
“I do!” Nolan plastered on a sweet smile and ran a hand down Agent Styver’s face, relishing the way the man squirmed beneath the contact with his metal gauntlet. “Because you’re not a fanatic, or a zealot, or even a die-hard. No, Agent Styver, you’re something far more practical. You’re the sort of man who sits at a desk and pushes buttons and orders people around, but you’re not the sort to get your hands dirty. Not like us. Our hands are real fucking dirty thanks to you.”
Bex chuckled from the doorway. “I see what you did there, Garrett!”
Nolan kept his expression steady. “I’ve no doubt you’re responsible for hundreds of deaths. Scratch that—I’m going to put that number well into the thousands. But you did all of that from behind a desk. Well away from the blood and spit and sweat and shit of any kind of battlefield.” He planted a booted foot on the chair between Agent Styver’s legs and leaned on his knee, looming over the bound man. “But now you’re in the shit, Agent Styver. You’re up to your eyeballs in it, and there’s only one way out.”
Agent Styver tried to shift his crotch back from Nolan’s boot—to protect his vulnerable parts
or, more likely, to keep his white underwear from being soiled—but the chair’s hard wooden back prevented it. The defiance in his glare wavered a fraction, as if the reality of his situation had finally settled in.
“What do you want?” he hissed.
Nolan hid an inward smile. That was the way of a good interrogation. Force the subject to make the first move, the first offer. After that, everything else grew easier by fractions.
“Two things.” Nolan held up two fingers. “First, I want a way to contact your superiors.”
Agent Styver looked ready to protest, but Nolan drove on over him.
“I’m only doing this because you or someone over your head decided to drop me into the deepest, darkest hole in the Empire.” Nolan leaned lower until his face was mere centimeters from Agent Styver’s, close enough that the man could feel his breath. “But if your superiors decide to let me walk away, to get on with my life, then all this stops.” He walked gauntleted fingers up Agent Styver’s bare chest. “You go back to your clean little white room and your happy little life of ordering people executed, and we never have to cross paths again. Tell me you don’t want that?”
Agent Styver tried to look defiant, but his eyes made it clear that, at the moment, it was what he wanted more than anything else in the world.
“And what’s the second thing?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“You walk me into your office,” Nolan said. “Past all those Black Crows and security measures and prying eyes.”
Agent Styver’s eyes narrowed. “To what end?” he asked, his voice suddenly flat.
“Why, to give me access to your system, of course!” Nolan grinned at him. “You give me access to the Protection Bureau’s servers so I can upload a little virus I’ve had Taia craft for me. Something that will wreak havoc on your entire system unless—and I can’t stress this enough—your superiors, who you’re going to put me in touch with, agree to let me walk away.”
This was the moment of truth, Nolan knew. Agent Styver knew his record—both from his days in the Silverguard and every mission he’d accepted as Cerberus—and knew precisely what Nolan was capable of. He’d made full use of Nolan’s relentlessness, ruthlessness, and training for nearly five years now. He had a tally of how many bodies Nolan had dropped, how many people had never walked away after facing off against Nolan.
There could be no doubt in his mind that Nolan would follow through on any threats he made.
“No.” Agent Styver’s face hardened.
Nolan pulled back. “No?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly?”
“You heard me.” Anger burned in Agent Styver’s eyes. “I will not help you take down everything I’ve worked hard to build. Do your worst to me”—his gaze darted to the soiled cloth in Nolan’s hand, and fear flashed across his face—"but you’ll get nothing from me.”
Nolan stared at the man for long seconds. He narrowed his eyes, leaned closer to Agent Styver, and growled, “You’re sure?” He shoved a gauntleted finger into Agent Styver’s mouth, so suddenly the man had no time to snap his jaw shut. Hooking his finger, Nolan hauled on the man’s cheek so hard Agent Styver cried out. “You’re sure!?” he roared.
“’Eth!” Agent Styver shrieked, his face a mixture of panic, fear, and determination. “’Eth, I ‘ur.”
“Okay.” Nolan straightened and removed his hand from the man’s mouth. “Fair enough.”
Agent Styver, caught off-guard by Nolan’s sudden movement, reeled in wordless surprise.
Nolan smiled at the man’s bewilderment. This had never been about getting answers or gaining access to the Protection Bureau office. At least, not the way Agent Styver believed it. The man had clearly been trained to resist enhanced interrogation, and more than likely he’d pass lie-detector tests, maybe even fool Taia. Nolan wouldn’t have believed a word out of Agent Styver’s mouth or any promises he made.
But it had all been for show.
“Taia, you got everything we need?” Nolan asked aloud.
“Affirmative.” Taia’s voice echoed from the bedroom’s speaker system. “All biometric identifiers have been collected and duplicated.”
Agent Styver’s jaw dropped.
Nolan didn’t give the man a chance to ask questions. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode from the bedroom. Master Sergeant Kane and Bex joined him, and Darren moved to close the door behind them. He’d keep an eye on their prisoner until they decided what to do with him. For the moment, his usefulness to them had ended.
Zahra glanced up from where she sat keeping watch on the Protection Bureau building through the telephoto lens. “That sounded fun.”
“I’m not going to lie,” Nolan said, “I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected. Nice to see the fucker squirm.” He turned his attention to the holo-screen. “How long until you’ve got everything ready to go, Taia?”
“I will need five minutes and six seconds,” Taia replied. “Duplicating the full vocal range of Agent Styver’s voice print will be simple enough, thanks to all the audio I’ve recorded during the interrogation. The footage captured via your optical cameras made it easy to analyze and replicate his retinal patterns, and I can use my smart cells to duplicate his fingerprints on Mrs. Askvig’s gauntlets to bypass any fingerprint scanners.”
Nolan grinned. Darren had recorded all of Agent Styver’s fingerprints while binding the man to his chair, but Nolan had enjoyed gathering the rest of the biometric markers.
“I’ve already begun breaking a portion of the blood sample you took,” Taia said, “which should bypass any hemoanalysis security. However, reproducing the precise DNA composition of Agent Styver’s saliva, which I’ve lifted from your gauntlet, is a bit more delicate, especially when it comes to crafting a saliva substitute that won’t mix with Mrs. Askvig’s saliva.”
Nolan glanced at Zahra. “Desai—” he began.
“Don’t start, Garrett.” Zahra didn’t look up from the telephoto lens. “I’m the closest to his size and build, which makes me the right one to wear the disguise. And if what Taia’s told me about Chameleon’s mask is true, then I’ll have no trouble passing for Agent Styver.” Her tone was dismissive—Nolan might not like this part of the plan, but that didn’t stop it from being the plan they’d go with. “With the three Djinns watching my back and Taia to help me get past all the security, I’ll be fine.”
Nolan frowned, but a look from Bex made it clear that he’d be an idiot to keep pressing the issue. He let out a long breath and dropped the matter. Zahra could more than handle herself, even on this dangerous mission to infiltrate the Protection Bureau’s stronghold in disguise as Agent Styver. He just hated the idea of someone else putting themselves in harm’s way while he had no choice but to sit and watch and wait. He’d always been more comfortable being the one taking the fight to the enemy. For this, however, he had to go along with it. Plan Bravo was their best choice.
“All right,” he said, turning to Bex. “Break out that Chameleon mask from the crates, and I’ll get to work—“
“Something’s wrong,” Zahra said. Worry rang in her voice. “They’re overdue.”
Nolan’s head whipped around toward her. “What?”
Zahra didn’t look up from the lens, but instead leaned into it and used it to scan their target building. “It’s been eighteen minutes since the last Black Crow sweep,” she said. “Even with the staggered time frame, that’s outside their standard deviation of randomization.”
Nolan frowned. “That’s—“
“Nolan, I just detected a covert outgoing signal beacon transmitting from our current location,” Taia said. “It’s coming from Agent Styver!”
Nolan spun toward the bedroom as the sound of harsh, cold laughter echoed from beyond the closed door. He raced to the room and threw open the door.
Agent Styver, still sitting bound to the chair, fixed him with a mocking smile. He hadn’t truly been brave or defiant—he’d simply stalled for time.
Chapter Nineteen
Nolan crossed the room in two long steps and drove a fist into Agent Styver’s face. “You goddamned piece of shit!”
The impact sent Agent Styver and the chair toppling backward. He screamed as his weight atop the wooden chair crushed his bound wrists. Yet through his pain, he stared up at Nolan with a grin that bordered on manic.
“Do it, Cerberus!” he shouted. “Put a bullet in my head, and seal your doom once and for all!” A hard light shone in his eyes. “You’re not our only asset of any value. There are so many, many more to take your place.” His gaze flashed toward Darren, who hadn’t moved to intervene, then toward the open bedroom door and into the room beyond. “Your friends here have been free to run to the end of their leashes, but the moment they laid a hand on me, they spelled their own doom! All of them are going to end up in a tank, just like your brother!”
Nolan seized Agent Styver by the throat and, with a mighty wrench, hauled the man and chair back upright. Agent Styver groaned at the pain in his wrists, but his eyes never left Nolan’s.
“But you, they’re going to put you down like the rabid—“
“Shut the fuck up!” Nolan drove a fist into the man’s jaw. Agent Styver sagged, unconscious.
“Askvig!” Master Sergeant Kane called from the main room. “Jock up, now!”
Nolan heard Darren’s heavy footsteps leave the bedroom, but he was focused on the task at hand. Mentally, he said to Taia, “Scan Agent Styver to locate that outgoing signal.”
He extended his gauntleted hand, and Taia shifted the smart steel threads from his gauntlet to form what looked like a tiny antenna.