As his arms were pulled relentlessly upward, he sank lower, sweat breaking out over his whole body. Finally he heard the snap of the chain and the tugging stopped. His face was inches from the floor. Squatting down beside him, Capello snickered. “Care to tell me who helped you escape? Want to tell me where the CIA’s jet is hidden? Are you ready to tell me about the terror network you’ve built?”
Grunting with the effort, he turned his head and stared through clumps of hair into the sadistic eyes, speaking to his tormentor for the first time. “No.” Closing his eyes, he let his head hang.
Capello’s shoes scraped the gritty floor as he scrambled to his feet. “You think about it Milani, and we’ll check on you later. The next step won’t be so pleasant, so you may want to reconsider.” Shuffling footsteps receded and the steel door clanged shut. His arms and shoulders burned and the cuffs bit into his bandaged wrists. Humiliation ran deep, like a black river through his soul, but nothing Capello did to him would ever make him admit to treason or betray his friends.
Taking short, panting breaths, he closed his eyes and clenched his fists, trying to resist the pain and withdraw. Desperate for refuge, his agonized mind focused on Danielle and the weekend they’d spent in Chicago. Filled with the fierce desire to know every part of her, he’d explored her body with his hands, mouth, and tongue. While she lay on the bed with her head flung back, he’d fanned her dark red hair across the pillow. He loved the color of her hair, eyes, and skin – so exotic, so different from his.
He’d kissed first her face, then her lips and neck. Moving lower, he’d marveled at her breasts, cupping them in his hands. Wanting to taste them – taste her, he’d covered first one and then the other with his mouth, ran his tongue around the pink nipples and scraped the tips with his teeth until she writhed and gasped at the sensations. Her face, dazed with pleasure, swam in front of him, and he wished he could touch it. Smiling sweetly, voice thick with seduction, she’d pulled him down on top of her, whispering… Oh Rowan, let’s do this. I can’t wait any longer. She’d been ready for him too, hot and slick when he slid inside her. When she wrapped her arms and legs around him, he’d made her body his own.
She was everything he could ever want, and now… He stared at the concrete and watched drops of sweat from his face hit the floor, joining the pooling mess beneath his body. At some point he’d lost control of his bladder, and now the stench of sour sweat and urine stung all through his nasal cavities and his nose ran in a steady stream. The muscles in his back, arms and legs cramped continually and he couldn’t stop trembling. Groaning, he closed his eyes again and gave in to the pain. She would never know how much he wanted her, how much he missed her, and how much he loved her.
* * *
Thursday Afternoon
Focused with total concentration on the lines of code flickering on the screen in front of him, Chad wondered if the dull ache that persisted in his head after six aspirin would ever go away. He’d been working nonstop on hacking into Quantico’s computer system. The brig records were his primary target. He needed to make sure there was no imminent plan to transfer Rowan out of their reach.
The screen changed. Hot damn, he’d done it. Rubbing his palms vigorously, he surveyed the new information. Someday there would be someone, somewhere who would truly appreciate his hacking abilities. Now, hopefully he could decipher the brig records about his friend.
Oh hell. The FBI had transferred custody of Rowan to the CIA? Frowning, he kept reading. It was happening, just like his father had said. They were going to rendition Rowan to Torah Prison in Egypt. Grabbing his phone, he speed dialed Michael’s number, wiping a sweaty hand on his pants while he waited. “C’mon Michael, answer your damn phone.” Relieved to hear the tired, irritable voice, his shoulders sagged. “They’re already planning to move Rowan. They’re sending him to Torah Prison.”
Michael’s calm determination helped stem the rising tide of panic. “All right, now we have something to work with. Do they have a time frame yet, and if so, how detailed?”
Mind racing, he wiped his eyes and squinted at the screen. “Let me see… So far all they have is a seventy-two hour window, nothing about a specific time yet.”
Michael cursed. “We have to go in now. Within the next twenty-four hours. Otherwise we risk losing track of him. And who knows, Ainsley may have smartened up since the last time and decide to transport him, somewhere else this time, by some other means. Bottom line, we move now.”
Chad leaned back in his chair and twisted his shoulders, certain he’d never felt so dazed and ineffectual. “What do you need from Ralph and me?”
Michael sounded like a drill sergeant. “Keep hacking. Find out everything you can from Ainsley’s records. When Ralph gets in, have him call me. We’ll coordinate vehicles and other things we may need through him. Gabriel and I will head back to D.C. as soon as Jerry and Bryan get some rest. My rough estimate puts us back with you guys by sometime tomorrow morning. I’ll keep you informed.”
Chad snapped his phone closed and sat it on the desk. Pausing to crack his knuckles and yawn, he decided Ainsley’s system would be his next goal. But first he needed to make some coffee. Hoping desperately that his brain would function well enough for him to accomplish what needed to be done, he stood up and headed for the kitchen.
* * *
Rowan lay back on the narrow bed. At some point the guards had come and released the chains, hauling him out of the interrogation cell and to the showers. Then they dressed him, because he’d been too weak to do it himself. Since he wouldn’t move obediently to the door like they wanted, the cuffs and leg irons stayed on. And to make it more difficult, they used a waist chain, so he couldn’t scratch himself or wipe his damned running nose. It was still cold – bone chilling – and his teeth chattered constantly.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, sometime before, but he didn’t know how long he’d been in the brig. His existence had narrowed to panicked waiting, wondering, while his heart slammed against his chest, if the next time the door opened it would be Sal Capello or maybe the two CIA thugs, ready to finish what they’d started in the deserted warehouse in Sioux Falls. Closing his eyes, he laid there, unable to stop the quivering in his arms and legs.
The lock turned and the steel door swung open. Strong hands grabbed him and yanked him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Agent Capello paced angrily back and forth in the small cell while he sat hunched over, shoulders twitching in fiery agony. “I’ve had enough screwing around with you, Milani. I want some answers and you are going to give them to me. See, I just received a call. I still can’t believe this…”
Anxiety turning to panic, he cringed when the agent threw up his hands. “It seems that your family and your girlfriend have disappeared. And I’ll be a son of a bitch, but your girlfriend’s housemate or whatever the hell you want to call him, is gone too.”
While the agent stared at him, he swallowed hard. Evidently Chad had been successful at getting everyone out of danger. But Derek? Capello whacked him across the face, knocking him to the floor. Lying on the cold concrete, he tasted blood from re-torn lips. The fall jarred his sore muscles and joints, leaving him gasping. The stinging slap made his eyes water and he blinked up at the red-faced man, waiting for the agent to kick him. But instead, two guards rushed in and jerked him to his feet.
Rage glowed in Capello’s eyes. “Listen, you’re going to talk to me. Do you understand? I’ve had it up to here with your stubborn, badass attitude. If I have to, I swear, I’ll beat it out of you. Now – where the hell are these people?”
Searching for escape from the enraged agent, he closed his eyes. A blow to his solar plexus brought him back to reality and doubled him over, just as a blinding flash of insight told him where Danielle and the others were hidden. Chad had talked about an old family estate on Kauai, secluded and cleverly deeded in such a way that it could never be traced. He wished to God he hadn’t thought
of that and wondered if the cunning agent would be able to tell. The guards forced him upright, and he dragged in a choking breath.
Capello glared at him. “Still nothing to say? All right then, we’ll move on.” Gesturing to the guards, the agent turned and walked from the cell. Poker-faced as always, the men marched him along after the CIA agent, who strode purposefully down the hall. Capello stopped in front of a door, but it wasn’t the usual interrogation cell. The guards unlocked it and pulled him inside. The smell of chlorine and a blast of humid air enveloped him. Oh no – he couldn’t let them do this.
Bracing his body, he tried to resist, even though he knew it was futile. One of the guards buckled his knees, and together they laid him on a board. They strapped his legs tight and the board tilted down. The guards kneeled on either side, gripping his arms. A heavy black mask slid over his eyes, and Sal Capello’s thick hands caressed his face.
The sound of cellophane tearing struck terror deep inside, and the CIA agent confirmed his desperate thoughts. “You ever been water boarded, Milani, maybe during your FBI training? We’re through giving you a pass, so do you want to start talking to me? Tell me where your family and friends are hiding.”
They couldn’t make him talk, no matter what they did. Shaking his head between the massive hands, he waited. The cellophane covered his nose and mouth. When the water started, he sucked the plastic into his mouth, felt his back arching, his body bucking, trying to escape, and trying to breathe. Panic-stricken, he knew he was drowning.
The guards pushed down on his chest and forced his body flat. Twisting in agony, he thought he was screaming, but all he heard was pouring water and the thundering of his heart. It would never end, because he would never tell them anything. And then he was aspirating water and struggling to raise his head. Capello lifted the mask from his eyes and ripped the cellophane off his face.
Gasping, wheezing, he saw a blurred vision of the agent, grinning down at him. “All right, how about now? Are you ready to tell me about your foreign terrorist associations and your domestic terror network? What about your girlfriend and your family? Where the hell are they?” Shaking his head weakly, he wished he had the strength to say fuck you.
The agent cursed and slid the mask over his eyes again. The sound of cellophane tearing had him fighting, but he was no match for the guards. Once more it covered his nose and mouth and the water poured. Body wrenching in anguish, he fought until Capello ripped the plastic off his face and lifted the black mask.
Soaking wet, chest heaving, he blinked at the leering visage above him. The agent chuckled. “I’m late for a dinner engagement, but when I come back, we’re going to have another chat. If I don’t get any answers, we’ll do this again, with my own twist. Guards, keep trying and see if you can convince him to talk.” Capello chuckled again. “And make sure he’s hydrated, so the damn doctors in the infirmary stay off my back.”
* * *
Michael didn’t think he had the strength to resist Danielle as she stood facing him just outside the front door of the house. But he had to try to make her see reason. Who knew what kind of shape they’d find Rowan in after almost a week in CIA custody? Would she be able to hold up or would she become a hindrance? This would be the boldest extraction of Rowan Milani he’d ever attempted, and the fact that they were conducting it more or less by the seat of their pants didn’t help his frame of mind.
Danielle’s eyes zeroed in on his like a laser, and she shook a finger in his face. “I am coming with you to Washington, D.C., Michael. I’m not asking your permission, I’m informing you. When you bring Rowan to that jet, I will be waiting for him. There’s no telling what he’s been through or what he’ll need.”
Scraping his fingers viciously through the ragged stubble on his jaw, he hoped he could remain civil. She was an intelligent, beautiful woman that he respected, but now… “Danielle, please believe me, I am well schooled in extracting Rowan from dangerous situations and am also well versed in what to expect. Gabriel is a medic and has treated him more than once. We will deliver him back here to you within the next twenty-four hours, safe and reasonably sound. Why can’t you accept that? Leave the hard work to us and be ready to help Rowan once he’s here.”
But no, Danielle stood there shaking her head, a defiant, almost desperate look on her face and it dawned on him that she was just as damned stubborn as Rowan. “No, I want to, and I will be on that jet when he steps inside. That’s the end of it. Please Michael, he’s there because of me. I can’t sit here and wait, I just can’t.”
When he saw the misery in her eyes and heard the note of entreaty creep into her voice, he knew he’d let her come with them. “All right Danielle, get whatever you need, because Jerry and Bryan will be ready to leave in thirty minutes.” Angry with himself for giving in, he glared at her. “Remember, we don’t know if he’ll be injured or in his right mind or just exactly what will be going on. Now, when we arrive, you will not exit the aircraft. Do you understand?”
Waiting, brows rising until Danielle muttered a quiet, “Yes I do,” he continued.
“And one more thing – if Gabriel and I don’t come back after a pre-determined length of time, Jerry and Bryan have been instructed to get the hell out of Dodge. You will accept that and not interfere with their decision. Because if we don’t show up with Rowan, it means we’ve failed and have been arrested. We’re playing with our lives here, Danielle. That’s why I’m not enthused about your company on this trip.”
Danielle stared at him, arms crossed. “As long as I can be with Rowan, I can handle anything. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine. I won’t cause you any problems.”
Throwing his hands in the air in defeat, he did his best to smile. “Get your stuff and meet me back here right away.” Turning away, so dead-ass tired he could barely think, he wondered if the cluster fuck would ever be over. Once he deposited Rowan safely in this annoying woman’s arms, he planned to crawl into bed and not come out for a very, very long time. And he didn’t care if he ever stepped foot inside another airplane.
* * *
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Thursday Evening
Sal Capello laid the linen napkin on his plate and plucked a plastic wrapped toothpick from a small china container. Surveying the Egyptian man across the table in the dimly lit restaurant, he marveled at the fountain of information the man had been. Even Rodney had been slack-jawed at what Muusa Shemal calmly revealed over dinner. Tucked into an intimate corner of Brabo, Ainsley’s favorite Old Town Alexandria restaurant, adjacent to the Lorien Hotel where Shemal was staying, the three of them had enjoyed a sumptuous meal.
Once they’d exchanged introductions and settled on a lucrative sum for his services as Rowan Milani’s CIA handler, their Egyptian friend had pontificated nonstop about his experiences with the faithful throughout America. Only the arrival of his foie-gras-stuffed ravioli and seared turbot with gnocchi and artichokes had finally ended the man’s diatribe. The steak Sal preferred had been delectable.
Chuckling sardonically, he worked the toothpick between his teeth. Ralph Johnston and Chad Cantor were in a world of shit. He’d nearly choked on his steak when Shemal announced that they’d been the ones to disable Seth Hancock and Lucien Talbot the night Milani disappeared. Aiding and abetting… What the hell had those two been thinking? Did they honestly believe their colleague was innocent? That they’d risked their careers and freedom gave him pause. Why would they do that if they didn’t think Rowan Milani was innocent of the charges he faced?
With a faint smile for the two men chatting quietly across the table, he thought deliciously of the task he remained committed to completing. After they lingered over coffee, and the dessert Ainsley had to have, he was heading back to the brig. He’d instructed his agents to be ready. It was going to be a long night for Rowan Milani. How the man remained so pigheaded and defiant was beyond his understanding. But the next step would break him. The stubborn jerk would tell h
im everything he wanted to know after being water boarded with a cracked rib or two. Even the toughest ones always did. No one could handle that kind of pain.
* * *
Pausing in his quest to hack into Rodney Ainsley’s personal computer, Chad rubbed his forehead and decided he needed a break. Dumping his cold coffee and refilling the cup, he wandered into the living room of his father’s apartment. Grabbing the remote and switching on the TV, he sat on the edge of the sofa to peruse the headlines. With a hand over his mouth, he stared in disbelief as the anchor soberly related the latest FOX News Alert.
“Authorities in the Washington, D.C. area are seeking former FBI special agent Chad Cantor and Ralph Johnston, Special Agent in Charge of an FBI Anti-Terrorism Task Force, in connection with aiding and abetting terror suspect Ismail Hassani, formerly known as FBI special agent Rowan Milani, who escaped from custody last March. Arrest warrants have been issued for both Cantor and Johnston.”
“Oh no – hell no.” This complicated things considerably. Jumping at the sound of the door, he looked up as Ralph entered the vestibule, arms full of the last minute medical supplies Gabriel had requested. Gesturing at his colleague, he turned back to the TV. “You’re not going to believe this. I don’t know how it happened, but we’re on FOX News right now, wanted in connection with Rowan.”
Ralph dumped the supplies on the sofa and stared, first at the TV and then at him. “Now what are we going to do? We can’t pick up the rental vehicle Michael set up, or help them with any aspect of getting Rowan out of Quantico.”
Consummate Betrayal Page 25