by Joshua Hood
“I have the vehicle. He is approaching the intersection. He is moving south now in the second lane,” another man said.
“What is your location?” Zeus asked. The man answered and Zeus advised that they were two minutes away.
Mason’s heart was pounding as the different cars radioed information back and forth. Somehow they had to catch him out in the open but away from anyone who might be watching.
“He just turned in the middle of the road. The target is moving north. I cannot get to him.”
“Shit, don’t lose him,” Mason said.
The radio fell silent as Tarek passed a slow-moving van and gunned the engine. Mason was looking for the white car, but it was dark and he couldn’t tell the color of the cars until after they had passed. Luckily, traffic was light, but it would be easy to lose a tail in the city.
“I have him. He’s parked the car in an alley and is on foot moving southeast.”
Mason was sweating in the backseat as he tried to picture Decklin’s movements. The target could have been getting food or he could have been meeting with someone who’d notice if he didn’t show up. He realized that his muscles were tensed up and he tried to make himself relax.
“Okay, he’s going into the store.”
Mason let out the breath he had been holding as the seconds ticked by. Working off the assumption that he would head back to his car, Mason began setting up the grab.
“Zeus, I say we take him at the car. If he gets mobile again, we could lose him.”
The Libyan nodded and asked for the exact location of the alley. As soon as it came over the radio, Tarek made a quick turn and cut across oncoming traffic. Turning onto the next street, he continued west for a moment before slowing down.
“There it is.” He pointed to the nondescript sedan parked at the edge of the alleyway. Two modest buildings on either side appeared to be closed for the day. Mason was looking for a place to set the ambush, but the car was parked in an excellent spot to prevent that.
“Okay, head down the street and turn around. We’re going to have to wait until he comes to us, and then we hit him.”
Tarek continued down the street. Mason couldn’t believe he was about to attempt a drive-by with a Chinese Taser. If it didn’t work, they were going to have to subdue Decklin before he could get to a gun.
“The target is coming out of the store with a bag. He is heading back toward the car.”
“Keep us updated. We need to know exactly where he is,” Zeus said.
“Ask him what he’s wearing,” Mason said from the back.
“What is the target wearing?”
“He has on blue pants and a gray jacket.”
“Well, that’s not very helpful. I hope these little prongs will go through the jacket.”
Tarek turned the car around and was waiting fifty meters away from the alley. He left his lights on to avoid unnecessary attention, but he couldn’t stay in the street for long.
“Target is one street away and moving north.”
“If he doesn’t go down, I need you to be ready with a flashbang.”
Zeus set the radio in the center console and pulled a bang from his kit. Using his fingers, he bent the wires securing the pin to the spoon so it would be easier to deploy.
“Two hundred meters.”
“It’s on you. Tarek, don’t fuck this up.” Mason had the Taser out and flexed his fingers around the pistol grip. Rolling down the window, he twisted in his seat to give himself the best angle possible.
Tarek slowly inched forward as he mentally kept track of the distance. It was hard tracking someone without a visual, and if he was wrong they could pass him.
The radio crackled. “He should be coming out onto the street any moment now.”
Mason was searching for the first glimpse of the target as Tarek pushed on the accelerator. A car behind them honked and flashed its lights just as Decklin appeared in front of them. The car was right on their ass and Tarek was afraid to let it pass.
“Shit, go around, you fucker,” Mason said as Decklin looked up in preparation for crossing the street. They were about fifty meters away and running out of room. Just as the target was stepping into the street, the car passed and the driver stuck his hand obscenely out of the window.
Decklin threw his hands up and cursed in Arabic. “Watch where you are driving, fool,” he said before slamming the palm of his hand on the rear quarter panel of the passing car.
He looked directly at Tarek, who was now cruising along, and then focused on his car. Sticking his right hand into his pocket, he extracted his keys as they pulled alongside him.
Mason brought the Taser up and extended it out the window as Decklin turned his head to look at the vehicle. His finger had already closed around the trigger and the two metal leads shot out with an audible pop. Zeus was preparing to pull the pin as they stuck into Decklin’s leg, and the Taser sent a jolt of electricity down the wires.
Tarek slammed on the brakes, sending Mason’s face into the headrest. Decklin jolted as the volts hit his central nervous system and then dropped like a stone. Zeus leapt out of the truck and was on him a second after he hit the ground. The Libyan hit him with a savage strike to the side of his head to ensure he was incapacitated before slipping a pair of flex cuffs out of his back pocket.
Mason could hear Tarek on the radio calling for Jamal to come get the car as he pulled a black bag out of his back pocket and slipped it over the target’s head.
Lifting him over the bed of the truck, they dropped him in. Mason reached into Decklin’s waistband and secured his pistol while Zeus slipped another pair of flex cuffs around his ankles and pulled them tight. Before covering him up with a tarp, Zeus stuck a hypodermic needle in the target’s neck and pushed down on the plunger. Decklin wasn’t going anywhere for the time being.
Jumping back into the cab, Tarek hit the gas. From start to finish they had spent less than a minute securing the package. The radio came to life a final time as one of the trail vehicles dropped someone off to get Decklin’s car. Mason lit a cigarette before punching the back of Zeus’s seat in triumph. It was the only emotion he showed.
• • •
Back at the safe house, Mason attached the camcorder to the stand and flipped open the small viewing screen. He could clearly see the man secured to the chair and the table to his right. Three buckets of water, two plastic squeeze bottles, a towel, and a fire extinguisher were laid out on the table next to the hooded figure.
Zeus walked in front of the camera and began questioning Decklin in Arabic. The American demanded to know where he was and why he’d been captured.
“You are spy of the Jews,” Zeus began as he circled the man with a length of garden hose dangling from his hands. “You will tell me the truth or I will hurt you.”
“I am not a spy. I work with the United Nations. There has been a mistake.”
“Do not lie to me!” Zeus yelled as he whipped the hose across Decklin’s legs. “We know who you are and you will tell us the truth.”
“I swear to you.”
The hose cut through the air with a buzz as Zeus brought it over his head and down on Decklin’s legs with an echoing thwack.
Decklin shot straight up in the chair as the pain washed over him. Behind the hood his mouth opened wide and he screamed. Zeus waited for the man’s scream to die out before hitting him again. Decklin writhed in agony as Tarek came behind him and applied a chokehold to his neck. Mason could hear him gasping for air as Zeus struck him again.
“You will not lie to me!” he yelled in his ear. Tarek let go before he passed out. Mason lit a cigarette as Zeus and Tarek took turns beating and choking him. Zeus’s shirt was soaked with sweat after ten minutes, and he tossed the hose on the table.
The chair was constructed to pivot into a reclining position. Each leg had a pin that Zeus removed while Tarek held on to the top of the chair. Once they were removed, the chair pivoted backward until it lay flat. He bolted it into
a metal pipe secured to the floor.
Zeus walked over to the table, grabbed a white towel, and tossed it to Tarek. As Tarek pulled the towel flat across the man’s face, Zeus filled an old metal can with water from one of the buckets. Mason held his cigarette in one hand and grabbed an empty bucket with the other. Placing it on the ground below Decklin’s head, he moved out of the way.
“I promise that no one knows you are here, my friend, and no one is coming to get you. The quicker you tell us what we need to know, the quicker this will all be over,” Zeus whispered in his ear.
Decklin tried to speak, but his words were muffled.
“I don’t want your lies right now, my friend. I want you to sit and think about your situation. I know how long a man can hold out. So why put yourself through the pain when all you have to do is tell me what I want to know?”
Zeus slowly poured water over the towel spread across Decklin’s face. The water seeped through the thin towel and then made its way down his nose. Decklin could only hold his breath for so long before his survival instincts kicked in, and once his mind sent the panic signal, he opened his mouth to breathe.
They had to be careful not to drown him, so Zeus poured the water slowly and waited for Mason to tell him to stop. Mason would nod when enough time had passed. The towel would be taken off his face and Decklin would cough and sputter for air until the towel was reapplied and the process was repeated. Each time Decklin was given just long enough to clear his lungs and grab a few breaths before the waterboarding continued.
Mason had learned this technique from the CIA in Iraq. He’d been taught what a man could take and what signs to look for to avoid killing the subject. Before he had been allowed to lead his own interrogation, he’d gone through his own session of waterboarding.
The terror that came with the drowning sensations could break even the strongest man. He had seen it break most detainees after only a few minutes. Mason didn’t have the time to systematically break this man down, and he knew that you could only beat on a prisoner for so long before they started lying. They would tell you whatever they thought you wanted to know if you hit them long enough.
Zeus stopped after the second session to refill the can with water, which gave Decklin enough time to catch his breath. His body was shaking and he was close to going into shock. As the Libyan approached with the water he yelled, “Okay, I’ll tell you.”
Zeus spoke kindly. “I want you to realize, my friend, that we know who you are and will tolerate none of your lies. The first lie that comes from your lips will force me to start over.”
“I don’t work for the United Nations, I work for the British government—I’m looking for weapons.”
“Is that why you were in Tripoli? Were you looking for weapons? I told you what will happen if you lie to me.”
“Enough of this. Set him upright. I’ll get the truth,” Mason said in Arabic. He didn’t have time to play games with Decklin, and he knew all too well the training they had been through to resist this type of questioning. “My brother thinks that he can lie to us and we will not know. I guess I must show him how wrong he is.” Tarek and Zeus quickly set the chair upright, allowing Mason to move an industrial light around and aim it at Decklin’s face. He motioned for the hood to be removed.
“It’s been a long time, Decklin.” Mason switched to English and watched his old friend squirm under the powerful light. His face was bruised and bleeding and was beginning to swell. “You’ve been busy, I hear.”
Decklin’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, and as soon as he saw Mason’s face his eyes opened wide with fear.
“Mason, shit, I—”
“You what, thought I was dead? Your friend Vernon tried, but it didn’t work out. I’m trying to get my head around what’s going on, but I’m not having any luck. I was hoping you could help me out.” Mason walked over to the table and grabbed one of the squeeze bottles before turning back to the chair. “I’m going to be real honest with you, buddy. You’re not leaving this room alive, so the only thing you need to focus on right now is how much pain you are willing to go through before I put a bullet in your skull.”
He didn’t have an ounce of sympathy for the man who had tried to kill him twice in the last month. If Decklin wanted to act like a hero, then Mason was going to make him pay for it. The American held up the squeeze bottle in front of his would-be assassin’s eyes and let him get a good look at it before he squeezed the bottle and sprayed its liquid contents over the man’s legs. The smell of gasoline filled the room. Mason took his Zippo from his pocket and held it up for Decklin to see.
“So, what’s it gonna be?” The Zippo’s lid clicked open with a metallic snap and he used his thumb to spark the flint. Slowly he knelt down and touched the lighter to Decklin’s pant legs, which ignited in a rush of orange flame.
Decklin tried kicking his legs in an attempt to put out the fire, but they were tied to the chair. The smell of burning fabric mixed with the black smoke of the gasoline as the flames crept greedily toward his waist.
“Mason, pleaaaase . . . ,” Decklin yelled as the fire burned away the fabric and licked at the exposed skin of his legs. Mason squeezed more gas from the bottle and the fire jumped higher as the accelerant nourished the flames.
“What’s it going to be? You want to burn to death for that piece of shit Barnes?”
The smell of burning flesh hit Tarek like a slap to the mouth and he recoiled in horror at the sizzling sound.
Decklin was screaming, but the soundproof walls absorbed his howls. He pleaded with Mason for mercy, but his old teammate just watched. Fire had its place in healing and justice, but when Decklin passed out from the pain, Mason felt nothing.
Zeus stood by with the fire extinguisher, and when Mason told him to put the fire out, he sprayed the white chemical across the unconscious man’s legs.
“Tarek, you need some water or something?” Mason asked in Arabic.
“No, I will be fine. I have never seen this technique.” He was visibly shaken, but he was in control of himself.
“Mason, are you sure this is the best way? We can give him the drugs if you want.” Zeus checked Decklin’s pulse, careful not to brush against his blistered legs. “If we kill him, we get nothing.”
“He’ll talk, trust me. He once told me that his biggest fear was burning alive. Just give him the adrenaline.”
Zeus picked up a syringe from the table and jabbed the needle into Decklin’s neck. He was careful with the dose, giving him just enough to wake him up but not enough to blow his heart. The man jumped up in the chair, the veins in his arms bulging against the plastic restraints.
“Welcome back, bro. As I was saying, why don’t you fill me in on what you and Vernon were planning?” Mason squeezed another spurt of gas over his crotch and then waited with the Zippo.
“What the fuck do you want to know?” he screamed.
“Why are you in Libya?”
“To kill you.”
“Yeah, I know that part. Who’s running Barnes?”
Mason made a menacing movement with the lighter and Decklin tried to squirm away, his eyes wide with horror. “I don’t fucking know,” he yelled.
“Suit yourself.” Mason set the lighter to Decklin’s gas-soaked crotch and stepped back as he went up in flames. “Maybe I won’t shoot you. Maybe I’ll throw your body into the street so the dogs can get to you. If you’re lucky and they don’t eat you, maybe some nice person will take you to the hospital. I’m sure they’re real nice in Libya.” Mason had to yell over Decklin’s agonized screams. “You ever visited a burn ward?”
“Vernon was working for Colonel Barnes,” Decklin screamed as the flames burned through his pants and sizzled his flesh. “He bought some chemical shit from a doctor in the States. He got the guy to weaponize it.”
“Okay. So Barnes hooks up with Vernon; what’s the next target? Who’s running the op?”
Zeus stepped forward with the fire extinguisher, but Mason bl
ocked his path.
“I don’t know, I just picked it up and dropped it off. I swear.” Decklin was beginning to hyperventilate, but Mason didn’t care.
“Mason, he’s going to die,” Zeus shouted as he tried to get past.
Mason knew he was close and refused to back down.
“Fuck him. Tell me, damn it.”
“He can’t tell you if he’s dead.” The Libyan pushed Mason out of the way and mashed down the extinguisher’s handle. The flames had burned a blackened hole in the man’s crotch and lower abdomen. The stench was overpowering and bits of pink flesh were poking out of the terrible wound.
Mason didn’t care how much pain the man was in. He was going to get the answers he needed or kill the man trying. Snatching the syringe off the table, he held it up in front of the man’s face. Decklin’s head lolled to his shoulder, his mouth stretched wide as he screamed.
“You want morphine, then talk.”
“Mason, look what you did to me . . .”
“Where’s Barnes?”
“He’s in Pakistan,” Decklin whimpered.
There was no fight left in the man’s eyes. He was dying and everyone knew it. His beard was matted with blood and saliva, and the bottom half of his destroyed body was still smoking. Blood, fat, and melted fabric dripped from his legs and collected in a puddle near his feet.
“There is a safe house in the city with all my gear. It’s got everything you want to know on it. Please kill me,” he begged.
“Tell me the address.”
Decklin was fading fast and softly told him the address.
“Who’s running the operation? Someone is giving Barnes intel, who is it?”
“It’s Swift, General fucking Swift,” he panted.
The hugeness of the confession was not lost on Mason, but he knew he couldn’t let up yet.
“What’s the next target?”
“Syria . . . the computer . . . it’s all there.”
Decklin’s head slumped forward and he passed out.
“What do we do now? More adrenaline might kill him,” Zeus said.
“The pain will wake him up,” Mason said as he capped the syringe and tossed it back on the table. “We need to get to the safe house. I can promise you that it’s going to be wired tight.”