The MP hesitated a moment, but then he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. He stepped back and motioned for his partner in the guard shack to power open the inner and outer gates.
They rattled slowly open, and Gloria drove into the prison main yard and headed directly over to the expansive cement block prisoner processing facility. “Weiss is going to get all over those guys for letting us in.”
“I don’t think so,” McGarvey said. “He’ll be too busy coming after me, because I’m going to break a couple of laws tonight.”
Gloria gave him a curious look. “You going to kill somebody?”
“If need be,” he said. Amnesty International and a lot of congressmen, and especially a big segment of the media, had come down hard on our military for prisoner abuses here and at Abu Ghraib. Our people were accused of not being sensitive to the ethnic needs of their Muslim prisoners. But the same watchdogs had very little to say about al-Quaida’s beheading of its prisoners. Or of the endless rounds of car bombs. Those acts were America’s fault for trying to fight back after 9/11.
Such attitudes had never made any sense to McGarvey, but he’d been battling them ever since Vietnam had blown up in our faces. We had been the bad guys, and when Jane Fonda had gone to Hanoi she had visited antiaircraft guns that were shooting down our planes, but she never went to the Hanoi Hilton where American crewmen were being starved and beaten.
“Maddox will probably have you shot.”
“That’s a possibility,” McGarvey said as they pulled up. “Look, you can stick it out in the dayroom, it’s only going to take me a couple of minutes.”
Gloria laughed. “What, are you kidding?” she asked. “I wouldn’t miss this for all the world. They were the bastards who killed my partner.”
The OD, a tall, very thin first lieutenant named Albritton, had been alerted by the gate guards that McGarvey and Gloria were incoming from Post One. He got up from behind his desk just inside the front door when they came in.
“I’ve sent a runner to find Commander Weiss,” he said. “But until he gets here, I will not allow any prisoner to be interrogated. That’s SOP.”
“That’s fine with me,” McGarvey said. “We need an interpreter in any event. But in the meantime you can get the man out of bed and over here.”
Gloria handed bin Ramdi’s folder to the OD. “The sooner we can ask our questions, the sooner we’ll be gone,” she said sweetly and she smiled.
The OD was shaking his head.
“Son, I don’t want to pull rank on you, but I will,” McGarvey warned. “These are the same bastards who killed three of your guys last week. We’re just trying to find out what’s going to happen next. No one wants to go through another 9/11.”
“Sir, Commander Weiss will have my ass if I let you talk to one of his prisoners.”
“I hate to break this to you, Lieutenant, but these are not his prisoners,” Gloria said.
McGarvey snatched the phone from the OD’s desk, and held it out to the man. “Call General Maddox. He’ll give you the authorization.”
The lieutenant looked like he’d been hit with a cattle prod. “It’s two in the morning.”
“Yes, it is,” McGarvey said. “Call him.”
“Shit,” the OD said. He took the phone and dialed a number. “This is Albritton.” He opened bin Ramdi’s file. “I want you to bring seven-three-nine over on the double.”
The clock had just started. Whoever got here first, Weiss or bin Ramdi, would determine if their trip had been a waste of time.
“I sent a runner to look for him, he’s not in his quarters,” Albritton said into the phone. “Just bring the prisoner over here, if you please.” He glanced at McGarvey and nodded. “I’ll sign for him.” He hung up. “Your man will be here shortly. We’ll put him in the same interrogation room you used this afternoon.”
“Thank you,” McGarvey said. “We’ll just go back and wait for him there.”
“Be sure to let us know when you’ve found Commander Weiss,” Gloria said.
She and McGarvey went to the end of the corridor, which opened to the common room that was equipped with tables and chairs, some vending machines, and a TV set, DVD player, and a shelf full of movies. This was where MPs sometimes took their breaks. Four interrogation rooms, their doors open, were along the back concrete block wall. The lights were on but no one was there. Each room was equipped with a one-way glass. When prisoners were being interrogated, lights in the common room were kept off.
McGarvey turned his back to the closed-circuit surveillance camera mounted near the ceiling in the corner opposite the interrogation rooms and took out his pistol. He removed the magazine, eased the slide back to eject the round in the chamber, and put the magazine back in place. He holstered the gun and pocketed the 9mm bullet.
Gloria watched, her eyes bright, but she didn’t say a word.
“It might get a little dicey, but I want you to play along with whatever goes down,” McGarvey told her.
She nodded.
“I want you to be absolutely clear on one thing,” he said. “No one gets hurt. No matter what does or does not happen, no one gets hurt. Understood?”
Gloria nodded. “What are you trying to get from him?”
“He knows something about the five prisoners who were sprung.”
“They all do.”
“I think he might know why al-Quaida got them out, and killed them rather than let them be recaptured.” McGarvey had been thinking about little else since he’d gotten back from Panama. He thought he knew the answers, but he had to make sure.
Lieutenant Albritton and an MP came down the corridor with bin Ramdi. The Saudi was fully awake, but he didn’t seem quite as sure of himself as he had earlier.
“No questions until we can get Commander Weiss over here,” Albritton warned.
“Right,” McGarvey said, his eyes locked on bin Ramdi’s.
The MP escorted the prisoner into one of the interrogation rooms, then stepped out. He hadn’t removed the plastic wrist restraint.
The telephone down the corridor rang. “Stay here,” Albritton told the MP, and he hustled back to his post.
The MP, whose name tag read LAGERMANN, glanced at the lieutenant, his attention momentarily away from bin Ramdi.
McGarvey slipped into the interrogation room, pulled out his pistol, and pointed it at bin Ramdi’s head. “Al saheeh,” he said. The truth.
“Holy shit!” the MP shouted.
Bin Ramdi’s eyes flicked back and forth from McGarvey to the marine. “Sir, you will stand down!” the MP shouted.
“I’m going to kill this son of a bitch unless he starts talking,” McGarvey said, his voice low, his tone reasonable.
“No, sir, I can’t let that happen!” the MP shouted.
Gloria was right behind him. “This is the same scum bastard who kills our people, Lagermann. So who are you going to protect? Us or them?”
“Ma’am, I’m just following my orders.”
“Yeah, well so am I,” Gloria said.
“The truth, do you understand me?” McGarvey asked.
Bin Ramdi was still looking for the MP to protect him.
McGarvey cocked the hammer of his pistol. “Do you understand me?”
Bin Ramdi suddenly came unglued. He backed up, and nodded vigorously. “Yes,” he said. “I understand you. But do not shoot me.”
“Lieutenant!” the MP shouted. “We have a situation back here!”
“The five prisoners who escaped. What did they do in the Iranian navy?”
Bin Ramdi threw up his bound hands. “I beseech you. I do not know this answer.”