At the staircase, the guards on each side lifted him up so his toes could catch the next higher step, then repeated the process sixteen times until they reached the landing that led into the main floor of the prison. Kyle opened his eyes during the climb and allowed the dungeon shadows to help adjust his sight for the onslaught of light he knew was coming. His breath was slow and measured, and his pulse was normal.
Through one door, across a room, then another door, and he recognized being back in the warden’s suite of offices. The warden stood beside a window, taking obvious pleasure in observing the filthy condition of his prisoner.
Another man rose from a chair when Swanson was brought in. He was tall and fit, with neat gray hair and a lightweight blue suit with a striped tie. Every inch a diplomat, Kyle thought, realizing his own garments were ragged and his body stank. He had not had a bath since being captured.
When the man spoke, it was with a flat Ohio accent. “Please leave us alone for a while, Warden. And please remove the restraints.”
“You may have all of the time you need, Mr. Riles, but the restraints remain in place. This man is very dangerous.”
“Not to me.”
“To everyone,” the warden insisted, leading his men from the room. “Do not be too long.”
Alone with Kyle in the room, the American spoke. “Let me help you to a chair, Gunny Swanson. Get you a glass of water? My God, man, you look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Kyle said, drinking the clean, clear water in a couple of gulps and holding out the glass for a refill, which he also drained. “Who are you? State?”
“Yes.” He fished out a wallet with his State Department identification. “Dean Riles, deputy chief of mission. We have been battling to get to see you since the capture, but the Pakistani government has been dragging its heels because of the damage in Islamabad.”
“I had nothing to do with those explosions,” Kyle said. “I promise that it came as as much of a surprise to me as anyone.”
Riles sucked in a breath. “Still, it has been awful. The government is still reeling, but somehow it is holding on despite the unrest throughout the country. Now, how have they been treating you? Your shirt is in rags.”
“Three hots and a cot, sir. Not really, but I’ve been through worse. Solitary confinement in a basement cell with no light or heat. There have been no beatings because I apparently have an influential friend.” Swanson let his gaze wander around the room and to the warden’s desk. A digital clock told him it was a little before noon, just about what he had guessed. He could start counting again when he went back downstairs.
“Your friend has worked hard in your behalf. That brings me to the second reason for my visit today.” Riles opened his leather briefcase and took out a file. “Good news and bad news, really bad news, I fear, Gunny, but the only deal that is open to us.”
Swanson liked this quiet and studious man. Obviously Ivy League by education, probably a good lawyer who decided to embark on a course of public service while he was still a young man. Most likely an old-school diplomat who had seen many a tight negotiation in his time. If he said the deal was the best, it probably was.
“There has been a hard bargain made, with the upside being that the Pakistani government doesn’t want you around. Therefore, a team from the Diplomatic Security Service will come over here at noon tomorrow, remove you from this prison, and take you to the embassy. Another twenty-four hours, Gunny. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir. I can do that.”
Riles used his hand to flatten a typed document on the desk. “Now for the bad news. You are being charged with violating Article 118 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, specifically with unpremeditated murder. There are twelve specific charges, but that number probably will grow.” Riles looked at Swanson straight. “The maximum punishment will be directed by a military tribunal, and such punishment may include dishonorable discharge, forfeiture of all pay and allowances, and confinement for life.”
Swanson thought hard. “Not a death penalty?”
“That was part of the bargaining, son. No death penalty. You will be held in Fort Leavenworth, but the court-martial will be held at Camp Pendleton. At least we get you out of here and back in the USA, and you will have a fair trial, with a good lawyer. It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.”
Swanson slumped in the chair, mentally swinging between despair and happiness. He looked at Riles and gave a grim smile. “Okay, sir. Better than a piano wire around the neck some night over here. Thanks.”
Riles was on his feet. “I look forward to seeing you at the embassy tomorrow, Gunny. Get you cleaned up and some decent food and we can talk about this in more detail, with a temporary defense attorney present. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave today?”
Swanson actually let out a little laugh. “Actually, there is. Downstairs I have to pee and crap in a bucket. I sure would like a trip to the warden’s bathroom before you call them back. I can waddle over there and will leave the door open. Won’t take but a minute, and I’d like to wash out my eyes, too.”
Riles started putting away the papers and strapping up his briefcase while Swanson made his slow way to the bathroom, closing the door slightly with his elbow. Moving to the toilet, he quickly scanned the small room, and when he finished urinating, he flushed and moved to the sink and turned on the water. A mirrored medicine cabinet was above it, and Kyle pulled it open and discovered a treasure chest of possibilities. He quickly grabbed a small roll of dental floss that he could keep in the palm of his hand and tucked a blue-handled plastic safety razor into the waistband of his trousers.
31
DUBAI
UNITED ARAB EMIRATES
JIM HALL TOLD THE taxi driver that waited at the front door of the beachfront hotel to drive him to the Burj Dubai mall. He wanted to buy several pairs of comfortable gloves that would serve until he could have some hand-crafted to disguise his missing finger. The sharp pain of having it severed was only a memory, and he was already exercising as if the digit were still there. He settled back into the soft seat and let the strong air conditioner flow while he watched the passing landscape.
So this is what is going to happen to the entire Middle East when the black gold runs out. Dubai was the second largest of the seven sheikdoms in the United Arab Emirates, but most of its oil wealth was controlled in Abu Dhabi, the capital of the federation. That had compromised the funds needed to pay for Dubai’s grandiose desires, so the city-state had concentrated instead on becoming an international trade and financial center, with the underpinning of real estate development, most of it through companies owned by the government. When the global banking and real estate markets utterly collapsed in the first decade of the twenty-first century, little Dubai was left with billions and billions of dollars’ worth of debt. It had taken years just to stabilize the economy, and even today apartment buildings, office complexes, avenues of private homes, and resort hotels stood unfinished in the desert sun.
In addition, sticking up in the middle of the desolation like a toothpick in the dirt stood the world’s tallest tower, the Burj Dubai, 2,717 feet high. Somehow the billionaires and the state would not let the project fail, as if national survival were at stake. Soon enough, the one being built over in Saudi Arabia would make the Burj Dubai look small in comparison, but Hall did not care.