"Your people will rape their corpses and defile them. This is what my brothers can expect in America."
Klinkman stepped forward within a few feet of the seated men and brought himself to one knee. He stared at el-Masri and spoke in the same soft tone. "Last chance, gentlemen. If you don't cooperate, you will be tortured, killed and desecrated in a manner that will prevent you from entering paradise. You will be cremated and your ashes will be mixed with hot pig lard to coagulate and sit in a jar until reheated and served to the next group of Jihadis that we catch. I have a funeral home waiting for your bodies as we speak."
"Nothing can prevent us from entering paradise. We are pure," el-Masri said.
"You don't sound convinced," Hubner hissed.
"Do it," Farrington said.
Everyone moved at once. Petrovich raised his silenced pistol and shot Akhnaten once in each shoulder. The man screamed, but the duct tape turned the sound into a muffled, high-pitched moan. Hubner flicked open a four-inch serrated blade, which had been concealed in his right hand. He pounced on el-Masri as Klinkman yanked the man's hair down from behind, causing him to scream in agony and buck in his chair. Hubner braced el-Masri's head and started to cut off his left ear.
Hassan growled and tried to stand with the chair, but Farrington pistol-whipped him across the temple, collapsing him back into the chair. Hassan turned to look at Akhnaten, who was struggling wildly. He watched Petrovich fire a third bullet between Akhnaten's eyes, spraying the gray wall and flimsy window curtain with a mosaic of bright red clumps.
Luke couldn't believe his eyes. Everyone in the van turned away from the screen, but the screams echoed through the van, providing a grim reminder of the work they ultimately supported on behalf of General Sanderson. When he finally decided to look back, the view provided by the hijacked computer webcam had been partially obscured by what he could only assume was splatter from Akhnaten's head.
"Turn the volume down at least," Luke said. "Focus on your jobs."
He turned around to keep a close eye on his own laptop screen, which monitored every local law enforcement radio signal they could find scanning UHF and VHF frequencies. The software he used would monitor and detect keywords inputted by Luke. He could also listen to the primary channels himself through his headset, which provided a split feed that he could control from the computer. One feed connected him to the team in the apartment and the other filled his right ear with police chatter. He turned up the volume for the primary police dispatch channel. Hubner's channel was silent, but that didn't surprise Luke at the moment. The crazy German was busy slicing off el-Masri's ear. He'd be shocked if someone didn't report this to the police.
"Shit. He just tore off the rest of the ear and tried to jam it down Hassan's throat," Batista said.
"Can I cut the feed to the webcam? We can do our jobs without it," Banergee said in a disgusted tone.
"Cut it. Keep the cell phone live."
Luke wondered what they had gotten themselves into with Sanderson. He had been approached thirteen months earlier by Klinkman, with an interesting proposal. Klinkman would facilitate the immediate funding of their startup computer security business, in return for discreet cyber services. They were told that the team would be used for "off the books" clandestine work related to EU security. Klinkman had been upfront about the legal issues raised by the kind of service required of the team, but this didn't bother Luke's crew. Even Banergee, who had started out working as a "white hat" hacker for computer technology powerhouse SCC Global, had no issue with the work. He had traded his "white hat" status for the less defined "gray hat" to join Luke and Batista in their startup venture.
The entire team had been flown out to the training compound in Argentina, to meet Sanderson and receive two weeks of intensive personal defense and firearms training. Luke had been extremely impressed by Sanderson's operation and the operatives chosen to fill the ranks. Research into Sanderson's past gave them no pause. As computer security specialists, a polite term for hacker, they were considered rogues by outsiders. Aligning with Sanderson further reinforced this notion. If Sanderson were a hacker, he would be the king of all "gray hats."
For the first time since initially meeting with Klinkman, Luke could tell they were all having serious doubts about their involvement. They had expected to violate multiple cyber laws in support of Sanderson's team, along with some basic privacy violations, but nothing could have prepared them for what they had all just witnessed. They could only hope that Sanderson's crew would get everything they needed out of Hassan, and that this would be their last stop in Frankfurt.
Hubner backed away from Hassan after delivering a stiff punch to the terrorist's solar plexus. The man moaned in an attempt to regain his breath. Petrovich aimed his pistol at Hassan's right shoulder and fired, grazing the top and splattering el-Masri's face with blood. Klinkman brought a closed fist down on Hassan's wounded shoulder, causing the terrorist to scream and buck in his chair. Everyone backed away and let the situation settle for several seconds. Hassan raised his head with defiant eyes, and Petrovich could tell that they wouldn't get any information out of him in this apartment. Hassan was a long-term project. El-Masri was their only hope of an immediate payoff.
El-Masri whimpered and rocked in his chair. The entire left side of his head was a gory mess from Hubner's crude ear amputation. Blood covered the side of his neck and saturated the shoulder of his white collared shirt. He wouldn't raise his head to look at them, which told Petrovich that they were close to breaking him. They needed to do it fast, before he became emboldened by Hassan's stoicism.
"Cut off his other ear," Petrovich said.
Hubner repeated the order in German and raised the knife. El-Masri protested in Arabic and German, begging them not to cut him again. Hassan stared lifelessly at Petrovich, while Hubner explained their situation.
"This keeps going until one of you gives us the addresses."
Hassan spit at Petrovich, hitting him in the leg.
"I guess your friend loses the other ear," Hubner said.
While Hubner removed el-Masri's remaining ear, Farrington slid the chair with Akhnaten's lifeless body in front of the two terrorists. He stepped behind the chair and reached into Petrovich's black nylon bag, removing a hacksaw. He nodded at Hubner, who explained what they planned to do next.
"Before we cremate your bodies, we're going to saw them into pieces to ensure there is no way for you to reach paradise and your seventy-two virgins."
This comment caused Hassan's eyes to narrow, which Petrovich noted with some satisfaction. This could be useful if they needed to continue the interrogation later.
"Mr. Hassan, you can stop his pain by giving us the address. I don't see why you're doing this to him on behalf of the people who betrayed you. Give us the information, and I'll carry through on my promise to let you avenge your brothers."
"I will never betray my brothers. Allahu Akbar! You will all die!"
"Wrong answer. Hit his ears," Hubner said.
Klinkman simultaneously slapped both hands against the sides of el-Masri's head. The man writhed in pain, and Klinkman repeated the process. After the first few hits, El-Masri started to growl more like Hassan. He screamed angry Arabic phrases, which Hubner ignored.
"You're not going to have much of a face left in a few minutes. I want the addresses!" Hubner bellowed.
El-Masri growled words back at him. Whatever he said caused Hassan to break eye contact with Petrovich and turn his head.