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 blocked 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.