“I want to know who’s running this circus. Is it you, or are you working for Swift too? There has been a lot of Agency bullshit going on and I’m getting sick of it,” Mason said, grabbing the man’s arm as they walked toward the hangar.
Mr. David stopped walking as Major Anderson took a step toward Mason.
Mason didn’t back down from a challenge. He stepped up to the major, his hand easing down to his pistol. “I’ve had just about enough of your shit. I know who you are, and I know what you’re about, so why don’t you cut the crap and make your play?”
“Fuck you,” the major replied, stepping up to Mason’s face.
“Stand down, Major,” Mr. David commanded.
Mason felt the anger rising up in him and didn’t care about the consequences. He was tired of this paper tiger’s bullshit, and he was ready to put an end to it.
“Major Anderson, I gave you an order,” Mr. David commanded again.
Mason could see him trembling, like a dog on a tight leash. Then the spell was broken and he took a step back.
“This isn’t over,” he said before turning on his heel and heading toward the hangar.
“You have an innate ability to alienate anyone wanting to help you, do you know that?” Mr. David asked.
“I don’t need your kind of help.”
“Come with me,” he said.
Mason took his hand off his pistol and followed the man into the hangar. Instead of going into the conference room, he continued down the hall to a door guarded by two contractors. The men were dressed in plate carriers and sterile MultiCam uniforms, and both of them had rifles slung around their necks.
Mr. David showed them his ID card and then punched his code into the keypad. Mason heard the lock click open and they stepped through the door. Two more contractors were posted on the inside, their hands resting on the rifles slung around their necks.
The two men were obviously ex military and appeared to be in their late thirties. Both of their faces were deeply tanned and lined by the desert sun, and there was an aura about them that Mason immediately recognized. The silent sentinels held his gaze for a moment, and he knew they were sizing him up. The first man gave him a barely perceptible nod before turning his attention to the room.
The place was dimly lit, with gray carpet matching gray walls. Vents in the ceiling pumped cool air into the room as a pale analyst studied the monitors and televisions that kept them in contact with the region.
The CIA man punched his code into another keypad and they walked into yet another hallway. Mason was losing his patience when the agent stopped at a small window cut into the wall.
“Take a look,” he said.
Mason shot the man a look that conveyed his annoyance and peered through the glass. He was not prepared to see General Swift handcuffed to a table, very much the worse for wear.
“Well, look who it is. It’s about time someone started listening to me.”
The general sat rigidly at the table, an arrogant look on his face. Mason wanted to put his fist through it, and he could feel his heart beating faster as the rage built up in his stomach and spread through his veins like lava.
“Look, you don’t have to believe everything I say, but obviously I’m not far off if you have him in custody. Give me five minutes with him and I’ll find out what’s going on for you.”
Mr. David stood staring into the room. Mason could tell he was wrestling with his next course of action, and all he had to do was close the deal.
“I can promise you that whatever you think you know about this man doesn’t come close to the facts. He’s a murderer and he’s the only one who knows who’s pulling all the strings.”
The spy took a deep breath and held it for a second as he weighed his options. “Do it, but do not do any permanent damage.”
Mason nodded and stepped into the room with a smile.
The shock that replaced the stoic exterior of the general disappeared as soon as Mason closed the door behind him.
“Bet you weren’t expecting me to come through that door.”
“How…?”
“Doesn’t matter. What does matter is how much pain you’re willing to go through before you tell me what I want to know. You see these walls?” Mason asked, bumping his fist against the thick gray foam that lined the cell. “How many of these have we built around the world?”
The general lifted his chin with a smirk. “I built one just for you back in Jbad. It’s brand-new,” he said.
“Well, that’s a shame, because neither one of us is ever going to see it.”
Mason approached the general ominously and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder as he moved around behind him.
“It’s been a rough week, for both of us. Did you know that your friend Decklin tried to kill me again?”
“Too bad he didn’t finish the job.”
“Yeah, he was thinking the same thing when I poured gas on him and lit him up like a roman candle. I still have the tape, if you want to see it.”
“Fuck you.”
“He said that too before I cut off his head and put it in a box.”
“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” Swift replied.
“Maybe, maybe not, but one thing I don’t do is kill fucking innocent women and children.” Mason leaned in close and grabbed him around the neck with his left arm. He sank the rear naked choke in deep and used his right arm to tighten the pressure as he lifted the general out of his chair.
“You didn’t see the pictures, see what your gas did to the children. I want to know how you sleep at night,” he yelled into the general’s ear.
He could feel the general’s feet kicking against the table as he cut the blood flow off to his brain. He counted slowly in his head and then released the pressure before the prisoner passed out.
As Swift sputtered and gulped for air, Mason grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the table. He fought to control his rage as the general’s nose exploded in a pool of red.
“Tell me!” he yelled as he slammed his head down again, before reapplying the chokehold. “I know about Libya and Operation Lion. All I need is a name, and we can stop this shit.”
He let the general go and moved back around the table. The general’s nose was bent to the side and obviously broken. Blood covered his chin and the front of his tan shirt, and there was already a dark bruise around his neck, but what surprised Mason were the tears coursing down his cheeks.
“You find a conscience all of a sudden?”
“I never knew about the gas. I would never have gone along with it if I had known.”
The proud warrior sagged in his chair. He was right on the edge, and Mason knew it wouldn’t take much more to break him. He’d never liked the general and knew that despite the façade that had gotten him promoted, the man was a coward.
“I don’t care if you knew or not, you’re still a murderer.”
“Fuck you, Mason.”
“What is Operation Lion?” Mason asked, balling up his fist.
“It’s the plan for Syria,” the general spat. “We found files linking Iran, Syria, and Saudi Arabia to the jihadists in Iraq. After the surge, we knew the war was going to be wider than we originally thought—”
“Who is ‘we’?”
Swift raised his chin and spat blood on the table before telling Mason, “I want a deal.”
Mason instantly grabbed him by the front of his shirt and flipped the chair down to the floor. He placed his boot on the man’s throat and pressed down. The general tried to grab his foot, but his hands were still chained to the chair, and he lay there choking as the blood from his broken nose poured down his throat.
“You want a deal? Is that what you want? Who is running the show? Tell me and I won’t let you drown in your own blood.”
“Gen— General Nantz… He’s working with the CIA,” he stuttered as Mason lifted his boot off the man’s windpipe. “He planned it all.”