“Tell him who you work for. I no want to see you hurt.” Her eyes were begging and she rewarded him with a tender smile. “I know I can help you if you tell truth. Kareem listen to me. He know I like you. He would not hurt my friend but you must tell truth.”
“Help me get these off,” said Gabe, continuing to fight at the restraints.
“I cannot. He hurt me if he catch me helping you. You must tell him who you work for, then he let us both go.”
“I work for Yeong. You know that,” said Gabe, confused by the inquiry.
“He think you work for Cho and he know Cho work for police,” whispered Candy, looking over Gabe’s shoulder trying to determine if her presence at the auto repair facility in the aging industrial complex had been detected.
“What?”
“Cho tell me one night he work for police.”
“He did what? Why would he tell you that?”
“He think it make him important in my eyes. He always trying to impress me by who he know. He say he can help my brother in prison because he work for police.”
Gabe fought against the duct tape wrapped around his arms and legs but was unable to free himself. “Get a knife and cut me loose.”
“I afraid Kareem catch me. Only way for you to go free is to tell Kareem who you work for. He only want truth. Once you tell him he let you go.”
“I work for Yeong. Tell Kareem that’s the truth.”
“Cho tell me you work with him and you both could help me if I told about Supernotes.”
Gabe hesitated with a response. He’d been betrayed by the Secret Service informant and his fate seemed settled unless he could escape.
“I see you talk much in corner. If you tell Kareem truth he forgive you. He very forgiving man. His religion require he forgive if you tell truth. Please tell him, then Kareem let you go and we could be friends. I always like you. You good person, not like Cho.”
“Help me get out of here and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Please tell truth. I want us to be happy. I want us to be together but it not happen if Kareem mad. He would chase us down until you tell truth. Tell him and we can go away unhurt,” begged the young female with a beautiful smile.
“Get me a knife and we can both get out of here. I’ll protect you. I promise.”
The silence hung between them. Then the long moment was broken by Mohammed’s shout. “Enough! It’s not working.”
Mohammed and Kareem entered from the shadows as Candy stepped back, failing in her attempt to deceive the undercover operative.
From his back pocket, Mohammed grabbed a thick black glove, the fingers lined with lead. He slipped it on to his right hand and backhanded Gabe, the loud crack of lead on bone being drowned out by Gabe’s wail.
Kareem, no stranger to blood and pain, looked around the garage as if questioning whether others heard the cry, but calmed remembering the industrial complex was empty at this hour.
“Who do you work for?” asked Mohammed.
Gabe looked at him with pained incredulity, then toward Kareem. “You know who I work for.”
This time a backhand from the left side. “Who do you work for?”
“I work for Mr. Yeong.”
“Liar,” said Mohammed, repeating the backhand.
“I work for Mr. Yeong.”
“Who did Cho work for?” bellowed Mohammed.
Gabe was now struggling to simply survive the attack. “He worked with Mr. Yeong,” he mumbled through the blood gushing from a broken nose and smashed lips.
Mohammed threw a powerful right hand to the base of the rib cage. “Who else?”
It took Gabe a few moments to catch his breath. “I didn’t know he worked for anybody else until she just told me. I sure as hell didn’t know he worked for the cops. I would have killed him if I knew he was ratting us out,” said Gabe.
“Why is your English so good?” said Mohammed.
Through the bruising, the blood, and the pain, Gabe offered a limp smile. “Good teachers.”
Mohammed slapped him hard and repeated the question.
“I grew up here. I went to school in Northern California,” said Gabe, spitting blood as he turned his head from left to right.
“But you came here with Yeong when he returned from a trip to Hong Kong and North Korea,” said Kareem.
“Yeah, so what? My father was from North Korea. He came here just before I was born, working for a unified Korean trade delegation. I still have family in North Korea. Even though I’m a U.S. citizen I got a Korean visa through them.” Gabe wasn’t sure they would buy the legend the CIA created, but if they stopped beating him long enough to do an Internet search of immigration regulations and a government records check, it would back up his story.
Kareem, Candy, and Mohammed looked at each other, not sure whether to accept the explanation of the tortured man.
“Why did you return to North Korea?” asked Mohammed.
“After my father died I was allowed to return. I visited our family and found work there.”
“What kind of work?” asked Kareem.
“I worked for the government.”
“The North Korean government?” asked Mohammed.
“Yeah, what other government operates in North Korea?” said Gabe with an attitude that cost him another sharp backhand across the face.
“How do you know Cho?” barked Mohammed.
Gabe returned to his cover story. “I know Cho’s brother. He lives outside of Pyongyang but he does a lot of business in Hong Kong. He was in Hong Kong when some of Mr. Yeong’s security men were arrested by the Hong Kong police. He called me up in Pyongyang and asked if I wanted the job. I flew to Hong Kong and joined Mr. Yeong’s security team.”
“I didn’t think anyone could leave North Korea?” asked Kareem in an almost civil tone.
“Sure you can, as long as the right people in the government approve.”
“Why would the North Korean government allow you to leave?” asked Mohammed with genuine curiosity, standing in front of Gabe, poised to strike again.
“Why do you think?”
Mohammed backhanded Gabe. An evil smile crossed Candy’s face.
“Okay, okay. The North Korean government wanted me here. They wanted me to watch Yeong, to protect him. They sent me.”
Kareem looked at Mohammed. “What do you think?”
“I’m not buying it,” said the cell leader.
Gabe protested. “It’s the truth. You didn’t have to beat me to learn this. You only had to ask. Check it out.”
Candy cocked her head. “He’s lying.”
Mohammed threw a backhanded slap, snapping Gabe’s head to the left, then grabbed him by the hair and whipped Gabe’s head back. “Cho never told you he was working for the police?”
Blood from his battered nose and mouth was filling his throat faster than he could swallow it, but Gabe managed to gurgle, “Never. I would have killed him. I was sent here by the North Korean government.”
“Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe Cho made up the story,” said Kareem.
“He know. He working with Cho,” said Candy.
“You’re crazy,” said Gabe defiantly, earning him another backhanded strike to his face, which was now swelling and bleeding profusely.
“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” said Kareem, questioning whether they might have misread Gabe’s role.
“He’s lying,” said Mohammed.
“How can you be sure?” asked Kareem.
“It no matter. We can’t take chances,” said Candy, excited by the blood.
“Doesn’t matter?” said Gabe, spitting blood. “You are beating me for no reason.”
Mohammed had psychopathic skills and prepared to exercise them again. He grabbed the little finger on Gabe’s right hand and twisted it back, wrenching it out of the socket, ripping muscle and tendons.
Gabe screamed, gasping for relief before shouting, “I’m telling the truth.”