Boris continued. “From what I have heard thru my sources, he went to Syria to train for a mission to be executed in the United States. He is now operating under the alias of a Peter Zar….. something or another. I can’t remember the rest of his name.”
Forsythe had a gut feeling that Boris was ready to spill everything. His back was to the wall, and he knew it.
Boris struggled to look at his watch, blood still trickling down, obscuring his vision; he brought his Platinum Rolex up to several inches from his right eye. “I can feed you one juicy tidbit of information,” he said, looking around at his captor’s as they awaited his next disclosure. Boris loved to play the game of chess since mastering the game at a young age and this would be a masterful move, enabling him to extract a “Draw” from a situation only minutes before was a “Checkmate.”
“You will have to pardon me Michael, my eyes are not what they used to be,” he said, allowing the agents in the room to emit a brief chuckle considering the situation. “For this bit of information you will allow me to continue to New York to catch a Swiss Air flight to Geneva. I promise you that after you hear my information, I will be the least bit of your problems.”
Forsythe took a deep breath, smiling at Alice, shaking his head at what hours of interrogation had yielded. “I will promise you this much, Boris. If the information you provide is substantial and I mean substantial, I will take your terms under advisement. I might even consider flying you to New York myself if it’s juicy enough!”
It was Boris’ turn to smile about the room for he was about to take his opponent’s queen and end the game. “Michael, may I bother you for a glass of water,” pointing to the pitcher on the table in the center of the room. “I’m a bit parched from all of this heat.”
He watched as Alice obliged and filled the glass, handing it to him.
He downed the content in one swift tilt of the glass, his first drink since they had started the beatings.
“Michael, I would suggest you warm up your jet for me,” looking from agent to agent in order to build up the suspense, convinced he held their rapt attention before continuing.
“In approximately 10 hours, one of your American cities will lose its entire downtown area in a small nuclear explosion.”
Checkmate.
Chapter Sixteen
General Poszk relaxed in the plush surroundings of his Ministry office. He sat re-reading the interrogation proceedings for Sirna. If the rest of the Chechnya rebel leadership is made of the same material as this man, God help us.
A soft knock at his office door caused him to close the file, placing it in his desk drawer.
Looking up, he saw his secretary, a matronly woman of 70. “General, you have a Captain Igor Isinov to see you,” she said.
“Show him in please,” he responded. The general stood up from behind his desk and walked over to a table filled with various liquors from his worldly travels. Standing before his table, he focused in on a bottle of Jim Beam, an American Bourbon he had picked up a taste for while working as a Military Attaché at the Russian Embassy in Washington DC. General Poszk contemplated ordering something to eat from his secretary, but thought better of it. The torture session he had witnessed earlier upset his stomach. He needed a good stiff drink. The drink would also settle his nerves since reading the red presidential folder on his desk, a gift from one of his intelligence friends in the FSB.
Captain Isinov stepped into the general’s office in his dress uniform, proudly displaying his ribbons or “fruit salad” on his chest. The rows of ribbons attested to his many combat actions in Afghanistan, Angola, Chechnya and advisor ships in Syria, Libya, and Vietnam.
“Captain Isinov reporting as ordered sir,” he said, executing a crisp salute.
The general held up a bottle of Jim Beam in return salute. “Relax captain, we can be informal here. What can I get for you? Swedish vodka? Canadian whiskey? You pick your poison as the Americans say and I will find it for you.” He extended his open hand over the motley collection of bottles he had amassed as gifts in his travels.
“Nothing for me sir, I still on duty,” Captain Isinov replied, still standing at attention with his body ramrod straight.
General Poszk shook his head in response. “Captain, at ease! That is an order! If you keep up these military shenanigans, I will court martial you right here. Now relax, you have a long journey in front of you. Under the current situation, I think a stiff belt would ease your burdens.” He picked up a Czechoslovakian crystal tumbler and filled it halfway with his own personal choice of Jim Beam, dropping in two ice cubes. “I have made the selection for you captain. I know how you prefer a good French wine when you can get a hold of it, but this will have to do for now. For the moment, please sit down and try some of this outstanding American bourbon while we discuss your mission.”
Captain Isinov relaxed, thanking the general for his generosity. Such a drink would cost him a day’s wages if he ordered it in a bar.
The general picked up the folder with a red presidential seal across its front, the word “Secret” stamped at its top. “It will only take you a few minutes, read this document and tell me what you think.”
“But general, I am not cleared to this level.”
General Poszk leaned over his desk in encouragement and slid the now open folder in front of the captain. “There, it is open captain. You have my permission to read the document. Jesus Christ, Igor, we have been friends for a long time now. I would not allow harm to come to you. You have my word on it.”
Not wanting to offend the general any further, he started to read the single-spaced, two page document.
To the general’s amusement, he reread the document as if not believing or wanting to believe what he had said. After the second reading, the captain picked up his glass of bourbon and finished its contents in one gulp.
“That’s a precious commodity captain savor it!” the general said, knowing full well that he had the same reaction when he first read the document.
“General, this is no joke? I mean the words in this folder are all true?”
The general nodded. “When our prisoner Sirna Miliruid alluded to weapons of mass destruction, it was to be no joke. You were in the room, you heard him say those words. After Sirna’s disclosure, I inquired at the very top about the possibilities of such weapons being compromised, or hell, even existing. When I informed our President of the prisoner’s recent boasting, his eyes went wide. Igor, when I say wide, I mean he was scared. Really scared. After our meeting, he handed me the folder you have just read.” The general paused, looking him straight in the eye to communicate the seriousness of the situation before continuing. “So you can see Igor, Sirna told us the truth.”
The captain sat back in his chair, wondering who had ever envisioned such a nightmare scenario in the first place. “You mean we actually placed nuclear weapons in the United States? This is no joke?”
The general nodded once more.
“General, if the Americans know about this, they most likely have implemented the same strategy to use against us. They would be fools not too. And we both know they are not fools.”
The bourbon in his glass finished, the general reached for a pack of cigarettes. He extracted one before offering the same to the captain.
The captain stopped smoking weeks before but now he needed one more than ever.