“Mr. Al-Sheyab, do you recognize me?” Petlow asked. The interpreter translated the questions and answers as the two men spoke.
No-Tooth grinned and nodded. They didn’t call him No-Tooth for nothing.
“I’d like to ask you some questions. Will you talk to me?”
No-Tooth grinned wider and shook his head.
“Why not?”
No-Tooth cursed in a language that Petlow didn’t understand. It wasn’t Arabic. Maybe Farsi? The interpreter left the prisoner’s words to Petlow’s imagination.
“But, Mr. Al-Sheyab, we’ve saved your life. You would have died. You had pneumonia. You’d been shot. Aren’t you comfortable now?”
No-Tooth shrugged.
“I suppose then, if you’re feeling fine, that we can move you back to the prisoners’ holding area,” Petlow said.
No-Tooth’s eyes widened and he shook his head.
“Why not? You seem to be doing better. I think I’ll have the doctor release you so we can interrogate you properly.”
“No,” the prisoner said. “What is it you want? Please, I feel terrible and I am in a lot of pain. Don’t move me.”
Petlow almost smiled. “All right. I want you to look at some photographs. I’m going to ask you if you can pick out a certain person, would you do that?”
The prisoner stared at Petlow and almost snarled. But he didn’t say no.
Petlow plowed ahead. He opened a folder containing several black-and-white photos of various Middle Eastern men. “Does the name Ahmed Mohammed mean anything to you?”
Again, No-Tooth grinned.
“I understand that Ahmed Mohammed is one of the leaders of your organization, is this correct?”
No-Tooth shrugged, but he did it coyly. Petlow took that as a yes.
“How about Nasir Tarighian?” Petlow asked. “Do you know Nasir Tarighian?”
This time No-Tooth’s eyes widened and he stopped smiling. He shook his head.
“Is it true that Nasir Tarighian is the man who provides the money behind the Shadows?”
No-Tooth refused to respond.
“You do know him, don’t you? Nasir Tarighian? Well, we know that Tarighian is the financial leader of your group, which calls itself the Shadows. I understand that you confessed to being a member of the Shadows when you were arrested.”
No-Tooth spoke in a monotone. “I am proud to be a Shadow. We will liberate the Middle East from Western oppression and return it to its Islamic roots.” He said it as if he was repeating a mantra.
“Mr. Al-Sheyab, I don’t believe you are a Shadow,” Petlow said.
No-Tooth’s eyes became fierce. He didn’t like being called a liar. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I’m saying you don’t know if Tarighian is your leader or not. You can’t be a Shadow.”
“I am a Shadow! I am proud to be a Shadow! We will liberate the Middle East from Western oppression and return it to its Islamic roots!”
Petlow showed the prisoner the first photo. “You can’t say that this man is Nasir Tarighian, can you?”
No-Tooth scowled at the photo and said, “That’s not him! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Petlow switched to the next photo. “We think this is Tarighian. Do you?”
“No! You stupid Americans don’t know a great man when you see one. That is Ahmed Mohammed.” Petlow knew that. Mohammed’s face had been well known to the authorities for some time.
Next picture. “Then I guess this can’t be Tarighian, either.”
“That’s not him.”
They went through seven photographs with negative results. On the eighth shot Petlow asked, “Well, we know this isn’t him.”
No-Tooth held up a hand. A visible change came over the prisoner’s facial expression, as if he had just looked upon his Lord and Savior.
“Nasir Tarighian,” he whispered reverently.
Petlow nodded and marked the back of the photo.
“Thank you, Mr. Al-Sheyab. Get some rest now, all right?” Petlow said.
No-Tooth looked at Petlow with confusion. He knew he had somehow been tricked into revealing something and his foggy mind allowed it to happen. He cursed once again at Petlow and the interpreter as the two men got up and left. The prisoner shouted at them, “I am a Shadow! I am proud to be a Shadow! We will liberate the Middle East from Western oppression and return it to its Islamic roots!”
Petlow hurried out of the hospital and ran toward his quarters. He had to get this information to Washington as soon as possible.
Sarah’s stomach growled for the sixth time since she began clocking the noises. She didn’t care, though. She was determined to see her hunger strike through. No matter how starved and weak she became, Sarah resolved not to eat the food they brought her. They had been consistent. One of them had brought her a separate meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but until they let her go, she wasn’t eating. To hell with them. If they considered her a valuable hostage, she wouldn’t be worth much dead.
Most of the time it was one of those creepy Russians who came in. They said their names were Vlad and Yuri, which were probably fake — or else why would they tell her their names? Unless they really planned to kill her all along once they got what they wanted. This was the reasoning that motivated Sarah to go on a hunger strike.
She had been in the little room for two nights and was beginning her third day. Once she asked if she could go outside just to get some fresh air. They wouldn’t let her. Now the room smelled of her sweat. The bathroom stank due to bad plumbing. She showered daily just to feel better, but the last half-day hadn’t been easy. She was beginning to feel the effects of not eating. All she wanted to do was lie on the cot and sleep.
Sarah was dozing, daydreaming about an Asian barbecue restaurant in Evanston that she and Rivka liked to frequent, and her mouth started watering. Her stomach growled again and she willed herself not to think about it. It was hard. She missed her home. She wanted to leave Israel more than anything.
The sound of the key in the door startled her. It always did. The place was usually deathly quiet until that damned key rattled.
The door opened and she saw Vlad’s cold face peek inside.
“Go away,” she said.
“I brought your breakfast,” he said. He came in with a tray. The dish was covered, so she couldn’t see what it was. It smelled cooked, though, and that went a long way toward breaking down her defenses.
Vlad set the tray on the floor by the cot and then sat in the chair. “You’d better eat, Princess. We are becoming very tired of your behavior.”
“Go to hell,” she murmured.
Vlad chuckled. “You still have spirit, eh, Princess? Even after not eating for so many hours? What is it now, two days? That’s nothing. Do you know how you’ll feel in a week? Me and Yuri, we made a bet to see how long you will keep this up. He says you’ll eat tomorrow. Me, I think you have more willpower and will last another two days. What do you think? Is Yuri going to win, or am I going to win?”
“Take the tray and go. I’m not going to eat it,” she said.
“You know, Princess, I think what you need is a little more encouragement,” Vlad said. He scooted the chair closer to the cot. She looked at him with alarm and recoiled.
“Now, now,” he said. “Don’t be afraid of Vlad. I won’t hurt you. I make you feel real good. I have a way with the ladies. They all say so.” He reached out and stroked her hair.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” she spat as she jerked up and away from him.