McGarvey didn’t think that Austin could be so stupid as to tell the ISI something like that. “I was not armed when I was arrested.”
“Nor were you armed when you killed two of our officers yesterday, but you took one of their pistols and one of their identification wallets, which apparently you discarded somewhere along the way. We’ll find them.”
“Then let’s get it over with, or do you mean to keep me chained to this desk while you talk me to death?”
The lieutenant got up, his hand on the butt of the pistol holstered at his side, and looked at McGarvey for several long moments. “Interrogating you should be interesting. I sincerely hope you don’t tell me everything for a very long time.”
He went out and told the guards to bring the prisoner to him in five minutes.
The interrogation chamber was at the end of a short corridor. They were in the basement of ISI headquarters, and when McGarvey had been taken into custody they had made the mistake of not blindfolding him. He knew the way out.
One unarmed guard had removed the shackle from his leg, while the other stood aside, a Kalashnikov at the ready. The armed guard was careful not to get too close as they marched down the otherwise-deserted hall.
The lieutenant had taken off his cap and blouse and laid them on a chair in one corner. He was filling a two-quart metal pitcher with water from a tap in the wall.
He looked up and motioned for McGarvey to be strapped to a wooden table in the middle of the small, dungeon-like room. A car battery and a battery charger were on a metal roll-about. A long set of jumper cables fitted with ten-inch wands ending in large sponges was attached to the battery. No other equipment or furnishings besides the metal chair were in the chamber, which was harshly lit by a single electric bulb recessed behind a mesh in the ceiling.
Blood and what looked to McGarvey like feces stained the top of the table and had dribbled down to the concrete floor.
“This room is my favorite,” the lieutenant said. “It reminds me of a coffin.”
McGarvey made a show of reluctantly lying down on the filthy table, forcing the armed guard to muscle him down.
“You’re going to die here this morning,” McGarvey whispered in his ear.
The guard was young, probably in his early twenties, and he was extremely nervous, so that when McGarvey strained at the leather straps around his arms and legs he didn’t bear down. He wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Remember what I told you,” McGarvey whispered.
The guard straightened and backed off.
“Leave us now,” the lieutenant said.
The two guards left the chamber and closed the door.
“What did you say to the boy?”
“That I didn’t blame him,” McGarvey said, feigning fear. “Maybe you and I can come to some kind of a deal that doesn’t involve killing me.”
“Let’s just see how it all begins, shall we?” the lieutenant said. He got the filthy remnants of an old bath towel that had once been white from a shelf at the base of the table. “You know all about waterboarding, I’m sure. Your Congress is certainly aware of the method. They don’t think that it works. But we know better, don’t we, Dr. Parks.”
He draped the towel over McGarvey’s face but then took it off.
“I’ve not strapped your head down. I would like to see your control. Some of my subjects have died by thrashing around so violently they broke their necks. One poor fellow just two months ago damaged himself in such a way that he suffocated. I looked into his eyes as his face turned purple and he realized that nothing on earth or in Paradise was going to save him. He knew that he was dying, and he understood at the end that I knew it too. And that it gave me pleasure. No more talk?”
“I don’t want to die,” McGarvey said, again feigning the first glimmerings of fear.
“Of course not,” the lieutenant said, and he draped the towel over McGarvey’s face again.
A CIA operative working the Calle Ocho Cuban-ex-pat neighborhood in Miami had agreed to waterboard McGarvey, who had insisted that he needed to know what it was like.
“It’s not good, comp, not at all,” Raul Martinez had argued.
“Do it,” Mac had insisted.
Pete had been there as a backup in case something went wrong. And her voice had been in his ear through the entire ordeal, which had lasted less than ninety seconds but had seemed like an eternity.
“Just relax with it, Kirk,” she had whispered as the water soaked the towel, and went into his mouth and throat, gagging him, drowning him, making it nearly impossible to think about anything except for the incredible pain, the instinct for survival kicking him against his will. He had to fight back. He had to live.
“Go with it, Kirk. Let it happen, I’m here, you’ll be okay, I promise you, my darling. Focus on my voice. Nothing else.”
The water flowed in and around him. He could hear his accelerating heartbeat even over the sounds of Pete’s words close in his ears. She was holding his forehead, her touch gentle, comforting, even though he could feel the muscles of his neck and chest convulsing because of his need for oxygen. One clean breath of air.
Her voice began to fade, as did his need to breathe, and for a moment he and Katy were on their sailboat in the Bahamas at night under a billion stars, pinpricks of light that seemed to descend from above and surround him.
FIFTY-THREE
Pete stood at the corner window looking out across the little piece of the Red Zone she could see. The diplomatic enclave was all but deserted at this hour of the morning. Only a lone unmarked van came up Ispana Road and disappeared around the corner toward the German embassy.
Austin had suggested that she get a few hours’ sleep, and he’d assigned her a room in the BOQ section of the building.
“Mentioning McGarvey’s name did absolutely no good with Powers, and I think you probably knew it wouldn’t,” the chief of station had told her earlier. “He’s had history with Mac, and none of it very satisfactory. He doesn’t like mavericks.”
“Not many people do, until they need them,” Pete said bitterly.
“Whatever you must think, Miss Boylan, I was merely trying to protect his life.”
“You’ve already said that.”
“You didn’t believe me.”
“No,” Pete said. “So now what? Are we just writing Mac off? You’re sending me home hoping the situation will all blow over? Well, it won’t, you know. I won’t let it.”
“A military transport will take you to Ramstein, where you’ll be able to hitch a ride stateside.”
They had been in Austin’s office, and she’d taken a step closer. Powers had left and for the moment she and Austin were alone together. “If something happens to him, I swear to God that I’ll move heaven and earth to get to you.”
“I might take a hit, but I made the decision I thought was best for Mac and for the country.”
“I won’t file a formal complaint, if that’s what worries you. I’ll come back here, or wherever you are, and kill you.”
Austin seemed to slump. “Get some sleep, Miss Boylan. I’ll call Rajput first thing in the morning.”
There was nothing left to say.
“It’s all I can promise.”
Pete laid her head against the relatively cool windowpane and closed her eyes. Almost instantly her throat constricted and she felt as if she were drowning. She straightened up and reared back, her eyes wide.
It was Kirk, she could feel his breath against her cheek. She raised her right hand. She was touching his head. She felt his pain, but she also felt his strength. She knew that he wanted her.