“Tell me!” Uzi said as his phone buzzed. He straightened up, glanced at the display, and gestured to Claude to get the door. Vail and DeSantos had arrived. While Claude’s shoes slapped against the dirt-strewn cement floor, Uzi faced Aziz. “Where are they? And don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“The codex is on its way to the West Bank, Sahmoud’s office. Or it will be.” He turned away. “Doka Michel’s the only one who knows the address.”
“And the scroll?”
“I don’t know.”
“Best guess.”
Aziz’s eyes moved up, left, and right as he pondered the question. “Knowing Sahmoud, he’d keep it somewhere close.”
Uzi nodded at Fahad, who extracted the Glock from Yaseen’s mouth.
“You idiot,” Yaseen shouted. He spit out broken pieces of tooth material. “You’ve betrayed all you are.”
“Who cares about some old book and parchment?” Aziz asked. “It has no meaning to us. It’s just a tool, a leverage point.”
The door opened and closed and Uzi’s head snapped up. Vail and DeSantos were headed toward him.
The mildew irritated Vail’s nose. The building’s interior was dark except for a high-lumen lantern resting on the ground, pointed toward the ceiling. Uzi, Fahad, and Claude stood in front of two chairs. And in those chairs—
“Give me a few minutes,” Claude said. “I’ll get the information.”
Vail sensed that something was not right with Claude the night they met him. She hadn’t expended much energy thinking about it, but now she knew. He was a psychopath, possibly an assassin who used his need-driven behavior to “legally” kill — and get paid doing it.
Uzi hesitated.
“Trust me,” Claude said. “I’ll get the info we need.”
“No.” Fahad walked over to the nearby wall and picked up what looked like two tactical vests. “We’ll do it my way.” He handed one to Claude and carried the other to Yaseen.
“What are you doing?” Yaseen asked.
Fahad made a show of admiring the workmanship. “Nicely made. I see the pride you put into each one.” He held it up. “This is what you strapped to my nephew’s body? His fifteen-year-old body?”
Uh, not tactical vests. Suicide vests.
Yaseen did not respond.
Fahad unfurled the garment, slipped it behind Yaseen, and turned to DeSantos. “Cut his hands loose.”
DeSantos looked at Uzi — and Uzi nodded agreement. DeSantos sliced the flexcuffs, moved Yaseen’s hands through the vest’s cutaway shoulders, and re-secured his wrists. Yaseen winced away the pain of having his arm twisted.
They followed the same procedure for Aziz, but Fahad and DeSantos moved him to the opposite end of the cavernous room and set him down.
Vail hurried to Uzi’s side and whispered in his ear. “What the hell are they doing?”
“Fahad’s nephew, the suicide bomber? Qadir Yaseen recruited him, turned him into a jihadi. Yaseen’s the kind of guy you chase, Karen. A psychopath, a serial offender who uses religious extremism to get his kills.”
Vail considered this a moment. “Psychopaths need the connection to the kill. Giving someone a bomb to wear is too removed for their needs. It doesn’t fulfill the hunger. It’s like eating a chocolate bar that has no taste. It’s just not enjoyable.”
“I get that. But here’s the thing. He detonates the bombs remotely. His finger is literally on the trigger. And he watches.”
“Okay,” Vail said. “But what makes you think he’s a psychopath?”
“He’s got a vacant look in his eyes, the pupils are — I don’t know, strange. Cold, empty, pinpoints of darkness. He killed Mo’s nephew and has no remorse, no guilt. He’s dispassionate, coldhearted, has no empathy for the pain Mo feels.” He recounted the key points of their interrogation thus far.
Vail nodded. “You may be right. But there’s more to it than—”
“Does it really matter?” Claude asked.
Vail turned; she was not aware he had been listening in. In fact, we might have more than one psychopath in the room. “It could. In terms of determining the right way to question him.”
Claude looked past her shoulder at Yaseen. “He’s done talking. And so are we.”
“No we’re not.” She walked over to Yaseen and stopped a foot from his chair. “Give me some space.”
“No.” Fahad broadened his stance. “We gave him every chance to cooperate. Whatever happens now is his fault.”
Vail clenched her jaw. “Move. Aside.”
A moment passed. He finally yielded and backed away.
Vail tilted her head and observed their prisoner. He defiantly spit tooth fragments at her. She did not move. “When that bomb explodes, the ground shakes, smoke rises, body parts go flying. It’s quite an extraordinary moment for you, isn’t it?”
His right eye twitched.
“The fear, the pain on the faces of your victims. Their screams, their moans. Their shrieking when a limb is blown off. You’re aroused by it. Seeing your victims’ response to the pain you inflict … it’s exhilarating. Deeply exciting.”
Yaseen’s lips parted. She had his attention.
“When you press that button and watch your bomb explode …” She waited for that image to fill his thoughts. “When you hear the women and children wail and cry …” She leaned in close and whispered. “You’re sexually aroused. Aren’t you?”
His eyes, riveted to Vail’s, narrowed. His head tilted. “Yes.” Barely audible.
“You’re a sexual sadist, Yaseen. People are just objects to you. Things to be used, manipulated. You’ve got no emotional connection to them. Their agony, their suffering are inconsequential.”
He drew back and licked his lips.
She stood up straight. “You get off on risk taking and thrill seeking. And let’s face it. There’s no job on the planet that’s more dangerous than a bomb maker. You’ve obviously lost fingers from an explosion or two, and yet you keep on doing it. Because taking greater and greater risks excites you.”
Yaseen laughed, exposing a row of jagged front teeth. “You know me better than I know myself.”
“Karen,” Uzi said. She turned and headed back toward him, where Fahad and DeSantos were now standing with Claude.
“How does that help us?” Fahad asked.
“To determine the most effective way to question him, I had to find out if you were right. You are. And I can tell you that his psychopathy governs who he is. He’s not going to talk here, no matter what you guys do to him.”
“We’ll see about that.” Fahad stepped to his right and held up two remotes. “Do you know what these are?” He looked at Yaseen, then turned ninety degrees and showed them to Aziz. “I know you recognize them,” Fahad said to Yaseen, “since you built them.”
“So here’s how it’s going to work,” DeSantos said. “We’re gonna ask you again what we want to know. Whichever one of you gives us the answers gets to live. The other one will not.”
Vail nudged Uzi.
“Just a scare tactic,” Uzi said under his breath.
“It’s not gonna work.”
“Mo insisted on trying.”
“What targets have you selected for the US?” Fahad asked.
“Chicago,” Aziz said. “O’Hare.”
Yaseen jostled his chair, scraping it an inch along the cement. “Shut up, you idiot! They’re not going to kill us. Their Constitution prevents it. They have no proof of anything our lawyer can’t twist into a pretzel. We are in control, Tahir. Don’t let them fool you.”
“I’m going to give you one last chance, Yaseen,” Fahad said. “Tahir gave us some answers. Now it’s your turn.”