Meaning that Duberman or Salome could tell them where they’d bought the HEU.
“I won’t hurt them, Vinny.”
“Not saying that. Nothing permanent.”
“What, then?”
Duto explained. A cruel play, revolting and brilliant. Wells shook his head.
“I’ll do it,” Duto said. “If you can’t.”
As an answer, Wells reached for Gideon’s stainless-steel pistol, a little Sig Sauer that felt oddly small in his palm.
“Cute, isn’t it?” Duto said.
“As long as it shoots.”
“By the way. Would you really have let him shoot me?”
“In a heartbeat.” Wells covered Salome and Duberman with the pistol. “Salome. Go in the corner. Stand facing out, hands flat against the walls. Aaron. Lie facedown on the floor next to your desk.”
“No.”
“If you don’t I’ll shoot you.”
“How do I know you won’t do that anyway?”
Wells shook his head: You don’t. Duberman took two steps. Went to his knees. Lay down. The rustling of his linen pants was the room’s only sound. Wells came over, racked the slide to be sure he had a round chambered. Duberman flinched at the metal-on-metal click.
“Put your hands behind your head.” Wells put a knee into Duberman’s back.
“I can pay. Whatever you like.”
“Shh.” Wells shoved the pistol into Duberman’s neck — and flashed back to the hotel in Volgograd where Boris Nemkov had done the same to him. An ouroboros came to him, the mythical snake that ate its own tail. He should have let Duto handle this. It was Duto’s idea—
No. He would own what happened next. No one else. Most of all, not Duto.
“It’s time for you to tell us where you got the uranium.”
Duberman shook his head. Wells pressed the pistol down harder, wrinkled the tanned skin of Duberman’s neck. “Tell me. You have my word, we’ll keep your name out of it. Your life goes on. Your wife, your kids—”
No.
This wasn’t who he was. He didn’t threaten to execute defenseless prisoners. Then he made himself think of the Americans and Iranians who would die by the thousands for Duberman’s lies if the United States invaded. He tightened his grip, shoved the pistol harder into Duberman’s neck, where the spine bent into the skull.
“I count to three. Then I blow your brains out.”
“No.”
“One.”
“I don’t know.”
“Two.”
“I swear, I don’t, I don’t—”
“Lie.” Wells shifted the pistol, pressed it against the thin bone of Duberman’s temple. Duberman tried to raise his head, but with his left hand Wells forced him down, forced him to see the pistol. “I want you to live, but you have to tell me.”
“Tell him,” Salome said. “Please. Aaron. Please.”
“She loves you.” As Wells spoke, he knew the words were true. “Listen to her.”
Duberman tried to shake his head under Wells’s hand. Blood from the cut on his neck dribbled to the floor. Wells looked at Salome. He’d threatened Duberman instead of her because he’d expected she’d be the stronger of the two, more willing to die. Maybe he’d guessed wrong. “You tell me, then. Tell me and he lives.”
“Aaron,” she said.
Duberman answered in Hebrew.
“He says he’d rather die.”
“Yes,” Duberman said.
“Then you will,” Wells said.
“Do it, then.”
“Three. Last chance. Now.”
But of course Wells didn’t pull the trigger.
Duberman’s body shook under Wells’s knee, ripples that ran the length of his back. Wells wondered if Duberman was crying. No. Laughing. Maybe he had never believed Wells would shoot him. Maybe he truly was willing to sacrifice himself for this war. Either way, he had called Wells’s bluff.
During all his years in the field, Wells had sworn he would never torture. Mock executions might not leave bruises or broken bones, but they were psychic torture nonetheless. He had tossed aside one of his most important principles. Humiliated himself.
For nothing.
What would Anne say? Or Exley?
“John.” Duto’s voice brought Wells back to the room. They still had to escape.
Wells stood, nudged Duberman’s leg. “Get up.”
Duberman rose. His hands trembled, but he raised his head and stared at Wells, his eyes shining. Triumphant. At this moment, Wells wanted more violence not at all, but he needed to reestablish his authority quickly. He shifted the pistol to his left hand. With his right, he jabbed Duberman beneath the ribs, a single vicious punch. Duberman doubled over, his breath shallow and fast. With his left hand, Wells brought the Sig down on Duberman’s skull. He didn’t put all his weight into the blow. He didn’t want to knock Duberman out or break bone. Duberman groaned, went to his hands and knees, his head hanging low, drool threading from his mouth. “What are you?”
“This meeting is officially over.” Wells forced himself to keep his voice calm. Steady. “But we’re not done with each other yet. You’re going to lead us out of here, Aaron. I’ll be a step behind you. Salome behind me. Vinny’s going to be the caboose. A happy little train. Right, Vinny?”
“Absolutely.”
Wells pulled Duberman up. “Your job is to make sure your guards don’t do anything dumb so I don’t have to gut you. Understand?”
Duberman wiped the spittle from his lips, nodded.
“Say it.”
“I understand.”
“You have your passport in this office?”
“Yes.”
Wells looked at Salome. “And you have yours on you, I’ll bet.”
She nodded.
“Good. We’re taking a ride in that Range Rover outside. The four of us only. Guards and phones stay here. Salome drives, Vinny sits up front with her, I sit in back with you. We’re going to Ben Gurion. Anyone tries to stop us, we kill you. You ask anyone for help, we kill you. At the airport, we go through the general aviation side. Vinny has a jet there. You two are coming with us. We’ll fly to Cyprus and drop you off there.”
“No,” Salome said.
“Why would we agree to this?” Duberman said.
“I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
“Another bluff.”
Wells shook his head. “You think I want this? It’s our only play. We can’t leave you here. Soon as we go, you make a call, we’re done. We have to keep you close until we’re off Israeli soil. I just proved I won’t kill you if you’re my prisoner. But if you won’t come, we’ll shoot you and take our chances, see how far we get.”
“Not a hundred meters.”
“Probably. But you’ll be dead already. Your choice.”
Duberman looked Wells over, seemed to see he wasn’t bluffing. “Fine. Cyprus. And Gideon?”
“He stays. Make sure he understands what happens if he calls anyone.”
Duberman and Gideon spoke in Hebrew, and Duberman laughed.
“He says after you land there, he hopes you have a rocket to the moon, because nowhere in the world will be safe.”
Thirty-five minutes later, they reached the general aviation terminal at Ben Gurion Airport. At the security checkpoint, Duto flashed his diplomatic passport, walked around the metal detector. A guard reached for him, and Duto shrugged him off.
“I’m sorry, sir—”
“I’m a United States senator.”
“Not for long,” Duberman muttered.
“I flew twelve hours here for a meeting, now I have to turn around. My back is killing me. Don’t touch me.”