"Oh, I know," Declan said, doing his best to keep his temper in check. "But I'm not interested in negotiating and you're not the American government. We both know who's been doing the terrorizing in this case. Why did you kill Abaddon Kafni?"
"I didn't. You did. After the bomb you planted at the Barton Center failed to do the job."
"That's a very well-rehearsed story, Senator. I have to admit, I'm a little impressed with the way you've gone about constructing it,'" Declan said, as he turned around and pulled a tarp-covered steel service cart over to where Kemiss was seated. "Unfortunately you picked the wrong person to set up. Do you know what happens when you strike the top of the human kneecap with a claw hammer?" He pulled back the tarp to reveal a variety of tools, including a hickory handled claw hammer. "If you strike just the right spot at just the right speed, the claw breaks the skin and lodges behind the kneecap. Then you just push up on the handle and pry the patella out like a crooked nail. It works even better if you make a small incision first." Declan popped open the blade on a folding knife he withdrew from his pocket.
Sweat rolled off Kemiss' forehead and although he did his best to blink it away, it stung his eyes, causing tears to form in the corners. He opened and closed his mouth several times, licking his lips, his discomfort obvious.
Declan continued as he picked up a bottle of water from the service cart and took a sip, "You and Castellano seemed so interested in my past activities with the IRA that I thought I'd give you a little demonstration of what the Provos did to people who'd turned on their own team, like you've done." He slowly poured the water on the ground at Kemiss' feet and picked up a small extension cord from the service cart, holding its end up and twisting it around in his hand before slicing one end off with the folding knife.
"You see, the IRA didn't take kindly to touts. Informers, if you'd prefer. They got really grumpy when they found out someone was consorting with the enemy. They would schedule a session with an internal security unit called 'the Nutting Squad' and, if you were smart, you'd present yourself at the right place and time, answer their questions honestly and put the matter behind you. That's if you weren't guilty. If you were guilty, well, the quicker you told the truth, the better, because these men liked to inflict pain. They really got off on it and you don't want to know the outcome of a long, drawn out interrogation, Senator."
Declan stopped talking and let his words sink in. He didn't like talking about the kinds of things the IRA did to people that were thought to have been informers. The IRA's brand of justice was anything but evenly applied and often times the torture began before a word was even spoken. He didn't have any direct knowledge of how the Internal Security Unit operated, but word got around. Many times the victims had turned out to be completely innocent and even with the ones who made confessions, their guilt was questionable. Under such appalling circumstances people would admit to anything just to stop the pain. In the case of the Nutting Squad, the hostility ceased with a visit from a priest and a bullet in the head.
Declan did his best to push the thoughts of dumped bodies and grief-stricken wives and children from his head. They were memories from a chapter in his life that he would do anything to rewrite and while he had never directly caused such pain or been involved with the men who had, he was guilty by association. The act of torturing another human being was atrocious to him and certainly not something he condoned or thought could ever be useful. It was the psychological effect of the possibility that did the trick most often and that was the linchpin of his plan tonight. If he allowed Kemiss to see through it, then the game they were playing would be at an end and Declan would lose.
"Why did you kill Abaddon Kafni and why are you conspiring with Baktayev to attack your own country?"
"You're insane," Kemiss said, as he closed his eyes tightly and screwed up his face. "You're an animal."
Declan could tell Kemiss was just about at the point where the grand finale he had planned would have the desired effect. "An insane animal? Good thought, Senator. I'm sure you know all about insane animals and what they do to the kind of innocent people you've conspired with them to attack. The Chechen militants like Baktayev? They're insane animals and he's the leader of the pack."
"I don't know any Ruslan Baktayev!" Kemiss spat, as he mustered what seemed like his last scrap of intestinal fortitude.
The temperature in the room had to be nearing combustion levels and the consistent roar of the propane heater was clearly having the effect Declan had intended. The entire environment had been designed to be as stressful as possible and Kemiss was proving to be every bit the pansy Declan had thought he would be. "I never said his name was Ruslan, Senator. Checkmate."
Kemiss' eyes opened and darted around the room between Declan, the two masked men and his wife, who was again making muffled pleas.
"I think your wife has something to say to you," Declan said, as he walked over and pulled back the tape on her mouth.
"You son of a bitch!" Mary Ellen Kemiss screamed. "You've been sitting here all this time and you never even thought to ask about your children!"
Kemiss' eyes darted to his wife as Declan placed the tape back over her mouth.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Senator," he said. "Did you think I was going to do all of these things to you?"
Across the room, Nazari ripped down the tarp that had been concealing the far side of the garage. Keniss watched in horror as two small people sitting on metal chairs were revealed, their wrists bound behind their backs and black hoods covering their heads. Each wore only a pair of white underpants that were clearly soaked with sweat that ran from their pale skin.
Kemiss drew in a labored breath and his eyes went wide as he saw his two sons seated at the other end of the garage. Declan reached for the claw hammer.
"I'll tell you what I know!" the senator screamed. "I know who Ruslan Baktayev is and I know that he killed Abaddon Kafni. I know you're innocent, I swear! Seth Castellano and I set you up after you witnessed Baktayev leaving the scene of Kafni's death. We had to keep anyone from finding out he was in the country."
"Why kill Kafni?"
"Because that was the price Baktayev wanted for doing business. He had a personal vendetta for something, I don't know what, and he would only do what was wanted of him if we helped him kill Kafni."
"Why Baktayev?"
"Because he had a history in committing the kind of terror that was planned, he was behind the Beslan School crisis and nobody would think twice about him doing it again. It was a suicide mission, a martyrdom for Allah, so he wouldn't be around for interrogation. He planned the entire thing himself in 2004 before he was arrested in Russia. We only got him out of jail and asked him to pick up where he left off."
"And who set up the bomb at the Barton Center?"
"We did. The bomb was a distraction to get Kafni evacuated, but we were hoping he would be killed and that Baktayev wouldn't get the opportunity to murder him the way he was planning. It didn't work. Kafni escaped and you followed him to where he was staying."
"Who were the men who set up the bomb? Were they the same men that came after me?"
"Castellano hired them. He knew them from somewhere, I don't know where. He hired them to set up the bomb in the trunk of the security car and to distract Kafni's men. After he interviewed you and realized you knew who Baktayev was, he sent them to kill you and your wife."
"Why did you do all of this?"
"It wasn't my idea. Someone else came to me with it months ago."
"Who?"
Kemiss shook his head as if he wasn't going to tell.
"Who?" Declan yelled, picking up the claw hammer.