“You know what the worst part about dying is?” Sebastian asked. Voice soft. Conversational. “It's not the pain. It's the knowing. Knowing that you're going to die and there's nothing you can do to stop it.”
The man was crying now. Snot and tears mixing with blood. “Please. Please I don't know anything useful.”
“You know more than you think.” Sebastian stood. Nodded to me. “His left hand. All of them.”
I broke three fingers in quick succession. The man's screams turned to sobs. Incoherent. Broken.
“Ghost Zero!” Sebastian's voice cut through the crying. Sharp. Commanding. “How do you receive orders?”
“Encrypted. Email. Dark web servers.” The words came fast now.Desperate. “We never see his face. Never hear his voice. Just text. Instructions. Targets.”
“What kind of targets?”
“Politicians. Businessmen. Anyone. Anyone he wants watched or eliminated.”
“The royal family?”
“Yes! Yes, we've been watching them for months! Reporting schedules, security changes, everything!”
I grabbed him by the hair. Forced his head back. “What is Ghost Zero planning?”
“I don't know! I swear I don't know! He doesn't tell us the big picture! We just follow orders!”
“Bullshit.” I slammed his head against the pipe. Once. Twice. Blood ran from his scalp. “You know something. Tell us or I start breaking bones that don't heal.”
“Wait! Wait!” He was hyperventilating now. Panicking. “There's. There's a meeting. I heard about a meeting.”
Sebastian and I exchanged a look.
“What meeting?” Sebastian asked.
“They're coordinating something big. Something that happens soon. That's all I know. I swear that's all I know!”
“When?”
“I don't know!”
“Where?”
“I DON'T KNOW!” He was sobbing now. Completely broken. “They don't tell us! We're just foot soldiers! Expendable! We get orders and we follow them or we disappear!”
I pulled out a bucket. Filled it with water from the tap that still worked. Came back.
“What are you doing?” the man asked. Eyes wide. Terrified.
“Waterboarding. You are going to tell me everything you know about Ghost Zero. Every detail. Every message. Every instruction.” I grabbed a towel. “And you are going to do it now.”
“No. No please. I can't breathe underwater. I have asthma. Please don't?—”
I put the towel over his face. Poured water. He thrashed. Choked. Couldn't breathe.
I counted to fifteen. Pulled the towel away.
He gasped. Coughed. Vomited water and bile.
“Ghost Zero,” I said. “Talk.”
“He's. He's methodical. Plans everything. Months in advance.” The words came between gasps. “The motorcade attack. That was just a test. Testing security response. Testing how close they could get.”
