AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Yep." Hurley gave him a nod to confirm his conviction. "The two of us are going to take a little trip into the bowels of my sick mind, and trust me, you won't make it out unscathed."
"Ha," Sayyed laughed. This was a first. "Fine. I think we should begin our journey. Don't you?"
"Absolutely! The sooner the better ... that's my motto."
"Why have you decided to come back to Beirut after all these years?"
"You know why I'm here."
"Let's not assume I know your motives."
Hurley smiled. "You have something I want."
"And what would that be?"
Hurley had thought about this while he had sat under the putrid hood. Ivanov was due to show up the day after tomorrow and he would be desperate. They were all desperate because Hurley himself had drained their little secret bank accounts. He just hoped they hadn't gotten their hands on Richards, and if they had, that he would be smart enough to leave Hamburg out of his interrogation. He needed to make this seem to be about exactly what it was without the money coming up. "I am here to negotiate the release of John Cummins."
"And why would I give him to you?"
Hurley tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, let's think about that. If you give him back to me, I won't kill you."
This elicited laughter from all, including Hurley.
Sayyed stopped laughing abruptly and snapped his fingers. He looked at one of his men and pointed at the door. The men left and came back a few seconds later wheeling the small stainless-steel cart. Sayyed took it from him and positioned it next to the subject. He smiled at Hurley and picked up the pliers, opening and closing them.
"Manicure?" Hurley asked.
"I like to call it Twenty Questions."
"You're so clever, Sayyed," Hurley said, his voice dripping with mock admiration. "Kind of like a game show. I can't wait to get started."
"Good. Let's start with your real name."
"Jack Mehoff," Hurley offered, straight-faced.
"Jack Mehoff," Sayyed repeated. "That is your real name?"
"Of course it isn't, you fucking moron. Jack Mehoff ... jack me off. Come on, let's go. Off with the first fingernail. You win. I lose. Let's go."
Sayyed searched the subject's face for a sign of stress. He had never had a prisoner ask to have his fingernail torn off. His demeanor would change in a second, though. Sayyed chose the forefinger on the left hand and wedged the grip of the pliers in under the nail bed. "Last chance. Your first name?"
"Don't change the rules on me. Very confusing for your subjects. You said Twenty Questions. I blew the first one, come on, let's go," Hurley said with a smile.
Sayyed clamped down hard on the pliers and began to rock the nail back and forth.
"Oh, yeah," Hurley announced. "Let's get this party started."
Sayyed gave it one good yank and ripped the entire nail off.
"Holy Mary mother..." Hurley unleashed a string of swear words and then started laughing. "Damn, that stings. If that doesn't wake you up nothing will. This is great!" His laughing grew to the point where he couldn't control it. He was shaking so hard his eyes started to tear up. "Oh ... I can't wait for the next one. This is fucking great."
Sayyed remained undeterred. "Your name?"
"Bill Donovan."
"Really?"
"Nope."
