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Sayyed entered the room, a man following him with a chair similar to the one Hurley was in. He showed the man where to place it and said to Hurley, "How are you feeling today?"
"Great!" Hurley said with enthusiasm. "You guys really do a nice job of making people feel comfortable."
"Yes." Sayyed smiled. "I'm sure you would show us the same hospitality if we were in your country."
"Slightly better," Hurley said, flashing the new gap in his teeth. "You know how competitive we Americans are. We didn't put a man on the moon by making our women walk around in sheets all day and blowing ourselves up."
"We all know that was faked."
"Sure it was," Hurley said agreeably as they placed Richards in the other chair. One of the men produced a knife so he could cut Richards's duct tape. Hurley wanted that knife, and in Arabic asked, "Where's my buddy Radih? Either of you boys ever get a blow job from his mom?" Hurley then launched into an invective-filled description of the sex acts that Radih's mom used to perform for him.
Sayyed would never admit it, but this American's descriptive abilities were in a league of their own. In fact, the descriptions were so detailed that even he wondered for a second if it could be true.
Hurley read the unsure looks on the faces of the two goons and said, "You really didn't know Radih's mother was a whore? You should try her some time. She's getting a little up there in age ... not quite as tight a fit, if you know what I mean." Hurley winked at them as if they were of the same mind.
"That will be enough," Sayyed said. He ordered the men to finish taping Richards's wrists to the chair. When they were finished he told them they could wait outside.
Hurley smiled at them and waited until they were at the door and then shouted, "Don't forget to ask Radih about his mother. Dirtiest piece of ass I've ever had."
The door closed with a click. Sayyed placed his hands on his hips and let out an exasperated sigh.
"It's true," Hurley said, punctuating his words with an emphatic nod. "The woman was a sex machine. She should have paid me."
Doctrine told Sayyed he should ignore the comments, but he felt that he needed to say something. "You are a very interesting man, Mr. Sherman. You must be very unsure of yourself."
"Why do you say that, Colonel?"
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"It is so obvious. Do I really have to say it?"
"Well, unless I've learned how to read minds since we last saw each other, I suggest you spit it out."
"You are afraid you won't be able to stand up to my methods, so you are trying to enrage my colleague to the point where he kills you."
Hurley screwed on a confused look. "Colonel, you give me way too much credit. I'm not that smart. I'm just a horny bastard who's slept with a ton of prostitutes ... one of whom just happens to Radih's mom."
Sayyed laughed at him. "You are an unusual man."
"What do I have to do to get you guys to take me seriously? I'm going to lie to you about a lot of shit, but I am dead serious about Radih's mom, and I'm not knocking the woman, she was amazing. And besides, you can't blame a woman for trying to put some food on the table. Can you?"
Sayyed thought about that for a second and simply shook his head. It was time to take charge again. He wheeled his little cart over and checked his instruments. When he was ready he broke open some smelling salts and stuck them under the other American's nose. Richards snorted and opened his eyes. Turning back to the foul-mouthed older one, he said, "Your friend, Mr. Richards, was kind enough to give us his name."
"Never heard of him."
"Yes ... well, let's see if we can jog your memory. This is what we are going to do." Sayyed picked up the tin snips and said, "I will ask you a question. If you refuse to answer or lie I will cut off one of his fingers."
"Cool." Hurley straightened up as much as the tape would allow. "I'd like to see you cut one off right now. Go ahead ... let's get started."
"Mr. Sherman, what is your real name?"
"Come on, cut his finger off. Cut his wrist off ... that would be really awesome."
Richards was awake now, a panicked look in his eyes. "What the hell?"
Sayyed said, "He has already told us your name, but I want to hear you say it."
"Fine ... William Tecumseh Sherman. Are you happy now? Can we go home?"
