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Hakim did not move, so Karim grabbed him by the shoulder and sent him on his way. As soon as he was gone, he motioned for Aabad to lead him down the hallway. He sent Aabad in first and told him to send the other men upstairs to keep a lookout. He then entered the storage room by himself. He made no effort to conceal his face.
He looked down at the black man sitting on the floor. His ankles, knees, and wrists were duct-taped. Karim studied him for a long moment. He noted the man’s fit appearance and stared into his eyes for a long time. He found them to be far too calm, considering the situation. Withdrawing a tactical knife from the back of his waistband, he asked, “What is your name?”
“Mohammad,” the man said with a set jaw and a cautious look, like he was assessing the situation.
“Of course it is,” Karim smiled as he extended the blade. He stepped forward and watched the man flinch, but noted that he did not scream. Karim reversed the grip on his knife, and with one hand, grabbed the neck of the shirt and then, taking the knife, he sliced it open along the shoulder, the cotton fabric giving way easily.
“What are you doing?” the man half shouted.
“When I fought in Afghanistan, I killed my fair share of Americans.”
“Good for you,” the man said. “It is an unjust war.”
“Yes, it is.” Karim nodded. “We would often strip their bodies and allow the local villagers to defile them.”
The man named Mohammad did not answer him this time.
“Every single one of them had a tattoo.” Karim saw fear
in the man’s eyes. Karim cut away more of the man’s shirt. There was nothing on the right bicep, but there was some ink on the left. Karim moved the man roughly and smiled as he looked down at the head of an eagle with the words Screaming Eagle underneath.
“Ah…I see you were in the army.”
“A lot of people are in the army.”
“Do a lot of people serve in elite units like the 101st Airborne Division?” Karim waited for an answer but never got one. “What is your name?”
“I told you…Mohammad.”
“No”—he held the knife in front of the man’s face—“I mean your real name. The one you had while you were in the army.”
CHAPTER 51
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
NASH found his wife in the study on the first floor, checking her e-mail. He entered the wood-paneled room and closed the door. Maggie glanced up at him, the expression on her face making it clear that she was angry. He studied her profile, her determined frown, her posture she’d gotten from all the ballet lessons she’d taken as a child. He loved her deeply but at this moment it all reminded him of how much of a spoiled brat she could be at times. Maggie’s way or the highway, was the saying her two brothers and sister were fond of using.
Nash plopped down in the overstuffed leather chair next to the fireplace and said, “Would you care to hear your son’s side of the story?”
Maggie didn’t bother to look up. “Save your breath. I’m sending the dean an e-mail right now. If I get out in front of this I might be able to salvage our son’s educational aspirations.”
“I think they’re your aspirations, Maggie.”
“If you’re going to try and bait me into an argument, just leave. Go right now.” She pointed at the door. “The only chance we have of salvaging this is by begging for forgiveness. Any penalty other than expulsion. I’m informing the dean as well as several of his teachers that we’re going to pull him off the lacrosse team.”
“The hell you are. You’re not pulling him off the lacrosse team, and he’s not one of your clients. You’re not going to lobby your way out of this.”
“Oh…he’s done with lacrosse,” she said, as if it was a forgone conclusion. “And that camp he wanted to go to this summer…that’s gone too. Just let me send this e-mail and then…” She stopped suddenly and looked at her husband, who was now bent over next to the desk.
Nash found the power cord for the computer and decided enough was enough. He yanked the cord from the back of the computer and stood.
“What the hell did you just do?” Maggie screamed.
“I just saved you from embarrassing yourself.”
Maggie cupped her face in her hands and stared at the screen. “You are the last person who should be trying to handle this. I’m the one with the experience in dealing with crisis situations…”
She continued to frantically state her case, but Nash stopped listening. He wanted to scream back at her that she didn’t know jack shit about what he did for a living. He wanted to explain the complicated operations he ran against some of the most formidable organizations on the planet. He wanted to tell her that when he fucked up, people died, and when she fucked up, her spoiled clients went somewhere else with their bag of cash. But he couldn’t, because at the end of the day it was his decision to stick with a thankless job that had almost killed him, might still kill him, and very likely might land him in jail.
