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“I know you think we’re enemies, but we’re not.”
Gadai let out a short laugh, wincing perceptibly at the pain it caused.
“We protect our countries, our homes, and our families,” Rapp said. “We do what we believe is necessary. If you’d been born in America, you’d probably be working for me.”
“I serve only the one true god.”
“I have no problem with that. And if you and Taj take control of Pakistan, I figure I’m better off. Nations aren’t a problem for the United States—we’ve been dealing with those kinds of enemies since we signed the Declaration of Independence. Chaos is a real thorn in our side, though. You and I both know that all this democracy talk from American politicians is bullshit. Muslim countries need a strong hand at the helm.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
As planned, Gadai was confused by how the conversation was playing out. “What do you want from me?”
“We know that Taj is going to kill President Chutani at the state dinner tonight.”
“What? Where did you get this information? It’s absurd.”
He was a good liar, but the pain, fatigue, and unexpected line of questioning were straining that skill past its breaking point.
“You told me as much a few hours ago,” Rapp said in a calculatedly bored tone. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter. We’ve been onto Taj for a long time. He’s great at staying under the radar and playing the bland servant, but come on. Irene Kennedy wrote the book on that trick.”
Rapp tapped the bottle of pain medication again. “Are you sure? You look like you’re really suffering.”
Gadai just stared defiantly at him.
“The way I see it, Kabir, we both have serious problems.”
“You more than me,” Gadai responded. “All you can do is kill me. Send me to paradise.”
“Actually, I can do a lot more than that, but let’s forget about that for the moment. I think you know what I’m worried about.”
“The files,” Gadai said proudly. “The first step in the inevitable destruction of your corrupt and godless country.”
Rapp rolled his eyes. “America’s not going to be destroyed, Kabir. You’re a smart guy. Let go of your ideology for a minute and think. For all the money we’ve poured into it, your military has never managed to win a war. And that’s against the Indians. We’re not the Indians.”
“We’ll destroy your intelligence network. Leave you defenseless and your government in turmoil. We’ll cut off your oil. And unlike you, we’re prepared to use our nuclear arsenal. You profess to have faith in your god but it’s a lie. Christians fear death. They fear everything.”
“I’m sure that was the plan, but what do you think I’m going to do? Just sit back and let Taj make his move?”
“He’s too clever for you. Too dedicated. And too powerful within Pakistan.”
Rapp slammed a hand down on the table between them, causing Gadai to jerk back in surprise.
“You want to sit here with stars in your eyes about Pakistan taking over the world?” Rapp shouted. “Fine. I’ll call President Chutani and tell him what’s going on at the ISI. He’ll spend the next two years cutting little pieces off Taj while I do the same to you.”
Rapp pulled out a switchblade and Gadai tried futilely to twist away, but in the end the knife just cut through his flex cuffs. Once they were severed, he moved his swollen hands to his lap, careful not to bring about another flash of rage in his captor.
“It gets worse for both of us,” Rapp said, folding the blade and moderating his tone again. “I don’t trust Chutani. I don’t want him to have those files any more than I want Taj to.”
He let that statement hang, deciding to force the Pakistani to ask him to say more. Unsatisfying as hell but it was how these standoffs were won. One small victory at a time.
“And how does it get worse for me?” Gadai said after almost a full minute of silence.
“If I keep you, then Chutani’s going to move against your family. He’ll figure there’s a chance they know something that can help him. And he won’t stop trying to get that information until they’re dead.”
Gadai’s eyes began to shift back and forth, focusing on everything in the small plane except the man in front of him. It wasn’t hard to convince him of his wife and children’s bleak future for one simple reason: It was the truth.
“I heard a rumor that Chutani took a page out of Saddam Hussein’s book,” Rapp said, looking out the window into the darkness. “He likes to lower people’s kids into vats of acid while their parents watch. Makes quite a mess, and I understand the smell is horrible.”
