First Daughter - Eric van Lustbader [53]
Returning inside, Garner signaled to the guards, who jerked the prisoners' chairs around, pulled off their hoods. The men blinked, disoriented. They stared at each other, then at Garner and Jack, their eyes wide open. They were clearly terrified.
"Who are you?" one of the men asked. "Why are we here?"
Garner strode over to the soapstone sink, inserted a rubber stopper in the drain, turned on the cold-water faucet full-blast. As the water began to fill the sink, he said, "Peter Link, Christopher Armitage, you're members of E-Two, the missionary secularist terror group."
"What?" both men said nearly simultaneously. "We're not!"
Garner stared down at the rising water. "Are you telling me you're not missionary secularists?"
"We believe that organized religion—all organized religion—is a danger to modern-day society," Chris Armitage, the man on the right said.
"But we're not terrorists," Peter Link said from the opposite side of the room.
"You're not, huh?" Garner signaled to Link's guard, who unshackled him, hauled him up by the back of his collar, frog-marched him over to where Garner was standing. Garner turned off the cold-water tap. The sink was filled to the brim.
Link stared from Garner's face to the gently rippling water. "You can't be serious. . . . What do you think this is, a police state?"
Garner slammed his fist into Link's stomach. As the man doubled over, Garner grabbed both sides of his head, jammed it into the sink. Water fountained up, foaming as Link began to thrash.
"You can't do this!" Armitage shouted. "This is America—we're guaranteed the right of free speech!"
Garner hauled the sputtering, choking Link out of the water. The guard grasped his arms as Garner turned to Armitage, dug in his jacket pocket, flipped open his ID for the other man to see. "As far as you and your pal here are concerned, I am America."
Stowing his ID, he got back to work torturing Peter Link. But as Link went under for the second time, Jack put a hand on Garner's arm.
"This isn't the way," he said softly. "You're being foolish."
He sensed that was the wrong thing to say. Garner kept his hands on the back of Link's submerged head as he glared into Jack's face.
"Get your fucking hands off me, or I swear to God you'll be next."
"You brought me in for my help," Jack said quietly. "I'm giving you my opinion—"
"I didn't bring you in, McClure. In fact, I fought to keep you out. But the new president will have his way, even if it's the wrong way."
Using the edge of his hand, Jack struck Garner's elbow at the ulna nerve, breaking his grip on Peter Link. Jack hauled him out of the water. Tears streamed out of Link's eyes, and he vomited water all over himself.
"Jesus Christ!" Armitage shouted, terrified.
Garner broke away from Jack, stalked over to Armitage, yelled in his face, "You don't get to use those words!" He was seething, his shoulders bunched, his hands curled into tight fists. A pulse beat spastically in his forehead.
Jack, seeing that Link was semiconscious, laid him down on the floor. He knelt beside him, checked his pulse, which was erratic and weak. Looking up, he said to Garner, "I sure as hell hope you have a doctor on premises."
Garner opened his mouth to say something, apparently thought better of it, hauled out his cell phone. Not long after, the door swung open and a physician appeared. He hurried over to where Peter Link lay in a puddle of water and his own vomit.
Jack rose and said to Garner, "Let's take a walk."
THE SKY was piled with ugly-looking clouds, ready for a fight. A stiff wind hit their faces with a chill edge, making their noses run, their eyes water.
"I'll have your career for this," Garner said as they walked past the dormant rose garden.
"You'd do best to cool down," Jack said, "before you make threats."
Garner stalked ahead, then whirled on Jack. "You challenged my authority in there."
"You exceeded your authority," Jack said quietly. "We're not in Iraq."
"We don't have to be," Garner said. "This is a matter of national security. We're dealing with homeland terrorists, traitors