Full Black - Brad Thor [134]
When the plane leveled out, Harvath opened his eyes and nodded to the SEAL in charge. He in turn signaled his men, who all produced black balaclavas and rolled them down over their faces.
Harvath opened the trunk and three of the SEALs shined bright flashlights into the faces of the two captives. Two other SEALs reached down and yanked out Tariq Sarhan, after which Harvath slammed the lid back down. Yatsko would get his turn, but for the time being, Harvath wanted him as disoriented and as frightened as possible.
A heavy steel cable, complete with a metal hook, had been thrown over one of the cargo area’s upper supports. It ran to a winch covered with chipped yellow paint.
The two SEALs held Sarhan upright under his arms as Harvath removed his knife and cut through the tape and FlexCuffs binding his wrists. The sense of relief the terrorist felt at having his hands cut free was short-lived as one of the other SEALs forced his wrists together in front of his body and resecured them again with tape.
The hook was then slipped beneath the tape, and the SEAL manning the winch was instructed to take up the slack. The cable grew taut and Sarhan’s arms were lifted above his head. The winch kept cranking until the terrorist was forced to stand on tiptoe and Harvath signaled for it to stop.
Reaching up for the piece of duct tape he had placed across Sarhan’s mouth, Harvath ripped it away along with the crust of dried blood that had formed around his badly burned and blistered upper lip. His scream was so loud it could be heard well above the roar of the aircraft noise.
The man was cursing in Arabic, and Harvath gave him an open-handed slap to the side of the face to get him to shut up.
“Tariq, you’re in a lot of trouble, my friend,” said Harvath. “Do you know where we’re going?”
Sarhan didn’t answer, and Harvath hadn’t expected him to.
“We’re on our way to visit some friends of mine in Cairo,” he told his prisoner. “The Mukhabarat are very interested in your visit.”
The terrorist looked at him with contempt. “You lie,” he hissed. “There is no more Mukhabarat. The Egyptian secret police were thrown out after the revolution.”
“Unfortunately for you, that isn’t the case. You see, the new government needs the Mukhabarat even more than the old government. And let’s face it, what would Egypt be without its secret police?
“Maybe the name will change, but their methods will still be the same. By the way, they wanted me to ask you if you had any family members you’d like them to contact for you. Actually, don’t bother answering that. I’m sure they’re already busy tracking them down.”
If Sarhan was troubled by the threat, he didn’t show it.
“Here’s the thing, though, Tariq. I don’t want to go to Cairo. That’s too long for me to wait to get the answers I need. Too many Americans have died for me to risk a single life more. So you and I are going to have a very intimate conversation. Right here. And you’re going to tell me every single thing, no matter how small or unimportant you think it may be, and you’re going to tell me right now.”
Tariq Sarhan had his answer ready. Once again he attempted to spit at Harvath and missed.
“Bad choice,” said Harvath as he nodded to the SEAL operating the winch to tighten the cable up even further.
For the next three hours, Harvath worked on Sarhan. After the third time the terrorist passed out, Harvath had him taken down. Sarhan knew very little beyond his own operation. There were bits and pieces that Harvath would include with his debrief, but he doubted they’d be of much help. This network had been very