Full Black - Brad Thor [28]
Apparently satisfied, he released his chin and gently put the bandage back in place. “Sit down,” the man said, pointing to a crate nearby.
Chase did as he was told. The man was speaking to him in English now. It wasn’t perfect, but it was quite good. He told the other two men in Arabic to wait outside.
Once they had exited the garage, he turned his attention back to Chase. “Tell me about the accident,” he said.
Chase was definitely being tested. “Someone ran us off the road.” He made sure there was just enough British in his accent.
“Intentionally run off?”
Chase shrugged.
“What did the car look like?” asked the man.
“It was blue or gray. I can’t really remember.”
“You didn’t see it?”
“Not until it was too late. Nafees and I were talking.”
The man studied him. “Talking about what?”
Chase was silent for a moment. Finally, he replied, “About my uncle.”
“And what exactly about your uncle were you talking about?”
“I wanted to know what had happened to him; how he had died. I wanted to know who killed him. I wanted to know why.”
“What did Nafees tell you?” the man asked.
“He told me the same thing he had at the airport. He told me to wait until we arrived in Uppsala and all would be revealed.”
“And what did Waqar say during your drive?”
“Not much, except that I ask too many questions.”
The big man smiled, but as quickly as the smile crossed his face, it disappeared. “How did they die?”
Chase had been trained by the best. He knew the man was probing him. The mantra that was drummed into every intelligence operative’s head was to deny, deny, deny and launch counteraccusations. The big man had yet to accuse him of anything directly, but the intimations were clear and he needed to go on the offensive. “How do you think they died? I told you, we were in a car accident. You don’t believe me? Why don’t you go take a look at it yourself? There’s blood all over. Nafees was thrown halfway through the windshield.”
“But Waqar was still wearing his seat belt,” said the man.
“And?”
The man shrugged and said nothing.
“I don’t even know who you are,” said Chase.
“I am Sabah.”
“Your name could be Mickey Mouse for all I care, mate. How do I know you are not a cop?”
The big man smiled again. “I am not a police officer, at least not anymore.”
“Well, that’s not very reassuring. Waqar and Nafees were friends of my uncle. I don’t know the rest of you at all.”
“Yet you accepted the plane ticket and came when we asked.”
“I came when Waqar and Nafees asked,” clarified Chase.
Sabah nodded. “Understood. I only have one more question.”
“Only one?”
“What happened to the other car?”
“What other car?” asked Chase, the exasperated, smartass programmer tone fully apparent in his voice.
“The one that ran you off the road?” said Sabah.
“I was in the backseat. I didn’t see where it went.”
“It didn’t stop? The driver didn’t offer you aid?”
“I told you, I hit my head.”
Sabah smiled. “You told me no such thing.”
“Well, whoever I talked to on Waqar’s phone, I told him.”
“So you were knocked unconscious. When you awoke, the other car that ran you off the road was not there. Is this correct?”
“The more you talk, the more I’m convinced you’re a cop,” said Chase.
“You’re not answering my question.”
“I must have blacked out, because the last thing I remember is us rushing headlong into a tree. The next thing I remember was the blood pouring from my head and finding Waqar and Nafees both dead.”
“Yet you had the presence of mind to take Waqar’s cell phone and call us,” replied Sabah.
“Who else would I call? I don’t know anyone in this country.”
“How did you know to use Waqar’s phone to call us?”
“That’s a serious question?”
Sabah nodded and Chase rolled his eyes. “Because,” Chase said, thankful they’d had the men under surveillance at the airport, “Waqar placed a call when we were walking to his car after I got off the plane. I assume he was calling to tell you I had arrived.”
“What