Tom Clancy's op-center_ acts of war - Tom Clancy [68]
Hasan regarded Rodgers for a moment, then turned to Mahmoud. He translated hurriedly. When Hasan finished, Mahmoud pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled. Ibrahim was sitting in the driver's seat. He didn't laugh. He was watching Mahmoud closely. After a moment, Mahmoud withdrew his hunting knife. Then he spoke to Hasan, who turned back to Rodgers.
Rodgers knew what was coming now. The terrorists realized that they couldn't pressure him directly. Mahmoud also saw that he couldn't pressure the Strikers. Threatening to harm them would only ennoble the pair, and they'd welcome that. The terrorists also couldn't afford to kill any of the civilians. The victim might know something useful.
The Syrians needed the team's cooperation, but Rodgers had made a demand they refused to honor. So now they would have to test his military asset: his skin. They had to discover how thick it was. How far he would let his civilian crew be tortured, physically or psychologically or both? While finding that out, they would also attempt to discover who was the weakest link and why, and how that individual might be manipulated.
Hasan faced Rodgers. "In two minutes," he said, "Mahmoud will slice off one of the lady's fingers. He will then amputate one finger every minute until you decide to cooperate."
"Blood won't make the van run," Rodgers said. He was still looking at the front of the ROC. Coffey and Mary Rose were nearly awake now, and Phil Katzen was coming around. Colonel Seden was still unconscious.
Hasan translated for Mahmoud, who turned around in a huff. He walked to the front of the van and cut Mary Rose's left wrist free. Then he straddled her arm and held it against his thigh. He put the knife blade-down in the space between her pinky and ring finger. He pressed down ever so slightly to draw blood and make her jump. Then he looked down at his watch.
Mary Rose was now fully alert. She looked up. "What's going on?" she asked as she tried to pull her hand free.
Mahmoud held on tightly, and he never took his eyes off his watch.
Coffey had also recovered. He was sitting to the left of Mary Rose, and appeared startled when he saw Mahmoud. "What is this?" he demanded, his face puffing with lawyerly indignation. "And who are you?"
"Sit still," Rodgers said, his voice soft but firm.
Mary Rose and Coffey both looked at him for the first time.
"Just stay calm, the two of you," Rodgers said. His brow was thickly knit and his voice was a monotone. Implicit in his stern, even manner was the fact that they were in some difficulty and were going to have to trust him.
Mary Rose seemed confused, but did as she was told. Coffey's chest began to heave, and blossoming horror had replaced the indignation in his expression. Rodgers could just imagine what he was thinking.
"What are you doing, Mike? You know the rules for situations like this "
Rodgers did indeed know the rules and they were simple. Military personnel were permitted to provide name, rank, and serial number. Nothing more. However, the only mandate for what Op-Center euphemistically called "civilian detainees" was to survive. That meant if the captors wanted information, the hostages were free to provide it. After they were released, the burden was on Op-Center or the military to apprehend the terrorists or else to protect, evacuate, or destroy the newly exposed assets. It was part of the government's characteristic underperform-and-then-overreact syndrome.
Rodgers found the idea repugnant. Civilian or soldier, one's first loyalty was to the country, not to survival. Yet it wasn't his own fierce patriotism that refused to let him capitulate. It was his own little PSYOP, his "psychological operation." He had to be tougher than that. If they didn't win some respect from their captors, this imprisonment--whether it lasted for hours, days, weeks, or months--would be one of abuse and contempt.
"Sifr dahiya," Mahmoud said.
"You have one minute," Hasan informed Rodgers. The young Syrian turned to Mary Rose. "Perhaps the lady is not so stubborn as her leader. Perhaps