Agency Rules - Never an Easy Day at the Office (33 page)

“Isn
’t this illegal? Against some Geneva convention or other?” Chaudhry asked. “We can’t do this.”

“
We don’t do this,” the General replied with steel in his voice. “The military does this to protect the nation of internal and external threats. We can’t be concerned about conventions that apply to nations when dealing with those who have none.”

“But Ge…
Misbah,” the Prime Minister said. “These are our citizens.”

“Our citizens?!?” the General said laughing. “These people are not citizens of my country. They know a singular purpose… to create mayhem and destruction in Pakistan. And we will do whatever needs to be done to stop them,” he continued. “Now, please sit down so I can show you why we brought you here.”

The Premier wanted to argue his position with the General, but the look in his eyes said that would be the worst thing to do at this point. The General turned to one of operators saying, “Bring suspect zero to the interrogation rooms.” The operator picked up the wireless set that sat on the table next to him, giving orders to someone in the holding area. The Prime Minister watched the screens, looking for any sign of who suspect zero was. “Put it up on the main screen for our guest to watch,” the General said. The operator quickly flipped the dial and transferred the video feed to the main screen in front of the two men, turning his attention to finding the right button for the microphone in the room.

As they watched the detainee being dragged out of one of the cells, the door to the room buzzed open and a young bearded man entered. The General rose to greet him and had a quick conversation before bringing him over to the meet the Premier.

“Ahsan Chaudhry,” the General said. “This is Afzal Saleem, one of our interrogators and deep cover assets. Afzal, you know Ahsan.”

“Only from certain tape recordings,” Afzal said smiling. The General was amused by the subordinate
’s thinly veiled joke, knowing that there was more truth to the statement than either would like to let on to the Premier. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

The Prime Minister shook his hand as Afzal took a seat behind the two men. Afzal was there to confirm or refute any information that was gleaned from suspect zero, a.k.a. Faheem. Afzal Saleem was a cover identity for any ISI asset in a room with a civilian. The asset identities were never compromised. In this case, Afzal Saleem was Kamal Khan.

Faheem was led into the interrogation room by two men and chained to the hook in the concrete floor. His hands were left shackled but not chained to the floor. He tried to resist, but one of the men slammed a forearm into his jaw forcing him into compliance. He had been regularly beaten over the past three weeks causing swelling around the eyes, jaw and nose. His face was unrecognizable compared to the photograph in his file. As the operator adjusted the focus and sound levels of the microphone, another man dressed in black entered the room, sitting down on a chair near Faheem. The Premier assumed that was the interrogator, but wondered why Afzal was there if that was the interrogator.

“
Good morning, Faheem,” the man said. “Did you sleep?”

Faheem looked over at the man, shaking from fear of being abused again and the untended wounds on his body. “I… can
’t… sleep,” he responded. “Too… much… pain.”

“Pain?” the interrogator asked. “You know that you
’re the one that controls the amount of pain you feel or don’t feel?”

Faheem
’s body shook as he struggled against the chains. “I… have… told you… everything…”

“Now, we both know that isn
’t true,” the man said, rising from his chair and moving around to behind Faheem. “There are so many things that you aren’t telling me.”

“No… I have… told you… everything,” Faheem sputtered.

The man came around him and hit him with a hard right cross, causing his head to jerk to the left, spitting blood and drool out on the floor. “You have not told me everything Faheem,” the man said, drawing himself close to his face. “If you had told me what I want to know, I wouldn’t need to continue interrogating you. Would I?”

“What else… can… do… you want… to know” Faheem said, blood drooling out of his mouth. “I… don
’t know… anything else…”

The man stopped to the left of him, pausing to consider whether to hit him again. He went back to his chair and picked up the file, sitting down. “Faheem, tell me about The Sanctuary. How many rooms does it have?”

“What Sanctuary?” Faheem replied, fighting the pain that was shooting through his jaw, already dislocated once, now it seemed to be broken. “I… have never… been to… a sanctuary.”

“Faheem, we have an asset on ground in Bajaur that told us that you are a frequent visitor to The Sanctuary,” the man said, reading the notes that had been provided from Kamal
’s intelligence. “Let’s start with something easier. Who lives at The Sanctuary?”

“
I don’t know!” Faheem yelled at the interrogator. “I don’t know about this place at all.”

Back in the room, Afzal leaned forward and asked the General, “How long do we wait before I go in and start properly interrogating him?”

“If you think you can get better results,” the General said looking back at him with a smile. “Please go ahead. We have not been able to get more from him.”

Afzal didn
’t need a second invitation, getting out of his chair and going into a room. He emerged minutes later in the standard black attire of the facility staff and exited the room.

“Where is he going?” Chaudhry asked the General. “Is he an interrogator?”

“He is a…specialist,” the General replied. “He has been on-ground in the area that suspect zero is being questioned about and inside The Sanctuary.”

“Why wasn
’t he used before?” Chaudhry asked.

“Because he thinks that Afzal is dead…” the General replied with a smirk. “This should be interesting.”

There was a knock at the door that stopped the interrogation questions. The interrogator looked at the door for a moment before resuming his questioning. The first knock was followed by a much harder knock turning to a pounding, causing the interrogator to stop his questioning again.

“What is it!” he yelled opening the door, but his attitude quickly changed when he saw who was standing on the other side. Faheem couldn
’t see anything, his vision hampered by both the swelling of his eyes and the wall.

“
Good morning sir,” Faheem heard the interrogator say, only able to make out this side of the conversation.

“No, sir. He has not.”

“But sir, just a little more time and I can get the information we need.” Faheem quietly smirked listening to the dressing down that the interrogator was getting for not getting whatever information the man outside wanted. “Yes, sir.”

Faheem watched as the interrogator returned to the room, looking extremely dejected by what had just happened outside. Collecting his pad and files, he looked at Faheem and shook his head. “You had a chance with me,” he said, as two men entered pushing metal carts with various instruments on them. “Now, you don
’t have a chance. The next interrogator… he has a reputation for…” He walked slowly to the door, turning around once again. “If you want to get out of here alive, just tell him what he wants to know,” he said, voice laced with concern for Faheem for the first time. “Just tell him, otherwise…” He walked around the corner, footsteps fading away into the distance

Faheem sat alone in the room, feeling slightly confident that he had caused whoever was holding him to change interrogators because they were unable to extract the required information. He had held his will through the abuse and torture, not revealing anything about The Sanctuary, the Sheikh or Mullah Fazal. His fear of what they could do to him far outweighed anything the interrogator could do. But as he looked at the instruments on the carts, his mind began to visualize how each could be used and a new fear filled him.
They are not interested in just information anymore, they are going to punish me until I talk.
He began to shake as the fear spread through his brain, occupying all his thoughts.

A man came around the corner and stood in the doorway. The light was behind him, causing Faheem to strain his eyes trying to make out his features. Rather than rushing in, the man called orders to the guards who were already inside the room. “Inject him,” he said calmly. One man reached for a syringe on the cart, another grabbed hold of him so that he could not move. Faheem fought, writhing from one side to side to avoid the injection, but was unable as the man finally penetrated his skin with the needle. He felt his body begin to seize up, unable to move his torso or legs.
What is this drug
, he thought as it slowly moved through his body stopping movement completely. He yelled as the paralytic took over his body, but there was something else in that syringe, something that made the visions in his mind came to life as if they were real.

“I didn
’t think that I would see you again after Peshawar,” the man said from the shadows in the back of the room, out of Faheem’s sight. “But here we are.” Faheem recognized the voice from the warehouse, but how…

“Show yourself!” Faheem yelled, trying to turn his head but the paralytic had frozen his muscles. “I killed you! I shot you myself, how can you be here?” Faheem shouted, his voice echoing in the room.

“Well, that clarifies that you are as bad a shot,” the man said laughing menacingly, “…as you are a liar,” he said coming out of the shadows to reveal himself. He walked slowly towards him, speaking in careful measured bursts, making sure to register each word in Faheem’s mind. “I am not as kind as the last man who questioned you. I am going to ask questions and you are going to answer them. If you lie to me or try to hide something from me…” Kamal swung his elbow around and landed it hard against Faheem’s windpipe. Faheem gasped trying to catch his breath as the pain of the impact shot through his neck. “Do we understand each other?” Faheem tried to reach out to grab him but his arms wouldn’t respond to his demands. Kamal landed another punch to his face, further closing his already swollen eye. “Do… we… understand… each other?” Kamal asked again, hovering over Faheem.

“I have… told… them everything,” Faheem stammered out.

Kamal laughed again. “You have told them what they know. I have been to The Sanctuary, you can’t lie to me.”

Faheem now understood why the interrogator showed so much concern for him before leaving the room. He was blind to the details that Faheem shared, taking everything to be verified by this man. Obviously, they had figured out that most of what he had told them was lies. Dawood was someone who intimately knew The Sanctuary and would be able to decipher his lies as he told them.

“Let’s get started,” Kamal said. “I don’t want to waste my time with you. I have other more pressing things to do today.” He paused for a second, watching Faheem trying to struggle with the shackles that bound him. “How many people are stationed at The Sanctuary as security?” he asked calmly.

“
I don’t know,” Faheem yelled back at him.

Kamal was angered by the reaction and answer. He leaned in close to Faheem
’s face, saying “Do you think that I’m as stupid as you are? You tried to capture me, but couldn’t. We got you,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to think that you’re anything more than a prisoner… we… no, I will do what I want with you. No one is going to save you from me,” he said, picking up a rod from the cart. “Now, let’s try this again. How many people are stationed at The Sanctuary as security?” he asked again, pushing a lever on the rod causing electricity to jump from it.

“
Twenty five,” Faheem said watching as he brought the rod closer to him, electric charges jumping as he neared.

“
Much better,” Kamal said. “Coverage? How many men where?”

“Ten men in the house, another fifteen along the mountainside.”

“See, when you cooperate, no one touches you,” Kamal said with a devious smirk. “How many snipers and anti-aircraft weapons?” he asked, walking towards the wall in front of Faheem.

“None,” Faheem said without hesitation. Kamal spun around, surprised that Faheem had chosen to lie again.

“I thought we understood each other…” Kamal said as he stepped forward, touching the electric rod to the iron shackles on Faheem’s wrists. He watched as he convulsed from the electric shock charging through his body, the room filling with the smell of burnt flesh. Kamal barely stepped out of the way as Faheem vomited all over himself.

“Guard!” Kamal called out. “Come wash him off.” The guard entered through the slightly open door with a power hose in his hands, releasing a high-pressure stream of water at Faheem
’s body. The impact spun the chair around and knocked it to the ground; the leg restraints kept it from turning completely around. “Turn it off and pick him up,” Kamal said. The guard dropped the hose and snatched him off the ground, sitting him straight again. “Now, let’s try that again… how many snipers and anti-aircraft weapons?” Kamal asked again, beating his hand with the rod. Faheem watched as Kamal picked up a piece of rubber from the cart and drop it on the concrete floor beneath him. Stepping onto the rubber mat, he watched Kamal ignite the electric rod again. He turned to Faheem, asking again, “Snipers? Anti-aircraft weapons?”