He picked up a STABO harness and strapped it on, pulling the green nylon straps tight. It went around his chest, with two straps through his legs and over his shoulders. Arif was having a harness put on, assisted by one of the instructors. The blades of the Blackhawk were still turning, the crew chief making sure the rope was free of any snags.
Dublowski gave the crew chief a thumbs up and the Blackhawk lifted off, the rope pulling up below it. Dublowski walked to the end of the rope and clipped the snap link to the front of his rig. He gestured for al Arif — who was looking a bit confused to be singled out to go next — to come closer. He snapped Arif in.
"Clear," Dublowski said into the mike.
"Lifting." The pilot's voice was a crackle in his left ear.
Dublowski smiled at al Arif, who was looking up with wide eyes at the chopper fifty feet overhead. "Relax and enjoy the ride," Dublowski advised him. He reached down, fingers running along al Arif's harness. "Here, let me adjust this for you."
"I do not want to do this!" al Arif cried out.
"Too late." Dublowski felt the harness tighten around his body, then his feet leave the ground. Al Arif's body was pulled up against his. He heard a whine of pain from the other man as the leg strap he had "adjusted" tightened against al Arif's testicles, the man's body weight adding to the force.
Dublowski reached with one hand and grabbed the Saudi by the neck, while with the other he pulled the strap back into proper position. "I think you want to talk to me now, don't you?"
Tears were coming out of al Arif's eyes. The Blackhawk began moving horizontally and they were pulled along, flying a hundred feet above the treetops.
"What's going on down there?" the pilot asked over the radio.
"Just fly," Dublowski growled into the mike. He tightened his grip on al Arif's neck. "Jawhar and Akil Matin. Talk to me."
Al Arif started to shake his head, then realized he better not. He gasped the words out with each tortured breath. "I cannot speak of them. It would be dangerous."
"This is dangerous," Dublowski said. "This is dangerous now. You can worry about the Matin brothers later or me now. Your choice." He released his grip on al Arif's neck and reached down to the snap link connecting the other man's harness to the rope. He turned the locking screw until it was free.
Al Arif tried to fight Dublowski, but the Green Beret blocked the smaller man's efforts. He pressed the snap link gate in. "Long way down," Dublowski said.
Al Arif's eyes were wide open, staring down at the pine trees rushing by below his dangling feet. "Please!"
"What the hell are you doing down there?" The pilot's voice was worried.
Dublowski looked up. He could see the crew chief leaning out of the cargo bay, watching them.
"Just fly the helicopter," he said into the mike. "Tell me about Jawhar and Akil," he said to Arif, shaking the smaller man's harness.
"They are very powerful. Their father is very, very powerful." Al Arif looked down at the open gate. "Please, close it!"
Dublowski let it snap shut, but he didn't screw the lock down. "More."
The Blackhawk was banking, turning back toward the landing zone.
"They are army like me, but they are more than army. They work for the secret police."
"Do they kidnap girls?"
"I don't know."
The chopper was slowing as they approached the LZ.
Dublowski pushed on the snap link once more, opening the gate. "Do they kidnap girls?"
A1 Arif's head bobbed anxiously. "I have heard rumors."
"Where do they take them?"
"I—" a1 Arif thought better of what he was about to say. "I have heard only rumors. A place. A secret place. Called Nabi Ulmalhamah. I do not know where it is. I swear on Allah!"
The tops of the tall pine trees were fifty feet below them. Dublowski could see the large open area where the airfield was off to the northeast.
"What are they up to?" Dublowski lifted the Saudi up, free of the snap link, his legs dangling.
"I do not understand!" al Arif whined.
Dublowski felt something wet on his leg. He looked down — al Arif had wet himself.
"They met with some arms dealers in Germany. Why?"
"I do not know! I swear. What Prince Yasin does, no one knows except him."
The chopper was lowering them straight down. Dublowski let go of al Arif. The other man yelped, his eyes closed. The harness clicked into the snap link. Their feet touched down. He unhooked as Sergeant Major Kilgore and Colonel Parker came rushing up.
"What the hell was that?" Kilgore demanded. "The pilot's been having a fit over the radio."
Dublowski pulled free of the rope. Al Arif collapsed on unsteady legs, an instructor unhooking his harness from the rope. The Blackhawk sidled over and landed about sixty feet away. The pilot was out the door and striding over to them.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" the pilot pulled off his helmet and demanded of Dublowski.
"Whoa!" Parker yelled as Dublowski pulled a pistol out from under his shirt and pulled the slide back. She stepped between the sergeant major and the pilot. "Why don't we all calm down a little here?"
"Don't get in my face," Dublowski yelled at the pilot.
"Who the fuck—"
"Enough!" Parker yelled, pulling her ID card out and shoving it in the pilot's face. "I will take care of this man. Is that clear?"
The pilot saw the rank on the ID card, but his face was still flushed. "He could have killed that man—" He pointed at al Arif. "When we're in the air, every person attached to that helicopter is my responsibility, ma'am."
"I understand that," Parker said. "And as I said, I will take care of this man. He's under my command."
"Let's all just chill out here," Kilgore said. "We're just training. The sergeant major was just introducing our allied friends to a form of interrogation."
The pilot shook his head and walked away. Parker grabbed Dublowski by the arm and pulled him in the opposite direction. "What the hell was that?" she demanded.
"Our friend was reluctant to talk," Dublowski said. "I helped him open up."
"You're a flaming asshole," Kilgore said with a laugh. "Surprised your little friend didn't shit in his pants."
"Can you keep him away from a phone?" Dublowski asked as they passed the rappelling tower.
"Hell, yeah," Kilgore said. "Al Arif's entire class is going to the field for two weeks. Ain't no phones out there in the woods."
"Thanks," Dublowski said. "I owe you."
They walked though the compound to Dublowski's truck.
"Anything else you need, give me a call," Kilgore called out as they climbed in.
Dublowski started the car and drove out the gate.
"Stop the car," Parker said as they turned onto the dirt road.
"What?"
"Stop the car."
Dublowski braked and they stopped in the shade of the pine trees. "What's up?"
Parker turned in her seat until she faced the sergeant major. "Are you going to be under control?"
"I was—"
"You could have killed that man and he wasn't the enemy," Parker said.
"I just—"
"Are you going to be under control?" Parker spit the words out flatly and harshly. "I understand your concern for your daughter, but I'm not going to have the cure be worse than the disease here. I've been there before and I'm not going there again. Is that clear?"
Dublowski stared at her for several seconds, a muscle on the side of his face jumping. Then he nodded. "Clear."
Chapter Twenty-one
The Ukrainian colonel came to an abrupt halt three feet inside the door as he caught sight of the bed.
"What is that?"
Jawhar pushed the door shut behind the colonel and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him farther into the room. He smiled. "I call it art."