The man’s eyes darted to a man sitting across the circle, and Kamigami lifted his foot. The man nodded in the same direction, as if to confirm that that individual was their leader. Kamigami lifted the man off the floor and dumped him in his chair before walking over to Tel. He spoke in English, a mere whisper. “Watch his face.” He then circled behind the men, not making a sound as he fingered the gold whistle dangling around his neck. He stopped behind the supposed leader and placed his hands on his shoulders. At the same time he gave a blast on the whistle. All the prisoners jumped with surprise, and Kamigami could feel the man shaking in fear. Still bearing down, Kamigami spoke in Cantonese. “Do you know who I am?” The canvas-covered head bobbed in answer. “I’m more than you think,” Kamigami said. “You must make a choice. Answer my questions truthfully and live. Or you can spend the next three days dying. It will be a most miserable, painful death. When you pass out, you will dream of pain and wake up screaming, only to learn the pain is real. You will curse your mother for giving you birth. Your comrades will tell me all they know, and beg me to end it. When I finally slit your stomach and let you hold your own intestines, you will thank me and kiss my feet in gratitude as you bleed to death. Choose now.”
A torrent of words erupted from the man, and the others quickly joined in. They were members of the Ninety-second People’s Liberation Regiment. It was an independent and elite unit of the People’s Liberation Army, whose mission was terrorism and insurgency. None knew how big the Ninety-second was or who commanded it, only that their unit specialized in urban terrorism. Their first and only assignment had been to start a riot in Kuala Lumpur. They all had entered Malaysia from Thailand, but when Kamigami asked a second time, one revealed that the first man he had interrogated had entered by another route. “Who burned the Malay fishing village the last week of July?” Kamigami asked. The man sitting in front of him shook his head in confused silence. They had nothing left to give. Kamigami walked over to Tel and motioned at the man who was looking directly at them. Kamigami spoke in a low voice. “What did he do?”
“He never said a word,” Tel replied. “He only listened.”
Kamigami grunted and turned to the man, who lost control of his bladder when he saw the look on Kamigami’s face. Tel also saw it and took a step backward. He bumped into Sun. “What’s going on?” Sun asked. Tel motioned him to silence, afraid to speak. The prisoner’s eyes were wide with fear as Kamigami loomed over him. He babbled in Cantonese, pleading for his life. Kamigami’s hands were a blur, grabbing the man’s chin and the back of his head. He gave a sharp jerk, and a loud snap echoed over the room. He dropped his hands, his face now impassive and calm, as the lifeless body slumped to the floor.
“Free them,” Kamigami said. “In the Taman Negara.” The colonel rushed to the door and shouted for the guards. The prisoners were dragged out as Kamigami nudged the lifeless body with his toe.
“Why him?” Tel asked.
“He was the leader.”
“When did you know?”
“When I sat them down,” Kamigami answered.
Tel was confused. “But how?”
“He was the only one who resisted. The others did as they were told. I knew for sure when they talked and he said nothing.”
“Your threat,” Gus said, “about taking three days to die. Would you have done that?”
“It wasn’t a threat.”
Tel alone understood. “It was a promise,” he explained. “Why did you kill him?”
Kamigami headed for the door. “He was there.”
“At the village,” Tel said. It wasn’t a question. Then, “Why did you release the others?”
Kamigami stopped at the door and stood in the sunlight. “So they can tell their comrades they met the vampire.” He walked outside.
Fourteen
The woman noted the time the lights came on in the president’s bedroom. Her mouth pulled into a little grimace as she shuffled toward Lafayette Park across the street from the White House. “Forty minutes early,” she murmured in Arabic, maintaining her image as a mumbling old woman who liked to feed pigeons in the early morning. Normally Madeline Turner’s morning routine was set in concrete, and the change had to be reported. The woman walked slowly across the park toward the statue of Baron von Steuben and Connecticut Avenue.
Once across the street and clear of the park, she pulled out a cell phone and hit the speed dial. The number connected, but all she heard was a loud screeching sound. She panicked and looked around to find the source of the jamming. But her training held, and she forced herself to be calm. She punched the number off and dropped the phone down a drain as she hurried north. She stepped into a doorway, shrugged off her overcoat and shook out her hair, shedding thirty years of age. Feeling more confident, she crossed the street and headed west on L Street. A nondescript SUV coasted to a stop beside her, but before the doors opened, two men were beside her. They easily picked her up by her arms and carried her to the truck. “You can’t do this!” she screamed. “I’m an American citizen!”
A man jabbed a needle into her arm. “Of course you are,” he agreed.
The Secret Service agent standing in Maddy’s bedroom spoke into her whisper mike. “Copy all. Tell the guys good work.” She smiled. “Thank you, Madam President. We caught a watcher and made a connection. This looks like a good one.”
“Was it the old woman?” Maddy asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” came the answer. “But she wasn’t old. Probably in her mid-thirties. We’ll know more in a few hours.”
“Please keep me informed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The agent made a mental note to relay the president’s request, which wasn’t really a request. The woman would be interrogated and rendered in short order as the FBI, the Secret Service, and a few other nameless agencies closed in on the terrorists stalking the White House. It was a race against time as they went head-on-head with no holds barred. “Shall I turn out the light?”
“No. I’m awake now.” Maddy sat on the edge of the bed as the agent left. Then the door opened again, and Maura came in. A woman followed with a coffee tray. “You’re up early, Mother.”
“Well, it is all exciting, isn’t it? I mean, helping catch a spy.”
“I suppose it is.” She stepped into her dressing room, where her maid was waiting.
“The news is good from Saudi Arabia,” Maura called.
“For now,” Maddy replied. Maura poured a cup of coffee and waited. A few minutes later Maddy stepped out, ready to start a new day. She snatched a tissue from a holder and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Then she was back in control.
But Maura saw the tears. “Oh, dear.” Maddy sat down as Maura pulled a comb and brush out of her ever-present handbag. She stood behind her daughter. “Well? Are you going to talk about it?”
“It’s Matt,” Maddy said. Her mother was silent as she did her magic, combing Maddy’s hair into a very simple but stylish arrangement. “I’m worried.”
“About helping SEATO?” Maura replied. “Malaysia’s a lot better than the Gulf.”
“I’m not so sure.” Silence. Then, “I’m using him.”
“A man like Matt,” Maura said as she finished, “is used only if he wants to be used.” She tapped Maddy’s shoulder with her comb. “Have you told him you love him?”
“He knows.”
“Have you told him?” There was no answer. “I think,” Maura fumed, “that you should do it before it’s too late.”