The gator’s head looked like a lemon — it had more width than height, and his skin color was jaundiced. He also had the muscle mass of a bodybuilder. Gator nodded to his assistant, who poured a gallon water jug from two feet above Mordet’s nose and mouth. Immediately, Mordet gagged. Seconds later, his body went limp. Either he was too tired to fight or he was purposely allowing his nose and mouth to fill up with water and causing himself to asphyxiate. The average person would begin talking by fifteen seconds — saying anything, truth or lies, to make the waterboarding stop. Each session would last no longer than forty seconds but could be repeated for up to twelve minutes in a day. “How long have they been doing this?” Chris asked.
“About half an hour,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I’m not complaining, but does Lemon Head know what he’s doing?”
Hannah shrugged. “He’s a contractor.”
“We really don’t have time for amateur hour. Young doesn’t have time.” Chris left the gator pit and rushed to the interrogation booth, where he burst inside the cramped room.
Gator turned around, and his brow furrowed. “What the hell?”
Mordet stirred as if from a sleep. Water trickled from his nose and mouth.
Chris motioned for Gator to step out of the room with him. The man gestured to his assistant to watch their prisoner.
They exited the booth and walked down the hall. “I was in the middle of an interrogation,” Gator said.
“The middle?” Chris asked.
Gator puffed out his chest. “I’ll break him,” he said proudly.
“I can see that.” Chris was unable to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“Who are you?”
“We can’t launch a rescue until we know where Young is.”
Gator came to a stop in the pit near where Hannah sat. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Young is running out of time and—”
“You can’t rush progress,” Gator interrupted.
Chris stared hard at him, and tension filled his voice. “We’re out of time.”
Gator leaned forward. “My interrogation was working until you interrupted.”
Chris stood his ground. “Maybe you can update me on the intel you already extracted.”
With his index finger, Gator poked Chris in the chest. “You need to chill.”
“I am chill.” Chris pushed the finger away from his chest.
“You don’t seem chill to me.”
“Maybe I can persuade Mordet to talk.”
Gator leaned in even closer so Chris could feel the heat and smell the bunghole-stink of his breath. “Maybe you don’t understand who’s in charge here.”
“I’m not asking to take over,” Chris said. “You can take credit for any intel I acquire. I’m just asking for a shot at Mordet.”
“You hot-shits think you can do anything you want because everyone’s scared of you. Well, I’m not scared of you.”
“I’m not trying to scare you. I just want to find Young.”
“So does everyone else, but I’m the one who knows about interrogation, and you need to get authorization before you interrogate the prisoner!”
“Are you saying you have no authority here?”
“I have authority!”
Chris tried to remain calm. “I only know that I was waterboarded in SERE school. And I’ve worked with some of the best gators in the business. And you’re not one of them.”
Hannah, still sitting in her chair in front of the live video monitor, chuckled.
Chris turned to her and said, “Tell those guys in the booth to stop screwing around and prepare the prisoner for interrogation.”
She left the pit and headed to the booth.
“You can’t do this,” Gator said.
Chris moved in so close that he was toe-to-toe with Gator. “Saving Young is deadly important to me,” Chris said quietly. “How important is it to you?”
The veins in Gator’s neck bulged as if they were about to pop.
Chris prepared to flip his inner switch from chill to bone-burning conflagration.
“Your commanding officer will hear about this!”
Chris didn’t know whether Gator was smart for not fighting or cowardly for backing off. Maybe he was both. “I’m sure he will.”
Gator kicked a trash bucket across the room on his way out.
“Does anyone know where I can get a good bottle of wine ASAP?” Chris shouted out to the others in the gator pit.
A man in civilian clothes hesitantly raised his hand.
“I need it for the interrogation. How fast can you get it here?” Chris asked.
“Right away.” The man left his desk and rushed out of the room.
“If Mordet likes wine and my ear, I’ll give him what he wants.” Chris borrowed Hannah’s phone, called the surgeon, and asked for his ear in a small cooler.
He observed the monitor of the interrogation booth. Gator’s henchman cleared out the waterboarding equipment, handcuffed Mordet’s hands behind his back, chained his feet together, and sat him in a chair.
Minutes later, when the cooler and wine arrived, Chris left the gator pit. After the henchman stepped out of the booth, Chris stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and set his cooler down beside the door. Then he took a seat on the plastic chair in front of a table between himself and Mordet.
It’s time we have a little chat, my friend.
2
The booth, like other interrogation rooms, was kept cold to make the prisoner uncomfortable. Chris exhaled, purging any anger or anxiety from his system — neither would help him succeed in the interrogation.
Mordet gazed at the bandage on Chris’s ear. “I gather that we have already made each other’s acquaintance, but my doctorate is in philosophy, not medicine.”
Chris felt the same giant, dark hand pressing down on him that he’d experienced at Mordet’s estate. “You gather correctly, Professor.” Chris poured a glass of wine and gave him a sip.
After Mordet finished the sip, he licked his lips. “It seems that you know about me, but I do not know about you, other than the fact that you and your comrades were highly professional, and we left via the Euphrates River. No conventional military units would operate inside Syria. I can only guess that you are a Navy SEAL — probably from SEAL Team Six.” Mordet stared into Chris’s eyes as if he were probing Chris’s brain.
Chris showed no expression in his face or voice. “I can neither confirm nor deny—”
Mordet was equally cool. “No need — I have already confirmed it. Even so, I still do not know your name.”
Chris didn’t know how the interrogation would play out, but if he was patient, he might spot an opening and exploit it. “My name is Chris.”
Mordet’s eyes sparkled. “Do you have a last name, Chris?”
Chris continued without showing emotion. “Yes.”
Mordet took another drink. “Will you give it to me?”
“No.”
The sparkle in Mordet’s eyes faded. “That is not very sporting. You have come here to ask me where Young Park is, but you will not even tell me your last name.”
“Yes, I came here to ask where he is.” Chris gave him the rest of the drink.
He seemed pleased. “Why is he so important to you?”
Chris refilled Mordet’s glass. He had thought he was in control of the interrogation, but now he wasn’t sure. He gave Mordet a long drink.
“Is Park related to you?”
Chris said nothing.
“A friend?”
“Yes.”
Mordet stared at Chris’s eyes. “This rescue has more meaning to you than mere friendship. Maybe this is more about the rescue than about Young Park.”