Beirut Retaliation by John Cutter

Author:John Cutter [Cutter, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2015-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

10. Cockfight

The interrogation-room door opened, and Moshe emerged in a fog of cigarette smoke. Sullivan followed, clutching a cold cup of coffee. The two Beirut police officers — a lieutenant and a sergeant — remained inside with the prisoner. They’d been in there for three hours, ever since they’d brought Mehmet into central police headquarters.

“He is a tough fellow.” Moshe stretched his stiff back. “Religious fanatics are the hardest to break. What are my threats compared to the Wrath of God?”

Sullivan rubbed the back of his size-eighteen neck. “I’ve never known you to fail at an interrogation, Moshe. This bastard must be exceptional.”

“No, not exceptional at all.” Moshe scowled. “I could get him to talk if I could conduct the questioning my way, but as you see, the Beirut police keep a close eye on me. There was a time when I had the complete cooperation of the Lebanese authorities, but ever since the tragic massacres at Sabra and Chatila, for which the Israeli army was held responsible, all Israelis are watched carefully. They would never tolerate my methods of putting pressure on a prisoner. If I did, the police would immediately tell the press, who would create an international incident. And my country cannot afford any more embarrassment.”

“Damn!” Sullivan pressed his lips together in anger. “We know this guy is a Warrior of Islam. He even admits that Hassan the Red is his leader. But these stupid cops won’t let us break him.”

“Captain Shmuel.” The lieutenant poked his head out of the interrogation room. “Do you wish to question this man further? If not, we will take him downstairs and hold him, pending arraignment.”

“Let’s take him to his cell,” Moshe replied. “Sometimes the sight of prison bars loosens a man’s tongue.”

The tired-eyed sergeant and the hawk-nosed lieutenant led Mehmet into the hallway, keeping a firm grip on his arms even though he was handcuffed and shackled at the ankles — standard procedure for murderers in Lebanon. Mehmet scowled at Sullivan and Moshe with undisguised contempt. He would never cooperate with them, not a Jew and an American. Never. They were the enemies of Allah, the primary targets of the Jihad. Hassan was a flawed leader, but he was right about men like these. They were devils. As he was ushered away, Mehmet spit on Moshe’s lapel.

Moshe shook his head and pulled out a handkerchief. “If only I could have my way with him …”

Sullivan shouldered his way through the busy precinct, following Moshe down a rickety flight of wooden stairs to the holding cells. When the heavy steel door leading to the cells was unlocked, he heard Mehmet laughing scornfully. “You can imprison my body, but you will never imprison my soul.”

Sullivan reached out and grabbed Mehmet by the collar. He practically lifted the Warrior off his feet and shoved his fact between the bars of the nearest cell. “Very fucking profound, asshole,” he growled.

The policemen placed themselves between Sullivan and Mehmet, shouting for him not to interfere with their legal process.

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