Warren Murphy - New Destroyer 03 by Dead Reckoning # & James Mullaney

Author:Dead Reckoning # & James Mullaney [#, Dead Reckoning & Mullaney, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-06-08T19:40:15+00:00

13

On orders of their leader Alawi Sulayam, the Iranians of the Elite Incursion Martyrdom Brigade 2 drove to a seedy motel on the outskirts of town.

Alawi had rented the room before going to collect Mustafa at Bill’s Diner. One of his men who had been a mall security guard in nearby St. Louis had confirmed the motel as an ideal al-Khobar safe house. The motel had been family-owned for decades and was managed by a derelict son who was interested in gambling and drink and supremely uninterested in whatever his customers were up to in his rooms.

The Martyrdom Brigade had taken the last room in the strip motel, around the corner from the office, near the Dumpster and the broken ice machine. When the car stopped amid the potholes of the parking space in front of the warped motel door, Mustafa Mohammed lunged for the car door.

“Quiet him,” Sulayam commanded.

Mustafa was stilled by a revolver butt to the temple.

The men carried the unconscious twentieth hijacker inside.

Mustafa was awakened from his untroubled slumber minutes later by several sharp slaps to his cheek. He found himself staring groggily into the cold eyes of Alawi Su

“layam.

Alawi crouched so that the two men were at eye level. Mustafa realized that they had sat him in a chair. When he tried to move his hands and feet he could not. Clothesline bound him in place.

“Are you awake?” Alawi asked. “It is important that you be awake for this. Are you? Good.”

The Iranian stood.

“The West is weak,” Alawi said as he stripped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “That has become a mantra for us in this holy war. So much so that I wonder sometimes if the truth of it is forgotten on both sides. They have had great successes against us. It is an undeniable fact that in these past several years we have bled much more than they. But in the end we will be victorious. Take, for example, their view of torture. They shut the lights off and leave prisoners in darkness for just a few days and it is condemned in their major newspapers. They dunk the heads of prisoners under water—men with information that would save American lives—and their own senators decry the practice.”

Alawi Sulayam leaned forward, bringing his nose to Mustafa’s. “We have, my friend, much more effective methods to extract information. They take far less time, they are far more successful, and they do not end up being criticized in our newspapers or by our politicians.”

Alawi started simple. A pair of pliers was produced to pull out Mustafa’s fingernails and toenails. The giant bodyguard stood in the corner of the room and watched gleefully as Alawi first harvested fingernails. He clapped happy hands which were as big as throw pillows and laughed loudly as each bloody nail was ripped loose.

A rubber ball was stuffed in Mustafa’s mouth, tied in place with a pillowcase. Each time a nail was removed and the muffled screaming stopped, the gag was removed and Alawi asked Mustafa the same question.

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