“Thank you, sir.”
“I love the banner,” the doctor said.
“It was Brooke’s idea,” Bob noted.
“It’s from Thomas Jefferson’s speech to Congress in 1801 when he sent our naval armada on its first-ever mission of war across the seas to fight the Muslim Pirates. He told Congress their demands for money and their call to jihad had left America with ‘
“To sail over to Tripoli and kill them all, sir!” Chet said.
“Nice touch, Brooke.”
“It’s a shame no one will ever see it, sir.”
“Well, if this works, it will have all been worth it. Ready for the next stage?”
“Yes, sir. Achmed is already in position. Poor schlub, worked out for eight hours, didn’t shower, and cracked an egg into his hair. He smells and looks awful.”
The Sheik stirred and rolled over on the cot. He came awake and quickly scanned his surroundings. It was dark but not pitch. He was chained to his bed. His mouth was dry and his back ached from the springs in the cot. He lifted his head and saw a shape in the corner of the room. It was a man, naked to his briefs, a manacle around his ankle. He was not moving.
“Are you dead?” the Sheik asked the lump on the floor. There was no response. He lay back down.
The door opened. Two men in masks entered. One held a bowl of hummus with an ant crawling on top of it. “We have learned that your brothers, the scum who are holding his Excellency, are feeding him one bowl of this crap a day. So here’s yours. Choke on it, you son of a bitch.” He threw the bowl down on the cot.
“Who are you?” The Sheik hazarded to ask.
“We have been fighting your kind since America was born. We’ll show the American government that they can’t fight you guys like you were criminals — that the only way to beat you is to kill you, eliminate the infestation of our culture by your kind. We are not afraid to die to keep America pure of Islamic zealots like you.”
“You killed the FBI girl?”
“Many more than her in busting you out. In war, some die. They were going to make sure you lived a long comfortable life. The idiots. Then your people took our ambassador. That is as insulting as it gets. So we took you. Now what happens to him happens to you. What he eats you eat. When they beat him, we beat you.”
“You will kill me?”
“Why? Is that what your guys will do to the ambassador?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know your kind. If you have any information that will save him, it will also save you. Can you get that into your 7th century head, raghead?” He pushed two fingers into the Sheik’s temple with enough force to turn his head. It was the perfect glimpse of concealed rage and hatred he had rehearsed with Doctor Fusco.
“Who is that?” the Sheik said, gesturing toward the body on the floor.
“He is about to be beheaded. Unfortunately your friends in Afghanistan are just about to behead a captured marine. When that happens, we’ll mail his head to the Mosque in Istanbul. I think the word will start getting out that we hate you motherfuckers as much as you hate us.” He made a fist and pumped it in an aborted attempt to smash in the Sheik’s face, but he stopped himself, then leaned in. “I almost hope they torture the ambassador because I am going to enjoy ripping out the nerves running down your legs and arms with a long nose pliers.”
They left. Aliz started to tremble. He tried to control it, but could only do so for a few seconds before it became even worse. He grabbed the food and scooped it into his mouth with a shaking hand as his mind raced. Should he tell them of his brother? Of the plans they often spoke of if either was ever caught? Would his brother release the ambassador now that he was abducted and would suffer the same fate? Would his brother even see the video from the Infidels?
The lump on the floor moved.
Without a word, the lump prostrated himself and started morning prayers using a newspaper instead of a proper prayer mat. The Sheik didn’t interrupt, but quietly prayed along, offering it up to Allah as the best he could do while being chained to the cot.
When prayers were over, he spoke to the man who looked like he’d been there a long time, “What is your name?”
“Achmed; you?”
“Aliz. Why are you here?”
“Because I am Muslim. Because I believed that in this country you are free to worship.”
“Who are these men?”
“They are not government, of that I am sure.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Two weeks, three… I have lost count.”
“Do you know what they are doing?”
“Yes. They are holding me hostage because a marine is being held hostage in Afghanistan. Why are you here?”
“They are holding me because an ambassador was taken in Egypt.”
“That’s good. Good that these American bastards cannot just go anywhere in the world they want. They have to pay the price. Do you know where their precious ambassador is? Don’t tell me, but do you know?”
“Do you know where the marine is?”
“Ambar Province, I think,” Achmed whispered as to not be overheard.
“Then tell them. They may let you go.”
“Never. I would sooner die then help these pigs. What did you do?”
“I got shot.”
“Come on; what did you do?”
“I was in a motel room and a bullet came through the wall.”
“The bust at JFK! I heard of this. You, you are the Sheik? Oh, it is an honor to meet you, a real honor. Forgive my appearance but…
“No need. They beat you?”
“Yes, they say because the marine was beaten, but how would they know? They couldn’t know, could they, Sheik?”
Aliz sat there thinking of his own predicament.
“Sheik, I am scared. They are out to kill me. I’m scared.”
“If you die, you will die as Martyr. Do not be scared. Don’t let them get the satisfaction of scaring you.”
“I only fear dying before I see them crushed.”
“It will happen; Allah be praised.”
“It will, Sheik? How? How will they suffer?”
“It will be by…” Suddenly the Sheik realized the room could be monitored. He scanned around.
In the control room, Brooke and Fusco saw his change of demeanor and decided it was time for stage three. Brooke nodded to two men already donning their ski masks.
“What, Sheik? How will these American bastards be driven to hell?” Achmed’s body language became that of student at the master’s feet.
The Sheik stayed mum, looking for any sign of a monitoring device. Then the door opened and two men entered and went straight to Achmed.
“Bad news scumbag. Your buddies just beheaded the corporal. Smile, will ya, ‘cause we hope your mother is watching when we send this to Al Jazeera.”
Achmed started to scamper back and resist. Then his eyes caught the Sheik’s. Achmed suddenly cooled and defiantly exclaimed, “You sons of pigs can’t take me down.”
They unshackled him and dragged him out of the room, slamming the door just as a bright light went on. The Sheik strained to hear. A man was reading a death sentence. He heard Achmed’s low steady prayers. The man was now saying that real justice would be carried out for the injustice of the captors of Marine Corporal Lyndon Banks. Then he yelled, “Burn in hell!” The next sound was a peaking of Achmed’s prayer followed by a gurgling scream
