She glanced at the digital computer and the Mercedes claimed she had 62 miles until empty. She started the car and pulled it carefully out into traffic again. “Just get me to a sleepy, quiet town and I’ll dump you in the nearest creek.” She patted the dashboard. “Don’t fail me now you overpriced German piece of scrap.”
4
Southeastern Oklahoma
Bridger tried not to hover as Gregg worked the web. He would back away and pace quietly while Mauk slept in the threadbare chair in the corner. Every few moments he’d find himself staring over Gregg’s shoulder as the man typed in commands.
“That last login ID we had for the NSA isn’t working anymore.” He glanced to Bridger and shrugged. “I’m guessing they found the body.”
“Can you hack ‘em?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Gregg tsk’d him as he went back to work. “Just give me a moment to work my magic and…voila.” He spun the screen around to show off his handiwork. “I’m going to pull up everybody from the team.”
“Why not go through the CIA’s mainframe? It was their op.”
“Once everybody fell under Homeland, most of the CIA’s digital files were combined with the NSA’s and the FBI’s at the central hub.” Gregg typed commands and the printer began to hum as data was fed to it. “All archived files are maintained there now. They’re supposed to be more secure.”
Bridger sighed and pulled a chair from the dinette set. He sat down quietly and watched as Gregg rifled through ancient files. “A lot of that stuff is redacted.”
“Yeah, to the layman, but this is Sir Slippyfist you’re talking to.”
Bridger cringed and sat back in his chair. “Why did you keep that nickname anyway?” He shuddered and stared at the smaller man. “That’s pretty gross ya know?”
Gregg shrugged. “It fits.” He finished typing then hit the print screen button. “Besides, it worked didn’t it?”
Bridger had to admit, the tactic was effective. Even if it was a main reason for the military dropping the hammer on their intelligence groups and their tactics. He tried not to remember, but the scene was too grizzly not to see in his mind’s eye.
During a rather important interrogation, a certain detainee had been ratted out by the others. He was the key to the current operation they were trying to infiltrate and stop. The man had been made of stone. Everything they tried, from sodium pentathol to waterboarding, had been ineffective.
It was Gregg Soares who had reached his breaking point first. He walked into the interrogation room and locked the door behind him. He cranked the pulley up, bringing the man to his feet, then bent him over the chair he had been sitting in. With his hands cuffed and chained in front of him, he was literally bent over, his air nearly cut off as the back of the metal chair bit into his midsection.
Gregg rolled his sleeve up and walked slowly around the man, explaining what he was about to do. “You know, the human body is a pretty incredible fucking machine.” He paused and wiggled his fingers in front of the man’s face. “Funny thing is, men have this thing called a prostate. Massage that sucker just right and he pops a woody and starts shooting baby batter all over the place. I guess that’s why gays enjoy it so much.” He bent low to meet the man’s gaze. “Imagine how your friends out there in Jihadiland are going to love finding out just how big a queer you are when I slide my hand up your ass and film you shooting your load all over the room.”
The man’s eyes widened for just a moment before he spat at Gregg. “You cannot do this things. There are rules for you.”
Gregg actually laughed as he began to smear bacon grease up and down his arm. “I debated on going in dry, but you don’t have a pillow to bite.” He snatched the thin cotton breeches down around the man’s ankles then positioned himself accordingly. “Trust me, you’re going to like this a lot more than I will.”
“Fuck you!” The man shouted just a moment before Gregg plunged his hand into the man’s rectum. The shriek that echoed in the room sounded more like a scared girl than a grown man. Gregg planted a hand on the man’s lower back and clenched his teeth. “Ready to blow your load? Trust me, you’ll never go back to goats when I’m done with you.”
The man cursed at him in Arabic and Gregg did the nasty. He had to turn away as the man screamed and simultaneously ejaculated. “There ya go. Your friends are going to have a field day watching this video.”
Gregg continued to work his arm deeper into the man’s body cavity all the while screaming at him to tell him when and where the attack was going to be. The man continued to curse at him until Gregg was nearly elbow deep.
He’d finally reached the Jihadi’s breaking point and the man began crying and sobbing as he told him everything he wanted to know. Gregg slowly withdrew his arm and fought the urge to throw up as he held the arm away from him.
He used the man’s pants to wipe the grease and fecal matter from his skin. “I don’t think that’s gonna wash off…”
Gregg was summarily chastised and praised. He had gone beyond what any of the interrogators were willing to do, but the information was accurate and effective.
The name Slippyfist stuck.
“Okay Bridger. That’s everything in the archives on White Rock.”
Bridger snatched the papers from the printer and began scanning them. “Do your thing with the photos. See if you can track DJ or Lisa.”
“Already on it.”
“And while you’re at
