Free Black Flagged Apex by Steven Konkoly Page B

leadership made a grave mistake trusting this group. Trusting anyone outside of Al Qaeda. Even the scientist who created the virus betrayed you."
    Farrington nodded at Klinkman, who ripped the tape away from Hassan's mouth.
    "Your brothers' plan for the virus in America is finished. All of them are dead. I can help you to avenge your brothers. I need to know the destinations for all of the shipments. I can account for twenty-eight of your shipments. Dr. Anatoly Reznikov assured us that there were fifty-eight."
    Hassan's eyes just barely betrayed his surprise at the mention of the total canister count. Petrovich caught this and winked at Farrington, who tore the tape from el-Masri's lips, followed by Hassan's.
    "I need an answer from you, Mr. Hassan. Will you help us? If you make this easy for us, I'll personally ensure that you get to meet the men that betrayed your brothers. I'll make sure that you are all sent to the same prison. You'll have the chance to avenge their deaths with your own hands. All of you. What do you think about this offer?" Hubner said.
    "Infidel pigs. You are lying through your teeth," Hassan spat.
    With Luke feeding him the information through his earpiece, Hubner recited the list of known FedEx shipment addresses for each of the terrorist cells in the tri-city New York area. El-Masri's eyes widened, and he spoke in rapid Arabic. He was instantly silenced by an order from Hassan, who barked at Hubner, "My brothers will not fail."
    "Hassan, they've already failed. I'm not making any of this up. We may only know seven of your brothers' addresses, but I think it's pretty clear that the rest are dead and probably rotting as we speak. The bodies recovered by the FBI will be given a proper Muslim burial. You should honor the rest of your brothers with this courtesy," Klinkman said, in a calm, friendly tone.
    "Your people will rape their corpses and defile them. This is what my brothers can expect in America."
    Klinkman stepped forward within a few feet of the seated men and brought himself to one knee. He stared at el-Masri and spoke in the same soft tone. "Last chance, gentlemen. If you don't cooperate, you will be tortured, killed and desecrated in a manner that will prevent you from entering paradise. You will be cremated and your ashes will be mixed with hot pig lard to coagulate and sit in a jar until reheated and served to the next group of Jihadis that we catch. I have a funeral home waiting for your bodies as we speak."
    "Nothing can prevent us from entering paradise. We are pure," el-Masri said.
    "You don't sound convinced," Hubner hissed.
    "Do it," Farrington said.
    Everyone moved at once. Petrovich raised his silenced pistol and shot Akhnaten once in each shoulder. The man screamed, but the duct tape turned the sound into a muffled, high-pitched moan. Hubner flicked open a four-inch serrated blade, which had been concealed in his right hand. He pounced on el-Masri as Klinkman yanked the man's hair down from behind, causing him to scream in agony and buck in his chair. Hubner braced el-Masri's head and started to cut off his left ear.
    Hassan growled and tried to stand with the chair, but Farrington pistol-whipped him across the temple, collapsing him back into the chair. Hassan turned to look at Akhnaten, who was struggling wildly. He watched Petrovich fire a third bullet between Akhnaten's eyes, spraying the gray wall and flimsy window curtain with a mosaic of bright red clumps.
    **
    Luke couldn't believe his eyes. Everyone in the van turned away from the screen, but the screams echoed through the van, providing a grim reminder of the work they ultimately supported on behalf of General Sanderson. When he finally decided to look back, the view provided by the hijacked computer webcam had been partially obscured by what he could only assume was splatter from Akhnaten's head.
    "Turn the volume down at least," Luke said. "Focus on your jobs."
    He turned around to keep a close eye on his own laptop