Free Extreme Measures by Vince Flynn Page B

believe him,
he thought to himself.
Tell him the other two cells had been debriefed and hadn’t said a word about a third cell.
That was a lie, of course. They had, and there was other disturbing stuff floating around out there, murmurs on the World Wide Web that something big was coming. Nash believed al-Haq, but for now he would make him think the deal was in jeopardy.
    Nash checked his watch again and took a couple of deep breaths to try and ease off the natural high he was on. He yanked open the office door, set his jaw in a more grim position, and started down the hallway. As he stepped into the big observation room, he found himself staring at the backs of a group of men who were not supposed to be there. Up on one of the screens Rapp was yelling at a couple of MPs.
    Nash turned nervously to his right and found Marcus Dumond, the young CIA hacker, looking like he was about to crawl under the desk.
    Just then he heard General Garrison, the base commander, growl, “Did he just say Secretary of Defense England?”
    “He did, sir,” the younger officer next to him replied.
    “You’d better be right about this, Leland. If that man isn’t CIA and you get me in hot water with the secretary of defense, you are going to be shoveling shit for the rest of your tour.”
    Nash felt his stomach turn, and thought to himself,
These guys could screw this thing up real quick. How in the hell are we going to talk our way out of this?
The very next thing he thought of was damage control. Dumond had been recording the sessions. The last thing they needed to do was hand over proof of their crimes.
    Everyone else in the room was so intent on the TV showing the interrogation room that Nash saw an opportunity. He looked down at Dumond, pointed at his small external drive, and then jerked his head toward the hallway behind him. Dumond nodded, grabbed the drive, and quietly stood. As he passed by Nash, the general must have noticed the movement, because he began to turn around. Nash stepped forward quickly to block the general’s view and distract him.
    In a booming voice Nash announced, “What in the hell is going on here?”

CHAPTER 14
    O NCE the MPs were gone and the door was closed, Rapp turned and looked at his prisoner. What he saw pissed him off to the point of wanting to drive his fist through Haggani’s face – shove the cartilage behind his nose up into his brain and kill the bastard right on the spot. He felt the camera on his back, though, and knew he was already in enough trouble. Choking the man… he might be able to talk his way out of. Killing him… not a chance. He thought of Nash and Dumond.
What was going on out there?
Had Dumond been quick enough to erase his interrogation of Haggani and smart enough to save Nash’s with al-Haq, and just what in the hell was the base commander doing up and about? The guy was supposed to be an anal-retentive freak about his sleep.
    “What is wrong?” Haggani asked in a mocking tone. “Are you in trouble?”
    Rapp glanced at him for only a second. Just long enough to register the smug look on his face. He clenched his fists and told himself not to do it. He walked to the far side of the room, where one of his men, Joe Maslick, was leaning against the wall. Maslick was an inch taller than Rapp and tipped the scales at 220 pounds. He was too big for most undercover operations, but perfect for something like this, where intimidation and presence were more important. Rapp knew how sensitive the room’s recording devices were, and since he had no idea if Dumond had turned them off, he decided to be extra careful. He pointed back at the prisoner and then cupped both hands over Maslick’s left ear.
    In a voice barely louder than a whisper, Rapp said, “I’m going out first. If I can talk our way out of this, great, but if I can’t, and you see me get up in that general’s face, I want you to get our people out of here. Grab Dostum, get back to the plane, and get the hell off this