Free Black Skies by Leo J. Maloney

eyes remained fixed on the gun. “What—what do you want to ask me about?”
    “You were in the ambulance that took a man from the airport today after the attack,” said Harun. “Is that correct? Yes or no is enough.”
    “Yes,” he said.
    “Was the man one of the ones who took the American Secretary of State?” asked Harun.
    “Yes,” Nutkani stammered.
    “How did he die?”
    The man’s face seemed to sink. He must have expected the question, but there was obviously something there. He was terrified, and but he wasn’t looking at the gun anymore.
    “I, uh . . . he was wounded when we picked him up.” His voice was shaking. “He bled out in the ambulance. There was nothing we could do to save him.”
    “Do not lie to us,” Harun said. “If you lie to us again, we will kill you. Did the patient you were transporting die from the gunshot he took during the attack?”
    Tears welled up in Nutkani’s eyes. “Please. Please. Don’t make me talk.”
    “There is something to say, then?” asked Harun.
    “Please,” he said, crying, the pitch of his voice rising. “They will kill me. They will kill my parents. Please don’t make me talk.”
    “You won’t convince me to let you go,” said Harun. “The best chance you have now to survive is to tell us everything you know, and pray to Allah that we find the people who are threatening you before they come to kill you.”
    “Please,” he said.
    “My friend here?” said Harun, motioning with his head toward Conley. “The one who looks foreign? American. He’s CIA. Maybe I can give you to him, and we can see what you tell him. And then you spend the next twenty years in Guantanamo Bay, if you are lucky. Now, start talking. Did you kill the prisoner, Nutkani?”
    “I—I did not,” he said, still trying to hold back his tears. “I did not kill him myself.”
    “Tell me what happened,” Harun commanded him, his voice menacingly cold.
    “We were hailed by an official vehicle,” he said. “The driver pulled over and the back door was opened. I was ordered at gunpoint to get out of the ambulance and turn away. The driver, too. Afterward, they told us to get on our way and left. When I got back into the ambulance, the man was dead. Suffocated, I believe.”
    “Who did this?”
    “I do not know,” he said. “They were two men with handguns. They were dressed in suits. They looked like government types.”
    Conley shot Harun a glance, but the Pakistani did not look up from the man on the bed. “Can you describe them?”
    “I do not know. They looked normal. Clean-shaven. One had his hair slicked back.”
    “You’ll have to do better than that,” said Harun.
    “Please!” He cried, his hands linking in a supplicating gesture. “I do not know! It happened very quickly, and I could not see his face well! There is nothing more I can tell you!”
    Harun looked up at Conley, and Conley gestured toward the door
    “Do not tell anyone we were here,” said Harun. “We know where you live, and we will come back for you if you tell anyone.”
    Connor and Harun slinked out of the apartment and walked downstairs. Conley pulled the duct tape from the outer gate as they exited. They were halfway to the car when Conley spoke.
    “Now do you accept there are elements of your government involved?”
    “Bastards,” Harun said with pure hate. “Sons of a whore!”
    “We need to find whoever is behind this, or there could be war.”
    “I will find him and kill him,” Harun said. His pace picked up with the intensity in his voice.
    “Easy there,” said Conley. “Slow down. Whoever it is, we need to focus on finding the Secretary first. That’s our number-one priority. Things can still be salvaged if we find the Secretary alive. But if we don’t—”
    “We will find him,” said Harun. “We have a lead.”
    “Well, it’s not a lot to go on. All we have is two men—”
    “And a government car,” said Harun. “If we find the ambulance driver,