Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
P at watched from the surveillance van parked outside. No one had questioned his decision to be part of the operational team. With Viper in Colombia, they needed all hands on deck.
So Jasmine had been telling the truth about Amir’s panic attacks. So much for the psychopath theory. The monster was human after all.
Al-Jabiri had appeared extremely agitated. Pat recognized real fear when he saw it, and that man had been terrified.
Good. The bastard deserved every second of it.
Still, he hadn’t liked it when Jasmine had taken his hand. What the hell was she doing? Was she developing feelings for him? He’d seen it before. Victims bonding with their captors. It was called Stockholm syndrome.
If that was the case, everything she’d told him was worthless. When the time came, would she betray Al-Jabiri? Or would she betray Pat and his entire operation?
He stretched his neck to get rid of the tension.
“Well, that was something.” Phoenix ran a hand through his hair. “I just thank my lucky stars I didn’t come out of service with PTSD. It’s a hell of a thing.”
It sure was.
“I hope it eats him alive,” Pat spat.
Phoenix shot him a look. “You sure your girl’s gonna deliver?”
No, he wasn’t. Not anymore.
“I fucking hope so,” he muttered. “She’s our best lead. She’s right in his camp. If anyone can find out what he’s up to, it’s her.”
Phoenix didn’t look convinced either. “I hope you’re right, boss.”
“Buzzard has left the property,” Pat relayed into his earpiece.
“Copy that,” Anna responded.
Riad had stormed out of the house, taking off down the road. Cole was tailing him on foot.
“Why don’t you head home,” Pat told Phoenix. “I can handle the night shift.”
“You sure? It’s not even four yet.”
“Yeah. You’ve been here long enough. Go see that beautiful wife of yours.”
Phoenix smirked. “That would be great. She’s about to head off again soon.” Phoenix had met Ellie, his wife, on an oil rig off the Gulf, and Pat knew she traveled a lot for work.
“All the more reason to go home while you can.”
Phoenix clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, boss.”
Pat was glad for the quiet. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, and if he was honest, he wanted to watch Jasmine without distractions.
They were still sitting on the couch, her and Al-Jabiri. The terrorist seemed tense, his hands balled into fists. It was clear he was struggling with the aftereffects of his panic attack.
Jasmine was talking to him, and he wondered what she was saying.
Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Al-Jabiri’s eyes darted toward her, uneasy.
Pat scoffed. The infamous Falcon, reduced to a shaking wreck.
Jasmine was nodding now. She seemed to be encouraging him to talk.
Pat pursed his lips, then got on the comms to Anna. “Hey, can you get that lip reader to translate this?”
He had a feeling it was important.
“Yeah, I’ll send it through to her now,” came the reply.
Pat sat back and watched. Al-Jabiri was grinding his teeth, clearly disturbed. His hands were tightly clenched in his lap.
He was talking though, and slowly, he began to relax.
Every now and then, Jasmine nodded and asked a question, gently probing. Eventually, Al-Jabiri got up, gave a brief nod, and walked out of the room.
Jasmine sat there, unmoving, for a long time. Then, she took a deep breath, got to her feet, and followed him out.
Pat leaned back in his seat. He didn’t know what the hell to make of her.
“I’ve got the translation,” Anna said, coming back on. “Sending it to your phone now.”
“Thanks, Anna.”
Alone in the van, Pat read the transcript.
Tell me how you felt when the missile struck.
Terrified. The explosion was deafening. The heat burned my face. I screamed for my mother, but she didn’t hear me.
Where was she?
She’d gone into the house to get my brother. My father ran in after her. They were all killed.
Pat sat upright. Jesus, he almost felt sorry for the bastard.
What went through your mind when you realized they were gone?
Nothing at first. I was in shock.
And afterwards?
I was scared. Alone. I knew they weren’t coming back. I had no one.
Did you cry?
I don’t remember.
Where did you go?
A neighbor took me in.
You went to live with them?
Yes, but they didn’t want me. I never left my room.
Amir, you were a child who’d lost everything. You were confused. Grieving. It’s understandable you withdrew.
Pat scowled. Did she have to be so damn understanding?
The next part wasn’t clear, signified by a dotted line in the transcript.
Jasmine had said:
It wasn’t your fault. It was a terrible tragedy, but you were not to blame.
Pat gritted his teeth. Why was she being so goddamned nice to him? The man was a terrorist. He might have had a traumatic experience, but that didn’t change what he’d become.
I couldn’t stay there, so I ran away.
Pat arched an eyebrow.
Where did you go?
To the mosque. That’s when I found Allah.
Tell me about that.
There was this Imam. He taught me the Quran. He gave me a purpose.
Pat shook his head.
He radicalized you.
He took a scared, lost kid and brainwashed him into one of the world’s most wanted terrorists. Great fucking job.
The transcript ended there.
For a long time, Pat sat in the darkened van, staring at the house, knowing Jasmine was in there against her will. She’d done a great job with Al-Jabiri, calming him down, getting him to open up.
She was good, very good. No wonder the Falcon felt an affinity towards her. She was his confidante, one of the few people who knew his darkest secrets.
He only hoped she hadn’t crossed over and wasn’t developing feelings for her captor. Because that really would fuck everything up.