MARTYR'S SQUARE
Hurley had lost track of time. After the fingernail incident, they'd left him alone. Turned off the light and shut the door. He sat in the chair, his arms duct-taped to the armrests and his ankles to the two front legs. His chest and shoulders were also taped to the chair back. Big loops of silver tape, as if he were a mummy. For the first few hours he tried to catalogue everything he'd seen, said, and heard.
He let his chin rest on his chest and went to sleep. He awoke some time later. It could have been an hour, three hours, or half a day, and what did it really matter? The stink in the room was horrendous, but it was far better than the hood.
He awoke later to the sounds of a men screaming. He knew instantly the screams belonged to Richard and Rupert. What they were doing to him, Hurley could only imagine. The screams came and went, rising and falling like waves crashing into the rocks. And then Hurley could tell by the steady rhythm what they were doing. They were electrocuting him and they weren't bothering to ask questions. They were just trying to wear him down. Listening to the pain of his own men was the most difficult thing of all.
Hurley bowed his head again and asked God for the strength to kill these men. It went like this for four or five cycles. He tried not to obsess over the time. When he was awake, he tried to prepare himself for what would come next.
He then heard a feminine scream.
He raised an eyebrow in confusion. He didn't know that Sayyed wouldn't even spare women.
Poor woman, he thought.
Two men entered, plugged in the cord for the light, and there in the doorway were bloodied and battered Richard and Rupert. Their wrists were bound in front of them with duct tape. The red marks on their chest confirmed what they had been doing, although it wasn't all. Richard's and Rupert's face was beaten and swollen.
Their right eyes were completely shut.
Sayyed entered the room, a man following him with two chairs similar to the one Hurley was in.
He muttered something but Hurley heard a word very clearly; Aayat.
Hurley was surprised. Sayyed had his foster daughter chained up and made her a prisoner as well.
And the only reason why he would do that was because he found out about Aayat and Mitch.
So the punk was right after all, Hurley thought.
His girlfriend had remained loyal and helped him.
Sayyed showed the man where to place chairs and said to Hurley, "How are you feeling today?"
"Great!" Hurley said with enthusiasm. "You guys really do a nice job of making people feel comfortable."
"Yes." Sayyed smiled. "I'm sure you would show us the same hospitality if we were in your country."
"Slightly better," Hurley said, flashing the new gap in his teeth. "You know how competitive we Americans are. We didn't put a man on the moon by making our women walk around in sheets all day and blowing ourselves up."
"We all know that was faked."
"Sure it was," Hurley said agreeably as they placed Richard and Rupert in the other chairs. One of the men produced a knife so he could cut their duct tapes.
Sayyed ordered the men to finish taping Richard's and Rupert's wrists to the chair. When they were finished he told them they could wait outside.
Hurley smiled at them and said "Did you order your men to torture your foster daughter now?"
Doctrine told Sayyed he should ignore the comment, but he felt that he needed to say something. "You are a very interesting man, Mr. Sherman."
"Why do you say that, Colonel?"
"It is so obvious. Do I really have to say it?"
"Well, unless I've learned how to read minds since we last saw each other, I suggest you spit it out."
"You Americans couldn't capture the Islamic Jihad through violence so you decided to use another strategy. I must say it was quiet unusual. You almost got to us."
Hurley screwed on a confused look "What do you mean Colonel?"
Sayyed laughed at him. "Oh so now you are going to play dumb. You really want me to say it out loud. Well I'm talking about how you sent your young agent, umm what was his name again?" Sayyed rubbed his forehead pretending to think before continuing "ahh yes Mitch Rapp"
Hurley' eyes widened, he did not know that Sayyed knew Rapp's identity.
Well of course he did. There has to be some downfall in having a relationship with a freakin terrorist.
Sayyed continued "so Agent Rapp pretends to fall in love with my daughter. You know brainwash her and in the end successfully gaining her trust and bringing her to the Americans side."
Hurley turned away "That was not what we wanted." He then looked at Sayyed "We are not cowards. We don't use such ridiculous strategies to capture our enemies"
Sayyed snorted "So you are telling me that their supposedly love is real"
Hurley didn't reply this time.
Sayyed decided it was time to take charge again. He wheeled his little cart over and checked his instruments. He said, "Your friend, Mr. Richard, was kind enough to give us his name."
"Never heard of him."
"Yes ... well, let's see if we can jog your memory. This is what we are going to do." Sayyed picked up the tin snips and said, "I will ask you a question. If you refuse to answer or lie I will cut off one of his fingers."
Rupert had a terrifying look on his face and silently gulped at the scene in front of him.
"Cool." Hurley straightened up as much as the tape would allow. "I'd like to see you cut one off right now. Go ahead ... let's get started."
"Mr. Sherman, what is your real name?"
"Come on, cut his finger off. Cut his wrist off ... that would be really awesome."
Richard was awake now, a panicked look in his eyes. "What the hell?"
Sayyed said, "He has already told us your name, but I want to hear you say it."
"Fine ... William Tecumseh Sherman. Are you happy now? Can we go home?"
"No. That is not the name he gave us."
"I think I'd know my own name."
"Last chance." Sayyed placed the tin snips around the first knuckle on Richards's left hand.
"William Tecumseh Sherman."
"Wrong answer." Sayyed pushed the two red handles together and there was a quick snip and the pinky fell to the dirty floor. Richards started screaming, and Sayyed quickly moved the snips over to Hurley's pinky. "Your turn," he yelled. "Name?"
Hurley had already turned his head away, as if he couldn't bear to watch what was going on. He started to move his lips and mumbled a name.
"Louder ... I can't hear you."
Hurley slowly turned his head, made eye contact with Sayyed, and then looked down at his pinky. The distance was about right. He pretended he was starting to cry while again mumbling, and when Sayyed moved just a touch closer, offering up his good ear so he could hear better, Hurley kicked Sayyed in the groin with his knees and he did that with so much force that Sayyed fell back and screamed.
Sayyed looked up and saw a grinning Hurley on the chair.