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to
shut the door behind him.
    “You’re John Frist?”
    The prisoner raised his head. “Here to torture
me?”
    Eric shook his head. He had seen the signs before.
Frist was definitely not okay. “You held up under some harsh interrogation,”
Eric offered. “It’s not your fault you broke.”
    Frist glared at him, silent.
    Eric continued., “We
broke Khalid Sheikh Mohammed. He wasn’t actually water-boarded. Just preparing
him was enough. He sang like a canary.”
    “What do you want?”
    “I’m here to offer you a way out.”
    The man finally blinked. “Out of what? I’m a
terrorist.”
    Eric sighed. “Yeah, you are. You killed over 500
innocent people. Children, even. The Red fucking Cross? Really, how do you see
yourself? As a hero?”
    “I’m no hero,” Frist said. “I just did what had to
be done. No one in this country understands sacrifice anymore. If people knew
what it really took to keep them safe, to protect the American way of life, the
freedoms—”
    “So you blew up the Red Cross?”
    Frist’s eyes widened. “It was the only way,” he
said.
    “You’re a little crazy, aren’t you?”
    “One man’s crazy is another man’s sanity.”
    Eric sighed. “That doesn’t even make sense. Look,
you were a good soldier, you had a rough time in Iraq. I get that. Then you
came home and blew up a building full of people because you missed your
parent’s funeral. Something got fucked up in your head and you blamed the Red
Cross. I’ve read the reports. Now you have an opportunity to give back some of
what you took when you killed those people. You should understand giving back
to your country.”
    “Go fuck yourself.” Frist rattled his cuffed
hands, tick-ticking the shackles against the concrete floor. “Start the torture
or shut up. Either way is fine with me.”
    “You never really leave the Army, John. You still
belong to the US government.” He removed the leather case from his pocket and
withdrew a syringe. “Either way, you’re going to volunteer. It’s your choice.”
    Frist finally showed concern. “Drugs? You think
you’ll get more information with drugs?”
    “Scared of needles?”
    First shook his head. “I’m not scared of anything.
Not anymore.”
    “Really? Because you look like you’re about to
jump out of your skin.”
    “Go ahead, drug me. It won’t make a difference.”
    Eric grabbed Frist’s arm, and jabbed the needle
in. “It will actually.”
    Frist struggled against the drugs, his eyes
rolling back. “Whu-zin-at?”
    “Something that will make a difference. A
difference in me having to listen to your mouth during the trip.”
    Frist collapsed on the floor, spittle dangling
from his mouth. He moaned and tried to roll over, but the shackles prevented
that. In moments, he was still.
    Someone rapped against the door to the cell, the
meaty thunk echoing in the enclosed space. “You ready?” Freeman called out.
    “Yes,” Eric said. “Bring it in.”
    They rolled in the gurney. Freemen helped unlock
the shackles and together they lifted the unconscious man from the floor. They
dumped him on the gurney, tightening the leather restraints, then used a pair
of handcuffs to secure the shackles to the metal frame. A sergeant helped wheel
the gurney out and load it in the back of a truck for transport back to the
hangar.
    “Afghanistan,” Freeman said suddenly. “That’s
where I know you from. You’re Steel-Jaw. I remember now.”
    Eric shrugged.
    “You were Delta,” Freeman said. “How’d you wind up
in the CIA?”
    “The same way anybody does.”
    “The CIA is better than Delta. Nicer digs, hot
coffee. Three squares.”
    “But you still wind up in some crummy shithole.
Like Cuba….”
    Freeman laughed. “Good luck with Frist. He
deserves what he gets.”
    Eric thought about that, then nodded his
agreement. “Yes, he does.”
    * * *
    They were flying over the heartland
when Nancy came back and plopped down in the chair across from him. Frist