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“Yeah, well, if twenty-one of our boys had just been greased two days ago we’d be pretty nervous, too.”
“Good point.”
“The dog have a camera?”
“Yep . . . handler’s looking at that, as well as the brains back at JSOC. When the big brains give us the go-ahead the bomb guys are going to send in their robot.”
Rapp asked, “How long is that going to take?”
“Twenty to thirty minutes.”
Rapp frowned. “I don’t want to wait that long.” He looked over at Zahir. “I’ve got a better idea.”
After the dog came back out they asked the handler if he had seen anything unusual. Other than the two dead bodies in the basement, everything looked pretty normal. While the bomb techs unpacked their equipment, Rapp told Hayek to stay put and approached Zahir with Coleman. “Commander, you and your men didn’t happen to find any booby traps while you were in there?”
Zahir was very unhappy that the Americans were playing this game with him. He shook his head and refused to speak.
“Good,” Rapp said, “so you’re willing to go back in with us and show us what you’ve found.”
Zahir nodded, waved for them to follow, and then marched past his men and into the house.
“You sure about this?” Coleman asked.
Rapp figured he could spend the rest of his life worrying that there was a bomb around every corner or he could get back on this horse. “You read the report on Zahir. Suicide isn’t his deal. Too narcissistic. If he’s willing to walk in there, we’re safe.”
“I hope you’re right.” Coleman looked over his shoulder, “Chief, we’re going in. When JSOC starts freaking out, tell them Mr. Cox made the call.” Having served in the military, Coleman didn’t want the guy getting reamed for something that wasn’t his fault. As he started walking, he called back, “You can still send in the robot if you want.”
Zahir led them through the first floor.
“Anything worth seeing up here?” Rapp asked as they reached the stairwell.
“I’m sure you’re going to want to take this house apart piece by piece, but I didn’t see much.” Pointing down the staircase, Zahir said, “The important stuff is down there.”
Rapp had Zahir go first and followed him down the steps with his M-4 rifle pointed at Zahir’s back. Halfway down the stairs the stench hit them. Zahir pulled out a handkerchief and covered his mouth. At the bottom of the stairs was a table with a computer monitor, keyboard, and mouse. Zahir led them through the open door and the stench became almost unbearable. Rapp and Coleman were both covering their noses with gloved hands as they looked around the rectangular room.
The first thing Rapp noticed were the two bodies on the floor. They looked like the men in the video. The sheets were covering the walls, and attached to one of the floor joists was a metal hook with a length of knotted rope.
“This one here,” Zahir pointed at the larger of the two men, “is Shahrukh Ahmad Wazir. He’s Taliban.”
“You’re sure?” Rapp asked.
“Yes.”
“And the other one?”
“I have no idea, but we will find out. Very likely he is Taliban as well.”
“God, it stinks down here,” Rapp said. “What is that smell? These guys don’t look like they’ve been dead long enough to smell like this.”
Zahir pointed at a puddle between the two bodies and a little closer to where they were standing. It was a rusty brown mixture. “That is blood and I think feces and I’m sure urine as well.” Zahir had seen many men shit themselves when interrogated, but he didn’t think now was a good time to offer this knowledge.
“What was the big one’s name, again?” Coleman asked. He had his phone out and was about to send the name back to the Intel Fusion Center. Zahir spelled it for him and Coleman sent the message. If Zahir knew who he was, it was likely the name would pop up in one of their databases.
Rapp stepped around the putrid liquid to get a better look at the two men. They both had bruised knuckles and their hands were swollen. Just beyond the bodies were two rubber hoses, more evidence that this was the place where Rickman had been interrogated. He counted no fewer than four bullet holes in each man. The image of the dead bodyguards lined up in the safe house came back to him. This murder scene couldn’t have been more different. “Look at this,” Rapp said to Coleman. “Remember Rick’s four guys, each one with a single bullet hole.”
“Yeah,” Coleman said, “this was done by someone who was pissed off.” He turned around and looked at the other two walls. As far as he could tell they didn’t have any pockmarks from bullets. This wasn’t a gunfight, it was an execution.
Rapp noticed the video camera and tripod knocked over on the floor. They needed Hayek down here. Rapp reached up and grabbed the lip mike from the side of his helmet. He swung it down and hit the two-way button on his Motorola radio. “Sid, this is Harry, over.”