Eighteen Wheel Avenger. William W. Johnstone
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All things taken into consideration, it was really quite unpleasant for the Iranian terrorist. But he talked. After one ankle was crushed under the tires of the big rig, and after he was brought back to consciousness, he began talking so fast it was difficult for Barry and Cutter to keep up. But Cutter’s cassette/recorder got it all. She also committed it to memory and jotted down telephone numbers, knowing she would have to turn the tape over to her team leader.
While Cutter was taping the Iranian’s statements, Barry turned his attention to the red-haired, freckle-faced man, who had remained impassive during the Iranian’s painful incentive toward talking.
Now he said, “Unconstitutional, illegal, barbaric, and quite un-American.”
“You’re breaking my heart,” Barry told him. “I’m almost overcome with emotion. I want the location of your safe houses and the leaders of cells within the United States.”
“You must be mad!”
“Actually, no.”
The face of the terrorist was sweat-shiny and his eyes were dulled from the pain of the wounds in his legs. “I demand to see a doctor. That is my constitutional right under American law.”
“All right,” Barry told him. “Give me the name of the nearest doctor sympathetic to your so-called cause, and we’ll get you to him, or her, promptly.”
“You are a rotten son of a bitch!” the terrorist cursed him.
“You’re the one lying on the ground bleeding and hurting, not me,” Barry reminded him.
The wounded terrorist again cursed Barry.
“Drag that other one over here,” Barry told Mustard. He turned to Cutter. “You familiar with this kid-looking punk?”
She nodded her head. “Darin Grady. He’s the one responsible for blowing up that department store in England. The blast that killed all those civilians.”
Barry squatted down beside the young man. “O’Grady, is it now, my boy?”
Darin spat at Barry, the spittle plopping in the sand by Barry’s boot.
Barry cut his eyes to Smooth. “You check his wounds?”
“He’s not bad hurt. Probably not as bad as he’s gonna be hurt,” he added.
“I find your actions very reprehensible,” Darin said. “And I demand prompt medical attention and legal representation.”
Barry laughed at him. “When a leprechaun appears on my shoulder, punk. I want information, and I want it quickly.”
“Or you’ll torture me?”
“If I have to.”
“Then you’re no better than you claim us to be.”
“Wrong. I don’t plant bombs that kill indiscriminately.” Barry stood up and kicked the man in the mouth.
Cutter winced as teeth bounced across the sand and Darin Grady screamed in pain.
The other drivers had walked away at a wave of Barry’s hand.
Barry had reached toward the folding knife encased in leather on his belt when the sound of helicopters stopped his hand.
“They’re ours,” Cutter announced.
The choppers settled down, kicking up dirt and sand. Jackson ran to the scene. He paused at the front of Barry’s truck, paling at the sight of blood and bits of bone and guts clinging to the grill and bumper.
The Air Force Special Operations team quickly assessed the scene and stayed back, their faces impassive.
Jackson knelt down beside the moaning Iranian and spoke with him briefly. He rose to his feet and faced Barry, anger in his eyes.
“You fucked up, Dog! You realize that with what you’ve done, we can never take any of these people into an open court of law.”
“So what?” Barry stood his ground. He pointed to the nearly unconscious Iranian. “That one spilled his guts. Cutter has it on tape.” He pointed to Darin. “And I was just about to get some information out of this one.”
“I protest!” Darin cried. “I demand to see a doctor and be treated as a prisoner of war under the terms of the Geneva Convention.”
Blood was leaking out of his ruined mouth.
“Shut up, asshole!” Barry told him. “The Geneva Convention doesn’t apply to terrorists.”
“That’s it, Dog!” Jackson’s voice was sharp. “I take it from this point.”
Barry walked to him. “Jackson, you’re gonna screw it all up. I told you to keep the legal shit out of this operation.”
“Damn it, Barry.” He pointed to the terrorist with the crushed and mangled ankle. “That’s an Iranian diplomat. I don’t know how in the hell we’re going to handle this situation.”
“I do. Put him back in that car and burn it. He had an accident. End of report. Let the Iranians protest all they want. It won’t do them any good. And leave Darin Grady to me.”
Jackson looked to Cutter for support. He didn’t get it. She met his eyes with a bleak stare.
He looked at the Special Operations team. One of them was eating a candy bar.
“I missed breakfast,” he explained.
“Get these people loaded up in the helicopters,” Jackson ordered. “We’ve got to get them medical attention.”
“You’re making a mistake, Jackson,” Barry told him.
“I made a mistake by agreeing with the President to allow a person like you to even exist.”
“Jackson?”
“What, Dog?”
“I always suspected you were a bleeding liberal at heart.”
The Treasury man flushed. “No, Barry. I’m just a man who believes in operating within the boundaries of human decency and within the framework of the law.”
“And that is exactly the reason why we are going to eventually lose the fight with terrorism.”
“Deliver your load, Dog. I’ll be in touch.”
“What do you figure the odds are of them hitting us again this trip?” Barry asked Cutter.
“Personally, I don’t think they’ll risk it. But as I’ve said before, you never can figure a terrorist group. They’ll do the unexpected. But one thing is for sure: we’re on the top of their hit list now.”
“Jackson is going to blow it,” Barry predicted.
“I’m afraid you’re right. But you have to understand his position, Barry: he’s got to go the legal route. He had absolutely no choice in the matter.”
“From now on, Jackson does not figure in anything we do, Cutter. He’s out of the picture.”
They rode on for a few miles in silence, Barry at the wheel. Tucumcari was a few miles behind them, the Texas border just ahead.
Cutter broke the silence of the road. “I am absolutely baffled as to how Jackson thinks he’s going to keep this out of the press.”
“By making a deal with the Iranian government.”
“With Khomeini? Jesus! You don’t make deals with that nut.”
“He’s going to try. And fail.”
“And the press is going to blow it wide open.”
“Yep.”
She shook her head. “I will never understand why this government ever allowed Khomeini to come to power.”