said softly.
“Yes, I don’t have time for this shit. Past time for some action.” He stepped through the door and cleared his throat. Both men near the bed looked at him. Tauksaun shook his head when he saw the weapon.
George didn’t hesitate. He pulled the forty-five’s slide back and let it snap forward, slamming a round into the firing chamber. He carried the pistol low as he walked up to the Iranian.
“Tell him the bullshit is over. Do it, Tauksaun.”
The huge man tried to roll to one side a little to ease the pressure on his hips. He sighed, then stuttered out some Farsi.
George brought the forty-five up to aim at the lens grinder’s chest.
“Now, tell him I want to know exactly where he was taken to do the grinding work on the polished steel. Exactly. None of this blindfolded crap.”
George waited as the translation came. Then he put the pistol’s muzzle against the lens grinder’s chest, directly over his heart.
The Iranian was thin, small, with a full dark beard and bushy brows. He slumped back toward the bed and George moved with him, increasing the pressure of the forty-five. The Iranian looked up with black eyes that showed stark fear.
He chattered once, and paused, then came out with a flood of Farsi.
George waited.
Tauksaun nodded. “He says he knows they went to the southern port city of Chah Bahar. From there they drove north by truck into the mountains on a good gravel road. He says they never got all the way through the mountains into the great plain. So the spot must be in the mountains.”
“Could he find the place again?” George asked.
When the Iranian heard the translation, he looked at George and shook his head.
The translation came that they had been kept in covered trucks all the way from the port. He only knew they went north. They did not go into Pakistan.
The questioning went on.
The man had no idea what kind of project he had worked on. He was grinding some kind of metal. He never saw a finished product. He and ten others had worked around the clock on twelve-hour shifts.
Yes, they had completed the project and then were sent home. Yes, they each received wages, and a bonus of 210,000 rials. That would be about seventy dollars, not a lot of money for a lens grinder.
“That’s all he knows, CIA agent,” Tauksaun said. “I don’t appreciate your use of the weapon in my house. It wasn’t needed.”
“It worked, nobody got hurt.”
“So far,” Tauksaun said. He spoke with the lens grinder for a few moments, then Tiny came. They put a blindfold around the small man’s eyes, and Tiny led him out the front door.
It would take Tiny a half hour to get the man out of the area and safely away. Tauksaun didn’t talk to George. He tried to find some American music on his short-band radio. He got mostly static, then located an American station on one of the Air Force bases in Germany. The music came through loud and clear.
The Andrews sisters had just finished a golden oldie, when Tiny came in. She closed the door, then tried to turn, but staggered a step before she fell to the floor. George went down beside her and held her head.
Her eyes rolled for a moment, then steadied in place.
Blood seeped from her mouth.
“Police,” she whispered in English, then passed out. George carried her to a pallet beside the floor bed and stretched her out. He had tears in his eyes. Yasmeen knelt beside Tiny on the pallet, making a quick examination.
“She’s been shot in the chest,” Yasmeen said. “Probably hit one lung, and for sure lots of internal bleeding. If she doesn’t get to a hospital, she’ll die.”
“No hospital,” Tauksaun said. “The police would recognize her and let her die there. Tiny isn’t exactly unknown to the authorities. This is all on your head, CIA man.”
He stared at Tiny for a moment and blinked rapidly. He nodded to himself, and then used the telephone. He spoke quickly in English and Farsi, then hung up.
“A friend, a nurse, will
“Yes, I don’t have time for this shit. Past time for some action.” He stepped through the door and cleared his throat. Both men near the bed looked at him. Tauksaun shook his head when he saw the weapon.
George didn’t hesitate. He pulled the forty-five’s slide back and let it snap forward, slamming a round into the firing chamber. He carried the pistol low as he walked up to the Iranian.
“Tell him the bullshit is over. Do it, Tauksaun.”
The huge man tried to roll to one side a little to ease the pressure on his hips. He sighed, then stuttered out some Farsi.
George brought the forty-five up to aim at the lens grinder’s chest.
“Now, tell him I want to know exactly where he was taken to do the grinding work on the polished steel. Exactly. None of this blindfolded crap.”
George waited as the translation came. Then he put the pistol’s muzzle against the lens grinder’s chest, directly over his heart.
The Iranian was thin, small, with a full dark beard and bushy brows. He slumped back toward the bed and George moved with him, increasing the pressure of the forty-five. The Iranian looked up with black eyes that showed stark fear.
He chattered once, and paused, then came out with a flood of Farsi.
George waited.
Tauksaun nodded. “He says he knows they went to the southern port city of Chah Bahar. From there they drove north by truck into the mountains on a good gravel road. He says they never got all the way through the mountains into the great plain. So the spot must be in the mountains.”
“Could he find the place again?” George asked.
When the Iranian heard the translation, he looked at George and shook his head.
The translation came that they had been kept in covered trucks all the way from the port. He only knew they went north. They did not go into Pakistan.
The questioning went on.
The man had no idea what kind of project he had worked on. He was grinding some kind of metal. He never saw a finished product. He and ten others had worked around the clock on twelve-hour shifts.
Yes, they had completed the project and then were sent home. Yes, they each received wages, and a bonus of 210,000 rials. That would be about seventy dollars, not a lot of money for a lens grinder.
“That’s all he knows, CIA agent,” Tauksaun said. “I don’t appreciate your use of the weapon in my house. It wasn’t needed.”
“It worked, nobody got hurt.”
“So far,” Tauksaun said. He spoke with the lens grinder for a few moments, then Tiny came. They put a blindfold around the small man’s eyes, and Tiny led him out the front door.
It would take Tiny a half hour to get the man out of the area and safely away. Tauksaun didn’t talk to George. He tried to find some American music on his short-band radio. He got mostly static, then located an American station on one of the Air Force bases in Germany. The music came through loud and clear.
The Andrews sisters had just finished a golden oldie, when Tiny came in. She closed the door, then tried to turn, but staggered a step before she fell to the floor. George went down beside her and held her head.
Her eyes rolled for a moment, then steadied in place.
Blood seeped from her mouth.
“Police,” she whispered in English, then passed out. George carried her to a pallet beside the floor bed and stretched her out. He had tears in his eyes. Yasmeen knelt beside Tiny on the pallet, making a quick examination.
“She’s been shot in the chest,” Yasmeen said. “Probably hit one lung, and for sure lots of internal bleeding. If she doesn’t get to a hospital, she’ll die.”
“No hospital,” Tauksaun said. “The police would recognize her and let her die there. Tiny isn’t exactly unknown to the authorities. This is all on your head, CIA man.”
He stared at Tiny for a moment and blinked rapidly. He nodded to himself, and then used the telephone. He spoke quickly in English and Farsi, then hung up.
“A friend, a nurse, will
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