Read Online Fatal Conceit by Robert K. Tanenbaum - Free Book Online

hooded man asked. “Well, I MIGHT KILL YOU NOW!” he shouted and stuck the gun out at the diplomat, who cried out in terror. The man laughed derisively. “Or I think for now, I will keep you and see what you are worth to the American government. If not so much, then I will shoot you with pleasure.”
    The hooded man stepped over to Lucy. The eyes beneath the mask narrowed. “You look vaguely familiar,” he said. “Do I know you?”
    Lucy’s eyes hardened but she said nothing. It had taken her a moment to recognize his voice, because she had not expected the hunted to become the hunter, but she knew then that the hooded man was Amir Al-Sistani.
    He reached out to grab her chin and turn her face toward the light from one of the fires. Then he laughed. “Allah be praised! What sort of miracle is this! I did not recognize you in the dark, but I see now—the narrow face, the large nose, the pretty lips and eyes,” he said, then snorted as he looked her over. “The boyish body. You’re the little interpreter I met many years ago in New York City before you and your friends ruined my beautiful plan to destroy your country. What a surprise we should meet in Chechnya, eh! I guess there is more to you than languages.” He let go of her chin and his voice hissed like a snake’s. “But we’ll have more time to talk about that later.”
    Al-Sistani then stepped over to Jason, who was still on his knees and laboring from the beating he’d taken and his wounds. The terrorist pointed his weapon. “Accept Allah as the one true God and me as his representative on Earth and I may spare you,” he demanded.
    Jason looked up at his captor and the barrel of the gun. Neither his eyes nor his voice wavered. “Fuck you and the camel you rode in on, asshole.”
    Al-Sistani’s gun barked once and Jason pitched over to the side. “I guess he did not want to convert,” he said, and laughed again. He then looked back up into the night sky in the direction of the drone. “Quick,” he shouted to his men in his native Arabic. “The Americans may not be content to just watch for much longer, put the prisoners in one of the trucks, then split up. We’ll meet again later at our camp.” He hesitated and pointed at Lucy. “And be careful what you say in front of this one, she speaks the language of the Prophet and others as well.”
    The prisoners were quickly bound and heavy cloth hoods yanked down over their heads before they were thrown into the bed of a small truck and covered with a tarp. The vehicle sped away from the compound, the sound of the drone disappearing behind them.
    They rode in the bed of the truck for many hours, bouncing over rough roads, stopping only once so that—by the sounds of it—their captors could relieve themselves on the road, then fill up the truck’s gas tank from jerry cans before climbing back in to resume the drive. The captives were given no such consideration and eventually Lucy gave in to the call of nature.
    Bruised, damp, and in shock, Lucy fell into a stupor as the miles passed. She tried not to think about Ned but couldn’t help it. He’s dead or badly wounded , she thought, or he would have never stopped fighting or trying to save me. She hoped that somehow he had survived. But just before the truck left the compound, she heard several shots ring out and the sound of men laughing and talking in Arabic about “putting the infidels out of their misery,” and she cried for her man.
    When they at last arrived at what was apparently the terrorists’ base, Lucy was separated from Huff and dragged, still hooded, into a building and down several flights of stairs to the room where she was tied to a hard wooden chair. Then she was left alone without food or water. The lightbulb had been kept on, and indigenous music played incessantly from the hallway where her guards