State Of The Union

Harvath hit^* 69 to see who Lawlor’s last call had been from. The automated voice gave a Maryland area code followed by a seven-digit number, which Scot wrote with a pen onto the palm of his hand. At least it was something. Whether that something would actually be worthwhile was another question entirely, but he didn’t have any time to toss that possibility around now. If there was a trap and trace, the FBI would now know that someone was in the house and that the phone had been used. He had to get out.

As Harvath took one last look at the pictures on the walls of Gary ’s study, he whispered into the darkness, “Where the hell are you?”

Chapter 10

BERLIN, GERMANY

Gary Lawlor spat the blood from his mouth, looked into the eyes of Helmut Draegar and said for the third time, “Fuck you.”

The large, stone room, with its out-of-date furniture, empty filing cabinets, and antiquated communications consoles, was cold and damp. From the little Lawlor could remember of being transported here, it was someplace deep underground. Estimating the probable amount of time he had been incapacitated by the Taser, Lawlor figured they must still be somewhere in Berlin, or just on its outskirts. Often, he could hear a faint, but distinct rumbling, like jackhammers, and thought that they must be near some sort of construction, which wasn’t any help because in Berlin, that could be anywhere.

“Though this gives me great pleasure, it is not working, is it?” asked Draegar as he set down the oblong strip of leather clad iron he had been using to beat his prisoner and removed his black leather gloves. “We should try something else.”

He motioned to his assistant and for the first time, Gary noticed the flesh of Draegar’s right hand. There was something uneven about it. No, not uneven, butwrong. The color was off. Then he realized.It was a prosthetic.

Draegar’s assistant, addressed as Karl, was a sinewy man in his late forties with opaque eyes and a sickly, jaundiced complexion. He wheeled over a large surgical lamp and plugged it into a nearby outlet as Draegar said, “I see you looking at my hand.”

“How?” said Lawlor.

“Wolves caught in snares have been known to gnaw off their own leg in order to escape. Do you think when presented with the same obstacles human beings would be any different?”

Lawlor wanted to vomit.

At that moment, Karl flipped the switch and the murky room was suddenly awash in bright fluorescent light. As he adjusted the lamp, it flashed briefly in Lawlor’s eyes and caused him to see spots before it was lowered to focus on his mouth.What the hell were they doing?

The answer came quickly enough as his captor wheeled over a small stainless steel surgical tray and unrolled a worn leather case containing a series of long, chrome plated picks, probes, mirrors and dental pliers. “I actually first saw this in a movie,” said Draegar as he carefully selected the tools he would need and began placing them off to one side of the tray. “It takes a very precise hand, if you will, but can yield great results. The key is in prolonging the life of the exposed nerve for as long as possible, but if the one you are working on dies, which with this method inevitably happens, not to worry. We just expose a new one.”

With his hands and feet flexi-cuffed to the old wooden chair he was sitting upon, Lawlor could only stare in disbelief as Karl plugged a portable electric dental drill into another wall outlet, unraveled its long cord and then brought it over and set it down on the tray next to the other instruments. Instinctively, Gary clamped his teeth together as tight as he could.

Draegar noticed the ripple roll across Lawlor’s jaw and said, “Resistance. Excellent. It will help keep things interesting.” As Karl maneuvered himself behind Lawlor, Draegar continued speaking, “One way or another, I will extract the information I need from you.”

Though Lawlor’s body was tense in anticipation of the sheer agony Draegar had in store for him, in a small, removed corner of his mind there was clarity. Draegar had used the wordneed. Though the former Stasi operative obviously took pleasure in torturing him, he would not kill him, at least not right away.

But the primary question that dominated Gary Lawlor’s mind was how in the world Helmut Draegar had survived Gary’s attempt on his life. Night after night he had lain awake devising the method by which he would kill the man who had murdered his wife. When the time came, he had carried out his plan in perfect detail, even allowing himself time to watch the explosion as it shook the ancient building and spat a thundering cloud of smoke and fiery debris into the night sky. But somehow, here Draegar was. How was it possible? How could he have escaped?

As Karl’s hands gripped the side of Gary’s head and his fingers tried to pry their way into his mouth, his mind was jolted back to the present. The man was strong and Lawlor did his best to resist him, thrashing in his chair as much as his restraints would allow.