State Of The Union

“My government?” snapped Harvath as he tried to shake the stars from his head and focus on the man towering above him.Who the hell was this guy? And who was he working for? He certainly wasn’t with the FBI. If he was, Harvath would have been dragged down to the Washington Field office or FBI headquarters and all of this would have been cleared up by now. Whoever this guy was, he was operating way out on the edge. There was no way they could be working for the same team. That left Harvath with only one possible conclusion-somehow, the Russians were on the same trail he was. “If you know anything about my government,” Scot continued, “then you know I won’t be forgotten that easily.”

“Losing you will be painful for them,” said the man, “but I’m sure you’re not irreplaceable.”

Harvath could tell the man was trying to lead the interrogation somewhere and he decided to follow, at least for the time being to see where it was going. He had to figure out what was going on and who he was dealing with. Somehow, this man seemed to know who he was, or at least that he worked for the United States government. “No one wants to believe they are replaceable,” said Harvath, “but it is a fact of life. That being the case, there are plenty more out there who will eagerly take my place.”

“And that is precisely what we want to know,” said the man. “How many are there? Who are they? Where are they? How do we contact them? We want all of it. If you cooperate, maybe we can work something out.”

Harvath’s head hurt and lying flat on his back with his hands cuffed to the sides of a kitchen chair was not helping his thought process any. “You want to know who and how many would replace me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“There’s thousands. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands even. All it takes is time and the right amount of training.”

“That’s the problem with you and your countrymen,” said the man. “You believe all of your own propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda, my friend. We have the best trained people in the world,” responded Harvath.

“Is that how you found Frank Leighton?”

“Who says I found him?”

“You found his house.”

“I told you-”

“Ladies’ Home Journal, I know,” replied the man who, standing to Harvath’s left, kicked him hard in the ribs. “And I told you to stop fucking around.”

Harvath struggled for several moments to regain his breath before responding. “Actually, you told me to shut the fuck up.”

The man kicked Harvath again.

“We know your people were aware that Frank Leighton was one of ours.”

Jesus, thought Harvath through the pain,who the hell is this guy?

“We know you were there to terminate him. Who did the others? Was it you?”

“What others?” coughed Harvath, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So it wasn’t you who killed our other operatives? Bullshit,” said the man as a he delivered a third and even more severe kick to Harvath’s side.

It took several moments for Harvath to get his breath back and while he gasped for air the man continued, “So, it’s our mistake? This is just a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? I think we both have to agree that judging from the array of goodies on the table over there, you were not simply skipping through the woods to Grandmother’s house to deliver a basket full of pies. Remember what I said about things getting worse? My boot to your ribs is going to pale in comparison to what I have planned for you. I hope you haven’t grown too attached to your testicles, because I’m going to hang them from my rearview mirror next.”

Harvath’s cold stare spoke volumes.

“You think I’m kidding? Take a look at these,” said the man as he held a rusty pair of pruning shears above Harvath’s face and worked the dirty blades back and forth. “I think they’ll do the trick just fine. We’ll go slow so you can appreciate the entire show. I hear in parts of the world eunuchs are still hired to watch over harems. What a shitty job that would be, huh? Water, water everywhere and no mouth to drink it with. It’s up to you. Tell us what we need to know and once we have it confirmed, we’ll talk about making a deal. We’re holding all the cards.”

“Oh, yeah? Well you can shove the whole deck right up your ass.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” said the man, with a twisted smile, as he righted Harvath’s chair and affected a perfunctory cleaning of the shears by wiping them on the sleeve of his shirt.

He had just begun cutting up Harvath’s left trouser leg, when another man walked into the kitchen and said, “Hold up on the prisoner.”

“And the good cop appears just in time,” quipped Harvath.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” said the man as he stopped clipping halfway up Harvath’s lower leg.

“There you go again.Let’s talk, no, shut up. Let’s talk, no, shut up. If you’ll let me call my editor, I’m sure she’d be happy to fax over a copy of that whole communications skills article.”

“You’re trying my patience,” said the man as he turned, “Why are we stopping?”

“Orders.”

“We don’t have time for this. Orders from whom?”

“Goaltender.”