The Panic Zone by Rick Mofina Read Free Book Online Page A

water, no sleep, not to mention a few other methods that are not pretty.”
    â€œThey’re compensating for moving too quickly in picking him up,” Lancer said. “They should have put surveillance on him.”
    â€œThey were eager to help. Today, our people in Dar es Salaam set up a satellite link in the interview room. Since the original complaint involves U.S. property, Tanzanian officials have invited us to ask Salelee questions. They think he could be ready to talk. Craig, are they set?”
    An analyst talking on a landline nodded.
    â€œBob, as you know, Craig is fluent in Kiswahili. Ask your questions, and he’ll repeat them to the police in Dar es Salaam.”
    â€œFine,” Lancer said, “but I don’t expect much. Besides, when you’re aggressive, a prisoner will most likely give you bullshit intelligence.”
    Within minutes a clear satellite link was activated. In a stark room, a number of men stood around a seated figure whose hands and ankles were bound to the chair. Salelee’s face was a stew of swollen cuts that forced his eyes shut. His body sagged with exhaustion.
    For nearly forty minutes, the local police questioned Salelee.
    There was the drone of Kiswahili with Craig translating quickly and softly. Watching and listening, Lancer noticed two landline phones on the table in the room in Dar es Salaam; one in use that was connected to Craig’s line, and a second one not in use.
    Lancer thought of strategy, mulling it over as the questioning went on.
    â€œWhat is your interest in the embassy, Salelee?”
    â€œI told you it is painting. I am a poor painter working hard to support my wife and children. I had learned the Americans want to paint the building. I was sizing up the job to offer—”
    â€œTell us the truth.”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œWe know you are with the Lions.”
    â€œNo, I attended a meeting, that is it.”
    â€œDo not lie to us, Salelee, you’re a leader.”
    â€œNo, I am a poor painter from Msasani. I have a family—”
    Lancer waved Weller over, pointed at the screen and asked about the second phone in the room.
    â€œCan we call into the room and make that phone ring?”
    Weller whispered to Craig, who checked his computer, then nodded.
    â€œCall in,” Lancer said. “When it’s answered, explain who we are, then tell the man to say aloud for Salelee’s benefit, ‘hold everything, something has happened.’”
    Craig dialed and within ten seconds the line rang.
    On the screen one of the interrogators moved to answer in Kiswahili, and Craig spoke Lancer’s words. The man in the room repeated them aloud in Kiswahili.
    â€œNow tell him to say to Salelee that police have arrested the others and they’re revealing everything about the plan. You, Salelee, are implicated. They fear you have exposed them already.”
    The man came back to the phone.
    â€œTell him to say ‘This is bad for you, Salelee, very bad.Your friends have moved quickly to implicate you. You’ll suffer the most.’”
    Salelee’s head bowed.
    â€œTell the man on the line to keep the line open. Tell Salelee now is the time to save himself. We will send people to his house to get his wife and children, for their safety, because the others think Salelee’s betrayed them.”
    A moment passed before Salelee began nodding.
    â€œHe says, ‘I will give you some information on a different plan, but you must protect my family,’” Craig translated.
    Lancer crossed his arms and stepped closer to the screen.
    â€œTell Salelee to tell them now, for the safety of his family.”
    The Tanzanian cop repeated the words.
    â€œHe says, ‘First, let me talk to my wife on the telephone.’”
    The Tanzanian cops, on the earlier advice of the Americans, had already placed Salelee’s wife in custody in another office within the building where she sat