Page 112 of Rising Tiger

The probes landed in the puddle of water he was standing in and lit him up like a Christmas tree.

Goon that he was, he stood there growling, foaming at the mouth, and shaking, but refused to face-plant like a properly felled redwood.

Harvath pressed the trigger and hit him with another burst of electricity, encouraging him to ride the lightning once more.

As he seized up again, Harvath moved forward.

When he was right in front of Durrani, Harvath engaged him again. This time with the Taser’s second shot. The barbed probes tore right through Durrani’s shirt and embedded themselves in the flesh of his chest.

This time he was powerless to fight the baseball bat to his neurological fuse box. He fell face-first and broke his nose when he hit the floor.

Normally Harvath would have been looking for toilet paper or tampons to shove up his captive’s nostrils to stop the bleeding, but right now he didn’t care. Raj could deal with the stains in the trunk.

After placing Durrani in flex cuffs, he checked on Asha. Her wound was worse than she had let on. She wasn’t exsanguinating, but she needed medical attention.

Removing the tourniquet from his vest, he applied it to her thigh and marked the time. Every minute would count.

CHAPTER 62

“Let me explain how this is going to work,” said Raj as he sat down on the edge of the metal table to which Basheer Durrani had been handcuffed and chained. “There are a series of rhetorical doors available to you. I will explain what is behind each one and then you will need to choose. Keep in mind that choosing not to act, to simply sit and remain silent, will be interpreted as an action. There is a door for that as well.”

Harvath sat in a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee in his hand, on the other side of the one-way glass. Gupta sat next to him, taking notes on a blue pad of paper, puffing away on his pipe.

Raj had allowed Harvath to witness the interrogation, with the caveat that if things drifted too far into matters of state security, he might be asked to leave the room for a bit. Harvath had agreed to the terms.

It was fascinating to watch Raj work. For a man known for being tough and abrupt, those were not the traits he was exhibiting now. He came off more like a math tutor moving a reluctant yet capable student through the concept of linear equations. These were not insoluble problems he was presenting. The student had the pertinent data needed to come to the correct conclusions. It was all about having the will to do so.

That was Raj’s job—to help Durrani find his will and get him to make the right choice. If Durrani didn’t make the right choice, things were going to get ugly for him very quickly.

“Just so you understand,” Raj continued. “The downing of thathelicopter was an act of war, by Pakistan, on India. It was completely unprovoked. I say that because I want you to know what the stakes are here. We are talking about our two nations going to war.Again. And believe me, if India chooses to do so, we are going to strike with such force that Pakistan will be reeling for years to come.”

Removing a handkerchief, the director of RAW’s Special Operations Division cleaned his glasses, completely comfortable with the silence in the room.

Then, placing them back upon his face, he said to Durrani, “Now, let’s talk about those doors I mentioned. Choose the right one, cooperate fully, and you can walk away a free man.”

The interrogation went on for hours. At one point Gupta leaned over and showed Harvath a text from Asha. No bone or arterial damage. She had been stitched up, bandaged up, and discharged.

Harvath was relieved to hear that. It had been a hell of a shuffle getting Amit out of the trunk, getting Durrani into it, and placing Asha on the backseat for the scramble to the nearest trauma hospital.

Once they had arrived, all he could do was drop her at the ER and wave a group of nurses over to assist.

After telling them how long the tourniquet had been on, he had leapt back into the car and driven off. Asha had insisted. She knew the importance of getting Durrani back to Raj and Gupta. And she had been right.

Putting Amit behind the wheel, they had driven straight to the Blind Relief Association. The men were outside waiting for them.

Harvath handed Amit back his phone and thanked him. Gupta then pulled the NGO worker aside, gave him money for a taxi, and delivered a very stern warning about national security and what would befall the man if he ever mentioned, to anyone, what had taken place.

With that loose end sufficiently tied off, Raj popped the trunk and took a picture of Durrani as Harvath double-checked the ISI operative’s restraints.

With Gupta then driving, they headed for the high-security detention and debriefing facility manned by the personnel of Special Group.

While Durrani was transferred to an interrogation room, Raj arranged for a team to retrieve all the surveillance gear from the lingerie shop. He then asked Harvath to take a walk with him as he smoked a cigarette.

“You saved Asha’s life,” Raj said. “Thank you.”

“She would have done the same for me. I don’t doubt it.”

“You also saw the mission through. Thank you for bringing us Durrani. What can we do for you?”

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