In The Swamp.
Evening
There was no time like the present to interrogate an asshole, and the bleeding one, plus the sketchy one, were about to have very bad evenings. They had knowledge, and The Hunters needed what they knew.
So, Clint was up first, and he ended up being the easier one of the two to break.
Imagine their surprise when Maura only had to ask a single question, and the man began singing like a canary.
It was crazy.
Truth be told, all of their interrogations needed to be this easy.
What was the question?
Oh, it was simple enough.
“Mr. Rust, what the hell is going on that would put you in this position?” Maura asked.
The man looked about ready to crawl out of his own skin. He was shaking, and he was absolutely terrified.
Granted, mercenaries just shot up his cabin, and both sets of people had found him rather easily.
Someone was bad at hide-and-seek.
Clearly.
Without any more provocation, Clint Rust spilled his guts.
“I was in Afghanistan bedded down with a military envoy from Great Britan.”
They waited.
“The sole point was to help keep the peace there, and to back up the Afghanistan military against the Taliban. The head of operations there had an account where he could pull money to pay off the Afghanistan troops if they got the idea of defecting or bowing to the Taliban.”
So far, he wasn’t telling them anything they hadn’t found out from Elizabeth. They really hoped he had more than this, or they wasted a trek into this god-forsaken hellhole.
The man next to him who was bleeding warned him to keep his mouth closed.
“Shut the fuck up, Clint. You’re not supposed to talk about this!”
Because she knew the man wouldn’t be helping them, just by how he was trying to stop Clint, she handled it.
Maura pulled out her gun and shot him in the head.
Point.
Blank.
Then, she pointed at Clint.
“If you want to end up like him, fuck with me. I’m wet, I’m cold, I’m pregnant, and I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”
Then, she pointed at Jagger.
“And honestly, neither is my husband.”
Jagger just glared at him.