Resigned, Barry nodded shakily. “Okay, okay. You win. What is it you want?”
The accent was still there, but the man’s words had suddenly become a flowing array of beautiful English.
Nate exhaled loudly. “Thank Christ.”
As Barry was sitting up, Nate told him, “I need to know where I can find Achim Akmar.”
Hearing the other man’s name, Barry shot straight up and started to reach for the ignition. Fortunately, Nate had bought the rest of Bravo enough time to make their presence known.
“Touch that key and you’ll be pulling back a bloody stump.”
Through the passenger window, Nate smiled at Kole who was currently pointing his own gun at Barry’s frozen right hand.
“Hey, man,” Nate greeted his teammate. “Nice of you to join us.” To Karas, he said, “Dude, if I were you, I’d listen to the guy. I once saw him shoot a man center mass from over a hundred yards away. With a paintball gun.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Kole looked across at Nate. “It was my sniper rifle, asshole. I just adjusted a few things on her.”
“Yeah, but you should have seen this shot, Barry. It truly was a thing of beauty.”
More confused than scared, the man looked from Nate to Kole, then back again. “I-I cannot give you Achim. He has eyes everywhere.”
“Yet, you came to a crowded concert in the middle of the day. In the open.” Nate pretended to think a minute. “Yeah, I’m not buying it, Barry.”
“I tell you the truth! I do not work with Achim Akmar. I never have. He is a monster.”
“You may not have worked with him,” Gabe spoke from behind Kole. “But you can help us find him.”
Their team leader gave Nate a nod. He opened the driver’s door and pulled Karas from the car.
“Come on, Barry. Let’s go have a chat, shall we?”
After walking Karas to the van Ryker had arranged for them to use while in the country, Nate and the others drove him to one of Homeland’s secure locations. It was an abandoned apartment building slated for demolition in the next few weeks.
Located on the outskirts of the city’s eastern border, there was nothing around but a few crumbling structures. A couple squatters had been using the place as their shelter, but they took one look at Gabe and ran off faster than a kitten in a dog pound.
Having set up shop in one of the spaces on the top floor, Gabe had all but ensured no one would be able to hear Barry’s screams, in case it came to that.
From the sounds Nate could hear coming from the other side of the closed door, it definitely had.
His gut tightened. He understood the art of torture, and also knew there was a time and place for it. It was the means to a necessary end, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“How long is Gabe going to keep at it? If the guy hasn’t talked by now, I don’t think he’s going to.”
Kole looked up from where he was cleaning his sniper rifle, just to have something to do. “You know how Gabe works. He does what it takes to get to the truth.”
“Isn’t that what Akmar does?”
“Seriously?” Turner stood from the box he’d been sitting on. “You’re really comparing Gabriel Dawson, a decorated SEAL and our team leader, to that murdering sonofabitch, Akmar?”
“No. Of course not,” Nate backtracked. “Come on, Matt. You know what I mean. When do you decide enough is enough?”
“Not my call. But what I do know is that Akmar tortured one of our own to death. He was a SEAL for fuck’s sake. And what about Gracie?”
That had Nate standing from the metal folding chair he’d managed to find. “What about her?”
“I saw the way you were with her at the office the other day. Don’t you want to be able to go home and tell her we found the man who murdered her friend? I bet that would make her like you even more than she already does.”
“You know what? Fuck you. I’m so goddamn tired of everyone trying to get into my business.”
