Sorry for the delay on this one. Hit a bit of a block on this chapter. My mind kept racing ahead to write future parts I was excited about but couldn't seem to get through this one. So on a good note the next couple chapters are well on their way :)
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The team watched the shaky camera feed that shifted and lurched with each step Preach. He made is way silently through through the dark and cramped prison hallways with a strong sense of purpose to his step. The accompanying guard tried to make idle small talk but quickly gave up and let their footsteps echo in the uncomfortable silence as they made their way past cell after cell. Preach was normally a warm and welcoming fatherly figure to the team but apparently he could pull off cold and detached with the best of them when he wanted to. All attempts at conversation had been met with cool silence and an intimidating look that had the prison guard scurrying along the hallway clearly eager to hand his charge off and be done with it.
Even from behind the lens the team could sense the man's relief when he finally reached his destination, indicated the door to Preach and backed off quickly down the hall trying and failing to look purposeful rather than just happy to be free.
Preach waited until the man was just about to round the corner before calling out,
"Attendez"
The fleeing man froze, shoulders tensing as he unhappily turned back around.
Preach studied him for a long moment watching the guard shift and squirm. They could almost see him debating if he could just making a run for it, when Preach finally broke the tense moment with a simple, pleasant "Merci."
The guard seemed to wilt, stammering an unintelligible reply before redoubling his efforts for a hasty retreat.
"Dalton, I think you should give Preach more undercover assignments, he seems to be enjoying himself" Patricia's voice dryly broke the silence on their coms. The team gathered around the monitors back at the safe house all smirked and McG seized the set up "There you go Preach, if we can't save Amir from his 25 to life you might have a new role. Make sure to add "made prison guard wet pants" to your resume'.
Both Dalton and Preach ignored the banter, focused entirely on what lay behind the door and Preach firmly grasped the handle and finally pulled it open with a forceful yank.
He strode confidently into an overcrowded room, men standing shoulder to shoulder in too close quarters to get the best view through the window that lay opposite his entry point. Various uniforms and states of attire denoted the different military, police and and intelligence personnel that were in attendance. As Preach made his entrance all heads turned to survey the newest occupant without moving from their observation posts close to the glass. Preach was unphased by the scrutiny, calmly crossing the room without any hesitation and breaking into smooth French to ask for his contact.
The members in the room had been expecting him. Patricia had worked her magic convincing the French government that she had a team member in the vicinity who had a history with Hamid Khedani and would be better suited to interrogate him than someone starting from scratch. She had gently offered American help, while firmly reminding them of their previous incompetence with detecting and stopping the cell on their own, until they had requested her help as if it was their own idea. The French functionaires had eaten it up, happy to accept American help on the side and then take credit for it later. The proud military, police and intelligence personnel in this room did not seem as appreciative of that strategy. Clearly taking his presence as an insult, a suggestion that they were not compétant to do their jobs.
One officer finally stepped away, turning fully to shake Preach's hand and introduce himself. He offered the chance to sit for some refreshments while he briefed the American on the file and what they had learned so far. Preach quickly shook his head " I do not need a briefing or tea. Enough time has already been wasted and I'm sure he has given you nothing. What I need is the room alone with Mr. Khedani, I am well acquainted with anything you have in that file."
The officer's eyebrows rose, unimpressed with Preach's aggressive manner and assumptions regarding their progress to this point. His jaw worked stiffly and he appeared to be working to stifle the several ways he probably wanted to respond to that comment. Instead he rose abruptly from the table with a curt "suivez moi". Preach rose and followed obediently, crossing the room to the door that lay beside the thick glass pane. The officer pressed a prox card to the panel and the door audibly unlocked allowing him to pull the door wide and beckon inside with a sweeping arm movement. "Bonne Chance" he said acerbically, without a hint of sincerity. He then gestured for his own men to exit the small room leaving Preach on his own as the door slammed behind him.
Preach's camera finally caught the first sight of their teammate since his capture. Amir sat heavily strapped to the chair, head slumped forward and body slouched uncomfortably to one side. His clothes were rumpled and disheveled, a sharp contrast from the polished and powerful look he had sported earlier in the morning. His head finally raised causing various muted exclamations of anger from his teammates.
"Damn, they didn't waste any time did they"
Jaz let out a quiet whistle. It had only been 6 hours since he had been pulled from her side, but his face told a clear story of what had happened since then. Large bruises dotted the sides of his face already starting to show their colours. His expression was punctuated by cuts on his cheekbones and around his lips. One eye was swollen and heavy, not opening fully when he blinked slowly trying to focus on his new visitor. Jaz grimaced, he looked like he had ended up on the bad side of a boxing match and she would put good money that he had a hell of headache right now. He would also probably have quite a pair of shiners to show for it tomorrow morning.
"McG?"
Dalton's voice was outwardly calm but she could see his simmering anger in the set of his mouth and the tightly balled fists at his side.
McG responded to the unspoken question quickly. He had already been busy cataloging the possible injuries. "Hard to say with any certainty from here but looks like at least some bruised ribs from how he is sitting. Doesn't take any medical training to see they used his head as a punching bag, good bet he's got a concussion."
Dalton acknowledged the assessment with a sharp nod. "You think he is up for our plan?"
The medic looked at him in surprise "you mean we aren't pulling the plug and getting him the hell out of there?"
He took the notable silence from both Patricia and Dalton as his answer and shook his head bemused "Of course not." He blew out a noisy breath of frustration "Honestly Top, I don't get it. Why the hell is he willing to go through all this just for a cover"
It was practically a rhetorical question, or at least one that Dalton didn't seem to have any plans to answer.
Instead Jaz caught their CO's eyes drifting to her speculatively, as if waiting her to agree with McG's assessment. Anticipating her jumping on the opportunity to criticize Amir's decision making with a more sinister motive than McG's polite disbelief.
Guilt settled heavily when she realized that that was what he now expected from her. Apart from Dalton having to step in on the mission in Ukraine, she'd convinced herself she was doing well at keeping her feelings hidden and separate from their missions. That she could keep Amir at arms length personally but still work effectively in the field with him when needed. Top's reaction here made it clear that that wasn't the case. Maybe there had been a pattern of negative comments or quick judgement that she hadn't even been aware of on some level. Looking back she couldn't deny that she had been quicker to question things Amir suggested, when she might have given any of her other teammates ideas a chance.
Of course Dalton had picked up on it all though, he was the most perceptive person she knew. Even now he was still watching her and probably knew exactly what thoughts were swirling in her mind. She met his gaze and he gave her a soft smile of approval, obviously content to see her thinking things through. After a second he turned back to the monitors to keep tabs on things.
Amir gave no signs that he recognized the man in front of him as Preach pulled up a chair in front of him. Hopefully a result of his impressive acting skills and because of too many blows to the head. But regardless he played the part well. The silence stretched as the two men stared at each other calm and calculating, neither in a hurry to break the silence, neither wanting to make the first move.
Amir finally blinked first "if you are going to waste my time, I would like to leave, it is almost time for prayers." He was testing the waters curious to see what direction they wanted him to go with this.
Preach responded with a swift series of questions about Hamid's activities in the cell, his connections to Africa, future plans, connections in Europe etc. All of which Amir refused to answer, responding with predictable rhetoric and giving misleading answers, stonewalling him just as he had the other interrogators before him.
The two danced back and forth, improvising long enough to be more than believable to those watching. Despite not having the script, Amir read the cues and played it perfectly. Slowly raising the temperature and starting to fire back increasingly provocative barbs and threats at his newest interrogator. Preach finally called it for the night stating they would resume their chat in the morning. He stood and turned to leave but Amir had saved the best for last sending one parting shot at Preach's retreating back. "I look forward to it. Going home to call your family? Your three lovely daughters are probably waiting eagerly by the phone. We wouldn't want to keep them waiting ...would we?"
He barely finished the thinly veiled threat before Preach's fist drove hard into his stomach with enough force to send the legs of the chair flying out backwards and send its occupant face first into the floor. Amir coughed and wheezed trying to catch his breath with his face pressed into the dirty floor.
Preach stepped in close to the overturned chair, crouching down beside the man and whispered for Amir's ears only "Sorry brother, you can get a free shot next time we are in the ring". Resuming his character he patted the man on the cheek condescendingly and then stood and stepped away in the direction of the exit calmly ignoring the man writhing and muttering muffled curses on the floor.
As he passed through the viewing room he made eye contact with each individual who had been watching.
"Nobody touches him, leave him there all night just like he is. I will be back at 6:00 am sharp and expect to see him right where I left him, in the position I left him"
Without waiting for a response he departed leaving stunned silence in his wake. Just as the door was closing he heard the low hum of conversations restarting and smirked as he picked out the one English phrase enunciated loudly and clearly for his ears in the hallway
"Fucking Americans. "