Sunday was the big family breakfast for me and my mates; relaxed fun time. We were all up at 06:00; it was just habit.
At 09:30 Dad and I went to feed the prisoners. I used the excuse that Dad needed help for a few minutes with a project.
I put together two trays from the Morton restaurant, bananas, oranges apples, pastries and a couple of pancakes that they would have to eat dry. They weren’t getting anything they needed utensils for along with more bottled water and tea.
The first one was getting his sight back. He immediately looked at me as I unlocked the chains and his eyes followed me as I took the trash out from last night’s meal. He also kept looking at Dad holding the shotgun on him.
Last night before I zipped up the body bags and threw them in the dumpster, I checked the pockets. The only thing I found was prayer beads which I handed to them with breakfast.
The other prisoner was the same way. I chained the doors again and we left. The doc was coming at 1800 to do the interrogations with me.
When I got home, the girls and I went to the office. I had a firm limit of one hour desk work then I was going to spend the rest of the day in the gym. I was feeling sluggish and down and I was sure that it was because I had only managed at most a few minutes this week in exercise. I was just yuck.
I was still in the gym at 1730 when the doc called to say he was on the way. I had told the girls that I had an important meeting at 1800 that would take a couple hours. Vicky and Jenny asked if I wanted anyone to come along.
“No, it’s not going to be a good meeting and not for the squeamish; just keep supper warm for me. I will call you when I finish,” I replied.
The doc and I unloaded a dozen pieces of medical monitoring equipment into the exam room. Then he and I walked the first one over to the medical building.
When in the exam room, we stripped him down and put an adult diaper on him; he was getting combative now. We strapped him tightly to the exam table with wide leather straps.
An IV was started and let drip while the doc set up the rest of the equipment. Syringes with different drugs were filled and placed in order. The shock paddles were set on a table and checked out. An automatic blood pressure cuff was connected.
The doc placed sticky things on his chest, head and legs and they were hooked up to two different monitors.
“Everything is ready. You know this carries risk that he could die at any time. Start asking your questions,” the doc said.
“Consider him dead anyhow; it will be no loss either way,” I replied.
I started asking questions in Arabic.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“You are a whore,” he replied.
“Who paid you to attack the embassy?”
“Infidel,” he replied.
“Who gave you the weapons?”
“You will die a thousand deaths at the hands of Allah,” he replied.
I relayed the question and answers to the doc.
Just as the doc picked up a syringe, there was a knock on the door.
Who in the hell can that be, I had locked the gate and the door both so no one would come in.
I opened the door and stepped out to be facing Vicky and Frank.
“Neither of you should be here,” I said.
“We both need answers and I assume you are going to get them, in ways I never can. I need to hear them for myself,” Frank replied.
“Vicky what goes on here will cause you to have sleepless nights and nightmares; you need to go home,” I said.
“You do what has to be done – I need to be able to do that – you cannot shelter me forever. I want to be able to be as hard as you are when it is necessary,” she said.
The three of us walked back to the table.
“He is refusing to answer. The doc is about to influence that.”
I nodded to the doc then he pushed the plunger in a tiny bit. The table jerked and he went ridge under the straps, his face contorted in pain. The doc watched the monitors and waited then pushed a little more on the plunger.
He groaned and screamed then passed out. The doc continued to watch the monitors. A couple minutes later, he broke an ammonia capsule under his nose to bring him around.
“Are you ready to answer my questions?”
“Who paid you to attack the embassy?”
There was no response.
“Who supplied the mortars and guns?”
Again there was no response.
“Who is controlling your group?
“Go to hell; Allah will send you there, you infidel whore,” he finally said.
Again I relayed the answers to the doc.
The doc changed syringes to a larger one with a different color ingredient, placed it into the IV plug and pushed. The man lunged against the straps and the table shook and continued to shake.
The monitor nearly flat lined; as soon as it started to return the doc pressed the plunger a little more. When he started to turn blue, doc turned the oxygen on and put the pieces in his nose. Then he shoved a long needle into his heart and pushed the plunger.
Then doc shocked him with the paddles. It was five minutes before he relaxed in the restraints, then he got another ammonia capsule as the blips returned to normal on the screen.
When he returned to normal I asked, “Are you ready to answer my questions or did you want to have another dose?
“What were the questions?” he asked.
“Who do you take orders from? Who supplies the money?”
“Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab,” he replied.
“Who supplied the weapons?” I asked.
“Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab,” he replied.
“Who gave the orders to attack the embassy,” I asked.
“Abu Barazan,” he replied.
“Where is he from?” I asked.
“Saudi Arabia,” he replied.
“When are the Princes coming to Namibia?” I asked.
“They never come to Namibia. We meet them in South Africa,” he said.
“Where is Abu Barazan?” I asked.
“He comes in a private jet and leaves, never stays after dark,” he replied.
I looked at Frank, “Do you have any questions?”
“The crown prince involved in terrorism; I think you are lying to me. I’m going to have the doc give you a bigger dose,” I said.
“NO, NO in the name of Allah NO MORE; it’s the truth. May Allah strike me down if it is a lie,” he said.
“No, let’s swap them out and see if you get the same answers.”
I carried one to the jail and I mean carried – it was all he could do to walk – and brought the other back. We repeated the questions and had to go through the same procedure. We ended up with the same answers.
We helped the doc load up all his equipment, “Vicky can go with you to help unload. Don’t put it away too deep; we may need it again any day,” I replied.
“I don’t need any help,” the doc replied.
Damn, I wanted to get Vicky out of here. I guess it was not meant to be.
In the lights from the Suburban, the two became chum for the catfish in the pond. We loaded the trough with chlorine and fire wood, then ran thousands of gallons of water through and over it to clean it.
Before we split from Frank I asked, “Are those three on your friends or enemies list?”
“I don’t know, but I will find out. I do know where they are on your list without asking and I would not want to be them,” he replied.
Vicky had recorded the last part of the interrogation and the answers to my questions. Tomorrow she would give the names to Robert. For now it would go on the back burner. I was more interested in Saif; he was a much more immediate threat.
The Princes would curtail activities for awhile anyhow, to see if they had been exposed.
I expected to have problems with Vicky as soon as she realized what she has seen and participated in.
At supper everything was normal, like nothing out of the way had happened. There was no screaming in the night and breakfast was as normal as could be. May be I had under estimated Vicky’s strength, resolve and determination. Only time would tell.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.