CHAPTER ONE
“Are we sure there’s no way we can stop the networks from airing this—this programme?”
The President’s voice was plaintive.
“I don’t see how, Mr. President.” The Chief of Staff shook his head sadly. “Even if
they agreed, we’d never be able to stop them from disseminating it on the
internet—everyone would still see it and we’d look bad for trying to censor it.”
The chief executive got up, began pacing in front of his desk. “Do we know who they
have?”
“CIA’s not sure.” The Chief of Staff consulted his notes. “The news agencies don’t
really cooperate with them—and they never tell anyone when they’re going after a
‘story’.”
“This is going to be a story, all right.” The President sighed deeply. “One we’re not
going to like.”
“Two minutes to the broadcast.” The White House Communications Director kept his voice
low. “Are we going to watch in here?”
“Turn it on.” The President sank into his seat. “I sure don’t want the kids to see
this if it’s going to be anything like I think it will be.”
“Yes sir.” The Communications Director opened the cabinet doors that hid the big LCD
screen. “I’ll set it up.”
“I wish I had a cigarette.” The President sighed. “I could really use one right about
now.”
On screen, the CNN logo appeared followed by a very familiar newscaster who looked
dolefully into the camera as he intoned the faithful words: “We switch you now to a feed
from Al Jazeera TV…” The picture wobbled, went blank for a moment, then settled into a
shot of a figure in a black burkha, complete with hijab and niq?b. The camera stayed on
the figure as a tall man wearing a robe and the headgear of an Imam stepped into the
foreground.
“My God!” The Chief of Staff leaned forward. “That’s Abu Nadal! We thought…”
“Shhh!” The President gestured violently. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”
“Peoples of the decadent West,” the man smiled as he took a long step away from the
camera toward the initially-seen figure. He grabbed a handful of the back burkha and
yanked it toward him. “See how we of Islam treat your painted whores!”
The men in the oval office leaned closer as the black garment fell to the floor. Under
it was the naked body of a very pale woman. Her back was against a post of some kind with
her arms forced over a cross-bar and her wrists tied in front of her.
The man removed the hijab and niq?b.
“I know her…” The President leaned forward, snapping his fingers as he tried to
remember. “I met her at a fund raiser in Chicago.”
“She’s CNBC’s top reporter in the mid-east.” The Communications Director was biting his
lip. “She’s been covering the Afghanistan thing from the Arab point of view.”
“Then why are they doing this?”
“I don’t know…”
“This…female.” The man on screen ran a hand over the bound woman’s breasts, smiling
into the camera. “Came to us in an attempt to spy for the Western Crusaders.” His smile
grew wider. “This is how we treat such infidels.” He motioned and another man appeared—a
big man, stripped to the waist and holding…
“What’s that in his hand?” The President leaned closer, eyes searching.
“I think it’s called a switch.” The Chief of Staff sighed. “This is going to be worse
than I thought.”
On the screen, the speaker took a moment to remove a wad of cloth from the bound woman’s
mouth—then stepped to one side.
“What is he going to do?” The President looked to his advisors for an explanation.
“Watch.” The Chief of Staff bit the word off as the second man swung his arm back.
“Just watch.”
On the screen the switch whizzed in front of the camera and impacted across the soft
belly of the bound women.
She screamed in pain and horror.
CHAPTER TWO
Lacey Wilson’s eyes widened in horror as she was dragged into a small whitewashed
building. She heard some activity to her side and turned her head enough to see what was
happening. That’s Janet Milton… She saw the wooden wand slash into the bared belly of
the girl tied on the other side of the room. Why are they doing that to her? Her mind
raced to find some answer as the man holding her pushed her behind the camera. Even as he
shoved her against the wall, she couldn’t take her eyes off the scene playing out in front
of her—as one of her closest friends was tortured by the very people they had both tried
to stand up for and help.
The switch exploded across the other girl’s belly again; forcing another—louder—shriek
from Janet—one that went right into the camera.
Lacey wanted to scream as well—scream at the men to stop hurting her friend, scream for
them to untie her. She wanted to scream—but she couldn’t. Her mouth was filled to
overflowing with bits of wadded up cloth—all held there by a long strip of duct tape
wrapped around her head several times.
“S…Stop!” Lacey watched helplessly as her friend fought for control, breasts heaving as
she fought the ropes that held her so tightly. “Don’t do this to me! I came here…”
The switch fell again—this time across those same bared breasts. Lacey saw the bound
girl’s hands clench and unclench, fighting the thin cords that bound them together even as
she fought with her own bonds, trying to shake herself free.
It was no use. She couldn’t move; she could only stand helplessly and watch what was
happening to her friend.
The switch fell again, and Janet seemed to lose her mind, dissolving into a frenzied
mass of screaming, suffering flesh. Her screams grew louder and more desperate with each
blow.
Then she sagged into a dead faint.
Are they going to beat her to death? Lacey’s eyes widened at the thought. And what are
they going to do with me? She glanced around the little room; saw the bearded figure
standing near her. That’s Abu Nadal! She knew the face from her sources in the American
military. What’s he doing here? I thought he was in Lebanon…
Even as the question crossed her mind, Nadal answered it with his action—stepping in
front of the camera mounted in front of the suffering girl.
“You have seen what we have done to this one.” He nodded to the semi-conscious form
behind him. “We can do more.” He smiled. “And we have other subjects.” He glanced
toward Lacey—his eyes burning with a terrible promise—before turning back to the camera.
“We will continue these punishments each third day at this time.” The smile dissolved.
“And we will do so until the forces of the unbelievers are gone from the sacred soil of
Islam.” He gestured with an open hand. “Until then…”
The camera’s red eye went dark.
“So, Ms. Wilson.” Nadal stepped to Lacey’s side. “I see you too,. were kind enough to
accept our invitation.” He smiled at the helpless girl. “You will get the story we
promised.” He ran his hand down her cheek. “Although not in the way you thought.” He
turned away, gesturing at the man who had brought Lacey into the building. “Put her with
the others.” He nodded toward the sagging figure on the post. “That one as well.”
“Yes, great one.” The man bowed his head. “Shall I prepare this one like the
others?”
“Yes.” Nadal nodded. “Dress her properly—and make sure she is secure.”
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