Agency Rules - Never an Easy Day at the Office Read Online Free PDF

food at Barbecue Tonight – something he had really been looking forward to. No, Kamal was like a bird sitting atop buildings, taking in sights that no one wanted to admit existed in the city of lights. His six months had been spent prostrate, binoculars pressed to his eyes, watching targets in Sohrab Goth, Malir, Lyari and Orangi Town. He had grown accustomed to the sun beating down on him, baking him to a crisp. Karachi, unlike the scenic mountainous area he grew up in, was humid and hot, reaching desert temperatures at times. In the areas he’d visited, pollution and population had even blocked out the sea breeze the city was famous for. He was sure that his color had gotten two shades darker, matching the shift in his personality, as he watched the gruesome gang war escalate.
    In six months, the team had neutralized over two hundred criminals involved in gang-related violence, snatched another hundred that had been interrogated for valuable information. These detainees had not been handed over to civilian courts, which were paralyzed by the fear of reprisals; they were in the safe hands of the military tribunal located within a secret prison guarded by fellow SSG commandos. History had taught the army that jails and prisons were not secure, but a prison that no one knew existed facilitated the army in intelligence gathering and swift justice.
    Sadly, with any escalation of violence, there were innocent casualties from Karachi as well, as law enforcement, paramilitary and citizens became the targets in the fight to control the city. This was war , Kamal thought to himself as he sat reading the latest briefing in another cramped, rented apartment, and war has never been for the faint of heart . The only plus point of the escalation was that the remaining gang bosses were settling scores in the hope to fill the void left by the neutralized, effectively reducing Kamal and his team’s workload.
    The interrogations had yielded results and volumes of intelligence were passed to the analysts sitting within the ISI command center in Karachi for verification and target selection. It had been through these renditions that many of the top gang bosses and their hideouts had been identified for surveillance, where Kamal and his team would move into action again. But today was a different. Kamal had been tapped by the command to actively participate in an interrogation.
    Six months ago, Kamal would never been able to use the force and intimidation required to get information from a detainee, and had proven it in his first entry to the Chamber. He was so gentle and controlled that the detainee openly mocked him, comparing him to a child asking for ice cream. He had experienced psychological torture during his SSG training where he was taught the difference between tone and force.
    “Tone is used to create fear within a subject,” his instructor taught. “Force is the realization of that fear.” A good interrogator used tone with the threat of force to gather intelligence. While effective, with tougher targets this method was questionable because the subject could pepper lies into the story. A great interrogator used force to connect a verbal demand with the real pain of non-compliance, a single trait that differentiated field interrogators gathering information from the quizmasters that were relied upon to deliver results. In simple terms, the difference between boys and men.
    Today, Kamal stood on the other side of the glass as an observer while Dawood questioned Absar. But as the interview progressed, Kamal realized that Dawood wasn’t getting anything of value from Absar.
    “Look, we know that you are Minto ’s number two. There is very little that we don’t know about you,” Dawood calmly said. “The best option for you is to be cooperative and you might see the light of day again.”
    “Fuck you, motherfucker,” fired Absar. “ You can’t break me. You know why? You’re a bitch! That’s all you are.”
    Dawood,