The Prisoner of Guantanamo Read Online Free PDF

Then he shrugged, looking down again. At least it was better than his usual reaction, which was to look upward to his right and say, “I don’t remember.”
    On previous occasions Falk had tried coaxing him further with treats, but treats had only made him babble more about home. Perhaps Falk had become a pushover. Even when dealing with a sensitive case like Adnan, putting a little steel in your voice never hurt from time to time.
    â€œMaybe we should ask your sisters, then. What do you think, Adnan? Shall we send someone to Sana to say hello? They’d probably know, wouldn’t they?”
    Adnan looked up at Falk, glaring. It wasn’t as if Falk would actually go that route—security goons of the home government bashing down a door, grabbing the first young women they found. But Adnan didn’t know that, and now he was glancing at the two-way mirror as if someone else might be the source of this new approach.
    â€œNo one back there tonight, Adnan. Just you and me and the bedbugs. But the time for snacks and laughs is over. You know me and I know you, and you know what I need to help get you safely out of here. So level with me. ’Cause you know what? I won’t be here forever, and the moment you get a new boss then they really will start thinking about asking your family a few questions. And you know as well as I do that the Yemeni Interior Ministry won’t be handing out any baklava. So what do you say, Adnan? Who’s the man?”
    Adnan stared back angrily, yet he also seemed on the verge of some other emotion. It was an expression unlike any Falk had yet seen. Adnan looked down at the table for a few seconds, as if marshaling his thoughts, and when he looked up he was calmer.
    â€œAll right, then. I will tell you.” He paused, looking directly at Falk, who didn’t dare reach for pen or notebook. “It is Hussein. His name is Hussein.”
    â€œHussein?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd what else? Hussein
what
? His full name, Adnan.”
    â€œThat is all you need.”
    â€œWhich narrows it down to a few thousand Husseins.”
    Christ, he’d been had.
    â€œNot Hus-
sein.
Hus-
SAY.
”
    Hussay? Now what the hell kind of name was that? Some Yemeni variant? If so, it was none Falk had ever come across, although he had already learned repeatedly how little he really knew about the country’s various cultural tics. Perhaps the name was unusual enough that it would really help, so he’d better make sure he had it cold.
    â€œHu-
say
? Is that it? Or Hu-
sie
? Say it again, slower.”
    â€œHussay!” Adnan shouted it, slapping a hand on the table. Then he scowled and shook his head, annoyed and upset. His leg irons clanked. “I have given you a great gift, and you are too stupid to see it,” he said, his voice rising on every word. “A great gift! Because my secrets, they are just like yours!”
    â€œLike mine?” It made no sense, yet it was oddly disconcerting.
    â€œDo you not see it? Are you so stupid?”
    Falk had never seen the like of it. Adnan was fairly spluttering with rage, a liveliness he had always hoped for but never expected.
    It was at this point that Mitch Tyndall had waltzed through the door, smelling of a shower, a shave, and the humidity of the night, brisk as a game show host as he smiled and pointed to his watch, tapping the face of an oversized Rolex.
    â€œSorry to interrupt, buddy, but I left a notebook in here earlier. And I’ve got a big fish coming in from solitary in about five minutes. So if you don’t mind …”
    Obviously he hadn’t been watching from next door, much less monitoring their conversation with an interpreter. He’d simply barged in, assuming as everyone always did that any conversation with Adnan was expendable.
    Falk would have leaped to his feet cursing had he not been so desperate to salvage the moment. As it was, he clung tightly to his