Ultimate Power Read Online Free PDF Page B

drink.”

Alexa saw Neil and Bruce and drew up into a parking bay at the International Arrivals section of Charles de Gaulle. They were standing, chatting, backpacks slung over their shoulders. They travelled light. They had arrived at the airport within an hour of each other. Alexa checked her watch. Two thirty in the morning.
    Alexa honked and waved them over. They strode towards the car, and Neil climbed into the back seat. Bruce pulled the passenger door open and slid into the seat, adjusting it all the way back. “Any news?”
    Alexa shook her head. “No sign of his Geolocation Device, they must have removed it.” She pushed the stick shift into reverse and pulled out of the parking. She maneuvered through the traffic and within minutes they were on the A106 heading towards Paris.
    “Where we going?” Bruce asked.
    “The Presidential Palace, we’ve got a temporary office set up there. We’re liaising with Lyon via conference calls.”
    The road was congested, and Alexa slapped a magnetized yellow emergency light on the roof. The twenty-three kilometer trip could take up to forty minutes, hopefully this would halve the time.
    Bruce showed his tablet PC to Alexa. It had a map with a small, red blip that flickered on and off. “I know where he is.”  
    Her heartbeat started racing. “How the hell did you manage to track him?”
    “I’ll explain when we get to the palace. Let’s brief everyone at the same time.”
    “You sure it’s him?” Neil asked.
    “Positive.”
    “Where is he?”
    Bruce dragged his fingers across the screen. “Somewhere close to Kabul.”
    Alexa hesitated. “Dad, I suggested that they make you acting commander until Laiveaux returns.”
    He slowly tilted his head from side to side, weighing his choices. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for the job.”
    “There’s no-one else.”
    Bruce frowned. “I guess you’re right.”
    Alexa smiled. “I know I am.”

The man hit Laiveaux in the face again, rocking him back with the blow. “Where?” the man shouted, sweat dripping from his chin. He shook his hand painfully.
    The mustached man that had identified himself as al-Sharif held his hands in the air, playing the good cop role. "Come now, General. This needn't go on. All we want is the location of the safe house where you're keeping Ahmad Ahmani in Paris."
    Laiveaux licked his bruised lip. They were going about this the wrong way. They could beat him all day. Interrogations were about breaking the mind as well, not just the body.  
    The adrenaline that was pumping through his system acted as a natural painkiller, they could hack off a bloody limb, he doubted if he would have felt it. Plus, he was bound loosely, he could roll with every blow, minimizing the damage. The man was hurting himself more than he was hurting Laiveaux. He dropped his head on his chest and sighed.  
    These guys were damn amateurs.
    He pushed the pain into the compartment in his mind that he had segmented for that exact purpose. Once he was safe again and had debriefed himself, he would toss that compartment away and never come back to it again. It would be like it had never happened.  
    He listed the mistakes they were making as a way to bide his time. Take for example the way he was bound. His arms were tied to the armrest of a sturdy chair, and his feet tied to the legs of the chair. Nice and comfy. When he opened and closed his fingers, the blood circulated perfectly.  
    No, he would have taken an entirely different approach. First of all, you needed to get the prisoner as uncomfortable as possible. Adrenaline eventually seeps away, but the extended periods of severe discomfort would be worse than any blows received.  
    What he would have done was to tie his arms over the back of the chair and fastened his upper legs to the seat, pulling his feet up and tying them to his arms, as tight as possible. You needed to stretch those suckers, no way the circulation was going to get going then.
    Prisoners