ISLAMABAD, PAKISTAN
Atiq knew they would be coming for him soon. And when he failed to answer their questions, they would follow the process that he had established to interrogate enemies. It focused around the concept of inflicting the highest amount of pain while keeping the subject alive.
They would start easy, waterboarding him for a couple of hours, before removing his fingernails, then his molars. They would finish the first session by torching his testicles with a disposable lighter. When that didn’t work, they would begin the second session by peeling the skin off his feet before immersing them in salt. But the real pain would begin on the third session.
Atiq shook his head. Prime Minister Korai wanted to know the itinerary, the route to deliver the bomb, as well as the delivery vehicle—information the former ISI chief planned to take to his grave. The only other soul besides Salma and Montoya with that knowledge was Lari, and he had likely perished in the dead zone that was Karachi. His bungalow had been right next to the chemical plants.
Atiq would indeed take the knowledge to his grave. But he intended to do so while sparing himself the suffering he had inflicted on so many of his enemies, some lasting as long as a week before succumbing to unimaginable pain.
They would be coming soon indeed, but he would not give them the pleasure of torturing him.
They had removed every object from his cell that Atiq could have used to end his life … except one.
On his knees facing Mecca, Atiq said his final prayers as he prepared to fight back for the last time by preventing Korai from jeopardizing his final act of vengeance against the Americans.
Kill the unbelievers, wherever you find them.
Fight against them until there is no dissention.
Fight until no other religion exists but Islam.
The words of the Koran echoed in his mind as he whispered them again and again. He sought and found in them the strength to bite hard into one of his rear molars, cracking the tiny capsule surgically implanted for this very occasion.
He stared at the wall as the chemicals were released. The capillaries lacing the ceiling of his mouth absorbed them, injecting them into his bloodstream.
He waited while whispering those simple words that had defined his life from the moment he watched his family burn alive.
Kill the unbelievers, wherever you find them.
Fight against them until there is no—
The cyanide worked quickly, inducing seizures. Histotoxic hypoxia set in when his cells were no longer able to absorb oxygen, followed by cardiac arrest and death seconds later.