CHAPTER 8Islamabad, Pakistan
March 21
The colonel pushed away from the desk, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes. It was late and he was tired. “Have you completed questioning Fasihullah?”
The master sergeant nodded. “He lost control of his bladder before I asked the first question. It was embarrassing. Fasi babbled everything he knew and guessed at more. I wouldn’t believe a word he said once I strapped him on the water board. He would have said anything to make us stop. Most of my subjects would.”
The colonel sighed. “That’s usually how it is. How is he now?”
“He knows the penalty if he discusses what happened. There are no marks, and he’ll recover his composure in a few days.”
“Good.” The colonel glanced toward the ceiling. “I hate doing this, but others expect it. Mark
