a rusty brown mixture. "That is blood and I think feces and I'm sure urine as well." Zahir had seen many men shit themselves when interrogated, but he didn't think now was a good time to offer this knowledge.
"What was the big one's name, again?" Coleman asked. He had his phone out and was about to send the name back to the Intel Fusion Center. Zahir spelled it for him and Coleman sent the message. If Zahir knew who he was, it was likely the name would pop up in one of their databases.
Rapp stepped around the putrid liquid to get a better look at the two men. They both had bruised knuckles and their hands were swollen. Just beyond the bodies were two rubber hoses, more evidence that this was the place where Rickman had been interrogated. He counted no fewer than four bullet holes in each man. The image of the dead bodyguards lined up in the safe house came back to him. This murder scene couldn't have been more different. "Look at this," Rapp said to Coleman. "Remember Rick's four guys, each one with a single bullet hole."
"Yeah," Coleman said, "this was done by someone who was pissed off." He turned around and looked at the other two walls. As far as he could tell they didn't have any pockmarks from bullets. This wasn't a gunfight, it was an execution.
Rapp noticed the video camera and tripod knocked over on the floor. They needed Hayek down here. Rapp reached up and grabbed the lip mike from the side of his helmet. He swung it down and hit the two-way button on his Motorola radio. "Sid, this is Harry, over."
"I'm here."
"Did you bring any masks? It smells pretty bad down here."
"Yeah, I have some."
"Good, grab your gear and come on in. I'll meet you on the first floor."
"Harry," the voice crackled over the radio, "our boss is out of that meeting and she's not very happy with you."
Rapp's memory was still a little spotty but he got the feeling that this wasn't the first time she'd been mad at him. "Tell her I'm ninety-nine percent sure we found the place where Rick was interrogated. That should calm her down a bit. I'll meet you by the front door." Rapp flipped the lip mike back up and started for the stairs.
"This is pretty fucking ballsy," Coleman said.
"What's that?"
"We're a block and a half from the safe house. We're looking all over the planet for him and he was here, just a couple hundred yards away. I hate to admit it, but it's a pretty fucking smart move. Who would have ever thought of looking this close?"
Coleman's words triggered something familiar in Rapp's mind. His brain was still having some issues, like it knew what it was searching for but it was stuck in that pinwheel mode that a computer went into when it couldn't get out of program.
Coleman could see he'd triggered something. "What are you thinking about?"
"I don't know. I think something you said is important, but the old noggin still isn't working quite right."
"It'll come."
Rapp stepped into the other room and Zahir followed him. "Mr. Harry, are you satisfied?"
Rapp stopped on the first step and looked back at the corrupt police officer. He sighed and reluctantly said, "Yes, Abdul, you've done a good job." Rapp climbed two more steps and then thought of something. "Abdul, how did you discover these bodies?"
Zahir wanted to tell him that it was through his contacts, but he was afraid the American would discover the truth. The man was no longer mad at him, so he said, "We received an anonymous call at the police station."
"Anonymous?"
"Yes."
That sounded funny to Rapp. They were offering thousands of dollars in cash to anyone who could help them find Rickman. You would think someone would want to collect that money. Rapp shook his head and started up the stairs again with Ashan in tow.
"Mr. Harry, I would just like to say that I am sorry we started off on the wrong foot."
"Me too, Abdul, but maybe we can start over." Rapp stopped in the front entryway, sidestepping the robot.
"I would like that."
Rapp thought of something else. "Good. Now you need to find Mr. Hubbard. Alive preferably."
Zahir hemmed and hawed and then asked, "Is there a reward?"
Rapp should have expected it. Guys like Zahir never changed. "Fifty grand . . . maybe more, depending on how hard you have to work."