Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(97)
“Don’t worry, Leo,” Olivia said. “Nothing this * says can hurt me.” She turned to the * in question. “So why do it?” she prodded now that Johnny Boy was literally foaming at the mouth. The blood crusting around his ruined nose bubbled with each of his ragged breaths. And his one good eye glared feverishly. The bad one was swollen completely shut. Leo had sure enough done a number on the man. Maddy shivered at the memory of his huge fists connecting with the guy over and over again. For a while there, she’d thought Leo would beat him to death. SEALs? Yep, she could totally buy that. “For money? Is someone paying you to—”
Olivia didn’t get any further than that because Jonathan launched into a tirade about the “great evil that was the United States of America” and the “sacrilege of American combat boots setting foot on holy Muslim soil.” Then he went on to spout something about being “born to bring down the infidels” and “seeing his name burned into the annals of time.”
It was at that point in his rant that Wolf cut in. “You’re not a Muslim,” he said, a heavy dose of disgust lacing his deep voice. “At best, you’re a megalomaniac who wants a place in history. At worst, you’re a psychopath who glommed on to an ideology you thought would explain your need to wreak havoc on the world and justify your thirst for mass murder.”
“What would you know of Islam?” Jonathan hissed. “Allah commands us to slay the infidels wherever we catch them. To cut off their heads and their fingers!”
Wolf shook his head. “You’re mangling the scripture and quoting it out of context. Have you forgotten the Quran also teaches that Allah delivered Prophet Mohammed to humanity to make us more merciful to one another? And that Allah commanded you to take not a life because it will be as if you have slain all of humanity, and if you save a life it will be as if you saved all of humanity?”
Wow. Maddy wouldn’t have thought it to look at him, but the man knew his stuff. Jonathan obviously came to the same conclusion because he turned beet red under all the dried blood on his face and started spewing even crazier crap about murdering nonbelievers and cleansing the world through holy jihad.
Instead of rising to the bait, Wolf simply crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t pick apart pieces of a religion to make it fit your narrative. You either take it in context, as a whole, and with the knowledge that its historical significance has changed over the years, or you don’t take it at all. You’re worse than the radicals who are raised in the religion. At least they have the excuse of having been brainwashed by crooked imams. People like you—”
“Forget it,” Olivia cut in. “There’s no reasoning with a crazy man.”
“I’m not crazy,” Jonathan spit. “Just because I believe in something—”
“You are crazy,” Olivia interrupted, provoking a growl of rage from him. “And you’re a traitor. You do realize the penalty for treason is death, right?”
A vicious smile curved Jonathan’s busted lips. “And just think of the headlines. It will be the trial of the century! A CIA agent who managed for years to devolve top secret information and wreck countless missions. I will make you all look like fools. They will write stories about me, make movies about me. And my death as a martyr will—”
“See?” Wolf flicked a finger toward him, interrupting. “What did I tell you? Nothing more than a megalomaniac with a psychotic streak.”
Olivia sighed, shaking her head. “You’re right, Wolf. I just wish—”
“Wait,” Jonathan cut in. He’d been vibrating with fervor in his seat since they brought him in, but now he was eerily still. Maddy sensed something portentous was about to happen and sat forward. “Leo and Wolf?” He sent a one-eyed glance around the table. “Oh, this is rich. This is good. You’re working with the guys who were your cover in Syria? Did you tell them you made the decision that got their teammate killed?”
*
7:55 p.m.…
Olivia hadn’t realized she was tempting fate when she said there was nothing Agent Wilson could say that would hurt her. And she always thought the phrase “my heart sank” was metaphorical. But since hers was lying on the floor at her feet, broken and bloody, she realized it was an actual physical condition.
“What’s he talkin’ about?” Leo asked, one brow lifted.
“Leo, I—”
“You didn’t tell them, did you?” Agent Wilson crowed gleefully.
“Shut the f*ck up!” she barked at him before turning back to Leo. There was confusion on his face. And something more. A spark, just an inkling of suspicion, and maybe…hurt? Oh, sweet Jesus. This was her worst nightmare come true. She wanted to wrap her hands around Agent Wilson’s throat and squeeze the life right out of him. To hell with my aversion to killing! I’d put him six feet under in a second!
“Al-Ambhi, that rebel general in Syria,” she began, noting absently the gentle, unmistakable whir of a propeller-driven engine in the distance. The cavalry was arriving to take Leo home. Too bad they were too late to keep her from having to spill her guts and admit the whole, awful, unforgivable truth. “He wasn’t really working for the rebels. He was aligned with the Islamic State.”
“I know that.” Leo frowned. “And you found out. That’s why he drew on you at that meeting at his house, forcing you to kill him.”