BooksBarbecue
Back The Frenchman
Chapters (76)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. AMIN
  5. PARIS
  6. … TWO YEARS LATER
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. CHAPTER FIVE
  12. CHAPTER SIX
  13. CHAPTER SEVEN
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. CHAPTER TWELVE
  19. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  24. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  25. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  46. CHAPTER FORTY
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  53. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  54. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  55. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  56. CHAPTER FIFTY
  57. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  58. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  59. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  60. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  61. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  62. CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  63. CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
  64. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
  65. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
  66. CHAPTER SIXTY
  67. CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
  68. CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
  69. CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
  70. CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
  71. CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
  72. CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
  73. CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
  74. CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
  75. CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
  76. EPILOGUE

The Colonel nodded, and the thug revved his drill and drove it into Anita’s left ankle; she passed out before the drill could stall inside her ankle joint. Another man stepped forward with a bucket of water and threw it on her, waking her up to her own pain as Black Shirt yanked the drill out of her ankle and revved it again.

‘Tell me what you want to know!’ yelled Amin.

‘You discussed the purpose of the missile range extension?’

‘Yes,’ said Amin. ‘I told him it was designed to strike Tel Aviv.’

The Colonel leaned on his forearms, looking at Amin. ‘From where?’

Amin paused. He was going to die, he realised, and so was his family.

The thug revved his drill and started working on Anita’s right kneecap. She arched against her chair, stifled screams muffled behind the tape. Amin could smell loosened bowels—Javed’s.

‘Have you told him where you work?’ the Colonel persisted.

Amin nodded. ‘Yes, they know about Noor Khan.’

‘What about this facility we’re in? Do the French ask about it?’

Amin’s bottom lip trembled. He could no longer look at his son.

‘Do they call it anything other than the Pakistan Agricultural Chemical Company?’ asked the Colonel, referring to the name on the building.

Amin gulped. ‘They call it the MERC.’

‘I see,’ said the Colonel, his face set in a rictus of disappointment.

He stared at Amin for several long seconds as the muffled sounds of a panicked seven-year-old boy emerged from behind duct tape. Then the Colonel nodded at the man in the black shirt, who moved to Anita, took the drill to full revs and drove the bit directly between her eyes, deep into her forehead. The blood spurted briefly and then ran freely down Anita’s pretty face, her limbs briefly jerking as the life ran out of her, her features frozen in agony.

Amin sobbed openly, unable to look at his dead wife. He turned back to his son, whose dark eyes were wide with terror and disbelief. The Colonel nodded and Black Shirt moved to stand in front of Javed. He revved the drill.

‘No!’ said Amin, as the drill hit the top of Javed’s left foot, splattering skin and bone as it disappeared into the flesh. ‘Ask me anything. I’m telling the truth. Please.’

The Colonel raised his hand briefly to stop Black Shirt. ‘The French know the missile is designed to reach Tel Aviv, but do they know from where?’

Amin took a deep breath. ‘They know it could be fired from Iran.’

The Colonel stared deep into Amin’s wet eyes. ‘You told the Frenchman that we’re working with the Iranians?’

Amin nodded.

‘Very good, Amin. Now we’re getting somewhere.’ He nodded at the thug, who revved his drill and aimed it at Javed’s kneecap.

PARIS

PARIS