Two CIA agents about to question an Iraqi woman about an American contractor recently killed by terrorists:
CIA Station Somewhere in Kuwait – Wednesday, April 12th, 7:41p.m.
“I’m sure he was a DUCK,” Gonz said as they made their way through the different corridors. Dr. McKay couldn’t help but peek into the various offices as they passed by. She saw people working on computers, talking on phones. This could be any work place in America, McKay thought. She had been surprised when the Gulfstream V had landed on a runway that seemed to her to be placed in the middle of nowhere – the middle of an uninhabited desert. When the plane door opened, a Humvee sat nearby waiting for them.
The Humvee had driven a few miles along a sandy track before coming to a gleaming white single-story structure with darkly tinted windows. While she had been surprised that they hadn’t landed in Kuwait City, she wasn’t surprised that the CIA had a secret base in Kuwait. After all, the Kuwaitis were still thankful to the U.S. for their intervention in the first Gulf War.
“Walks like a DUCK, smells like a DUCK, it probably is a DUCK,” Gonz said with a grimace. “But we need to know.”
McKay nodded. “DUCK” was the acronym for “Dead Upon Kidnapping.”
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