The car keys wrenched from Hababe Hussein’s fingertips fall to the ground in the Wal Mart parking lot. At the same moment glued to his computer monitor at the Arcadia Operation, Dr. David Justin makes the sound of keys hitting the ground come alive in his mind. Mouse click, Justin puts his computer into sleep mode, locks the door to his office, and heads down the hall to meet his latest challenge.
Ex-military and a psychiatrist, David Justin is now in charge of the operation in Arcadia, California, the smallest of the four covert prisons operating in the United States. It holds up to 22 prisoners at a time. These are the prisoners that need to fall off the face of the earth, one at a time. When they do, usually courtesy of the CIA, they come to places like Arcadia, California, or Dearborn, Michigan, Chicago or New York. And, the Arcadia prison is minute compared to some overseas.
Hababe Hussein sits on a steel chair in the center of a cold, gray room. His hair drips as ripples settle in the tank of water behind him. His eye is bruised and a trickle of blood runs from the corner of his mouth.
"Well?" David Justin adjusts his latex gloves. "Who is the ringleader? How long were you planning this?"
Hussein coughs and stares at his captor's blue shirt and yellow smiley button; he knows he will never again "forget" to pay for a pack of Twinkies.
Opening: Wendy.....Continuation: ril