CHAPTER SEVEN
11:45 a.m. Eastern Standard Time
McLean, Virginia
They met in a diner just across from the famous one-arch McDonald’s. The place was ten minutes from headquarters. Luke was there early, nursing a coffee. He sat in a booth at a big bay window, half-watching CNN on the big TV mounted behind the serving counter.
Luke had just spent two hours with Mustafa Boudiaf. He was having trouble getting it out of his mind.
The one place in the SRT headquarters where smoking was allowed was the interrogation room. They had given Boudiaf coffee and cigarettes, and he had drunk and smoked the entire time. But that didn’t soften him up any.
Boudiaf wanted a lawyer. Boudiaf wanted a phone call. Boudiaf wanted to know if he was under arrest. Boudiaf had apparently watched a lot of televisi
