"By whom?"

"The JIG."

"What is your definition of torture, Sergeant Brown?"

"That which inflicts serious pain, likely to be experienced by great bodily injury, such as the destruction of an organ."

"Is that definition something you made up yourself?"

"No, sir. It's SOP."

"Standard Operating Procedure?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know what waterboarding is, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was Mr. Khury ever waterboarded?"

"No, sir," said Brown, furrowing his brows.

"Do you know what dry-boarding is?"

"Yes, sir," said Brown, tensing up.

"Was Mr. Khury ever dry-boarded?"

"No, sir," he replied, blinking and scratching his nose.

"That motherfucker's lying," said Rick, after the day long deposition, as they soothed their tattered nerves with a couple of brews at O'Kelly's Irish Pub with their favorite escort Colonel Peppard looking on from the end of the bar.

"About what?"

"Waterboarding. Did you see him furrow his brows?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Alone, that micro-expression is not foolproof, but he also moved his eyes from up and to the right."

"And when he talked about dry-boarding, he went into a blinking fit."

"I noticed that."

"We've got the nurse tomorrow. That's when I'm really gonna need your lie detection skills."

"You can count on it."

As they spoke, Corporal Reeding bellied up to the bar. Brent waved to him, and he waved back. Corporal Reeding approached Peppard, and Rick and Brent came closer for introductions.

"I hope he's treating you well, Mr. Marks," said Reeding.

"He is, Corporal. Very well. This is my investigator, Rick Penn.

Penn put out his hand to Reeding, who took it with a firm grip.

"Good to meet you," said Reeding, then went back to pick up his beer at the other end of the bar.

Back at the tent, Brent and Rick were provided for their overnight stay, Rick opened his hand to show what Corporal Reeding had secretly pressed into it. He pointed to it and gave the "shh" sign with his finger.

Brent unfolded the paper and they both read, I need to speak with you, but it's impossible to do here. Will be on leave starting next week in Miami. Too dangerous to use phones. Can you meet me at the Colony Hotel in South Beach on Monday at 2100 hrs?

"It just keeps getting weirder and weirder." said Brent. Since they didn't feel free to speak about this latest event, Rick kept the note for safekeeping, to be discussed as soon as they were away from the base.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

The deposition of James Benson, the U.S. Navy nurse, was a rehearsed set of "I don't recalls." It was not very helpful, but interesting nevertheless because he was sweating profusely and looked very uncomfortable in his seat.

"Are you feeling alright, Nurse Benson?" asked Brent.

"Yes, sir. I'm fine. I've never been through this procedure before."

"You understand, I'm not here to trick you just to find out what you know about the case- don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"You were the nurse who last fed Mr. Khury before his suicide, is that correct?"

"Yes sir."

Nurse Benson went through the procedure used for the feeding, including the restraint of Ahmed, and the preparation of his feeding tube.

"Was the feeding tube lubricated?"

"Yes, sir."

"With what?"

"Olive oil. That was his choice."

"Is olive oil an approved lubricant for enteral feeding?"

"Yes, sir."

"By whom is it approved?"

"By my command, by SOUTHCOM."

"Then what did you do?"

"I asked the detainee what flavor of Ensure he wanted."

"You mean, you asked Mr. Khury that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did that make sense to you, Nurse Benson, that if the product was being delivered straight to his stomach, how would he be able to taste it?"

"We were required to give him the choice."

"I see. Then what happened?"

"I asked him if he wanted to play a video game during the procedure."

"Did he?"

"No."

"Did you expect him to?"

"Many of the detainees ask to play video games."

"What did you do next?"

"I inserted the lubricated feeding tube into his nostril and then commenced the feeding," said the nurse, as he wiped sweat from his brow. He looked flushed.

"Were there any complications?"

"No, sir."

"Did Mr. Khury complain about anything?"

"Yes, sir. He said the tube felt strange, but they always say that."

"They always say that?"

"Yes, sir." The nurse gulped, then nodded.

"Did he say why it felt strange?"

"No, but he did cough up the tube." The nurse smacked his dry lips, and then cleared his throat.

"Does that happen often?"

"Sometimes."

"Then what happened?"

"The detainee was taken back to his cell." The nurse leaned back in his chair, fidgeting.

"By whom?"

"Sergeant Brown."

In the break, Rick consulted with Brent in the men's room.

"He's lying."

"About what?"

"Everything except the choice of flavors and olive oil."

"He did look a bit flustered."

"A bit flustered? Dude, it was like you were force-feeding him!"

After the break, Brent went straight for the kill. He wasn't going to get anything from this witness, so the best he could do was try to show that he was lying, and to plant the seed of the truth in the jurors' minds.

"Nurse Benson, do you know of the term, 'aspiration?'"

Benson fidgeted in his seat and scratched at his neck.

"Yes, sir."

"You know that Mr. Khury was found dead the day after his enteral feeding, do you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Isn't it true, Nurse Benson that, during his enteral feeding, Mr. Khury aspirated his liquid Ensure?"

"No, sir," said Benson, going for a glass of water and sipping it, hands shaking like an 80-year-old with Parkinson's.

"Isn't it true, sir, that Mr. Khury became unconscious during his feeding?"

"No, sir." The beads of sweat were popping out on Benson's forehead as if he had been in a sauna for half an hour.