by Chris Ryan
205
'What is it?' snapped Josh.
'A stun belt,' said Flatner. 'The cops use them on prisoners. Put one of these babies around them, then if they complain about anything you just press a button from up to a hundred yards away and the belt delivers an electric shock. 50,000 volts frying up your body from all sides. Well, that's usually the maximum dose used by the law enforcement boys, but you know what, I think they're just a bunch of pussies looking after another bunch of pussies. So I tweaked this one. Took it up to 100,000 volts. Makes things a bit more interesting. At the same time it's giving you a shock, it makes a noise like one of those car alarms. A hundred and ten decibels.' Flatner laughed. 'Your guts are going to be frying and your ears bleeding,' he chuckled. 'And you know what the best thing is? You won't even know when it's coming because you won't be able to see me press the button. That doubles the shock.'
Magic box, Josh told himself. Take yourself away to the magic box. That's the only way you'll get through this.
'Get the blanket, Mark,' Flatner ordered.
Josh watched as Mark unfurled a blanket that was already dripping with water.
Electricity, realised Josh. They're going to electrocute me. And they're going to put me on a wet blanket while they are doing it so that the shock is administered evenly throughout my body. Hold yourself together, man. This is going to be rough.
'Move your ugly butt, man,' said^/vlark. 'I need to get this underneath you.'
'Fuck off,' spat Josh.
Mark's boot slammed into Josh's shoulder, the leather top colliding hard with the collarbone, sending a harsh pulse of pain surging out across his upper body. Instinctively, he rolled away at the impact. As he did so, Mark laid the wet blanket on the ground.
206
'You're a dumb fuck,' shouted Flatner. 'You're going to have to learn to cooperate.'
The blanket was spread out on the ground now, and two cables had already been chucked down the hole. Mark had attached the end of one to the underside of the blanket, putting the other cable to the top side. Josh lay on the ground next to the blanket, unable to move any further away. 'Lie on it,' said Mark softly.
Josh remained silent.
'I said lie on it,' repeated Mark.
Josh tightened his muscles, preparing himself for the inevitable blow. Soak up as much pain as you can, he reminded himself. Never cooperate until you have to. Only total strength, total conviction, and total self-belief are going to get you through this.
The boot landed in the centre of his back this time. His spine shuddered under the force of the kick. And although he resisted, it was impossible to stop himself rolling forwards onto the blanket. Immediately, Mark strapped a rope across him, using what looked like a tent peg to stake it into the ground. Trapped, realised Josh. The juice is going to start flowing any minute.
'Give it five,' shouted Flatner, looking up towards the edge of the hole.
Josh braced himself. The first jolts of electricity started jabbing at his feet, followed by an assault on his shoulders. Within seconds his whole body was being tossed around. The senses had shut down along his spine, and it was the nerves at the end of his body that were taking the worst beating: each of his toes and fingers felt as if it were being set alight in turn.
Somewhere he could smell burning. My shirt? My skin? I can't tell.
A scream rose up, starting in Josh's gut, tearing through his lungs, and exploding from his lips. It's okay to show
207
pain, he told himself. It's okay to show fear. This is about survival, not about proving yourself.
'Cut it,' shouted Flatner.
A last surge of power tore through Josh's body, then faded away. He lay limp and breathless. The dampness of the blanket was seeping up into his skin, making his body itch all over. Small puffs of steam were rising up from the fabric, mixing with the already fetid air of the hole. Josh could feel some vomit rising in the back of his throat, but he struggled to keep it back.
'That was just a taster, pretty boy,' said Flatner. 'Just like a minor accident. The kind of thing that might happen when you change a light bulb.' He leaned down, the end of his beard brushing against Josh's skin. 'Now talk to me.'
You can beg, bargain, and plead, thought Josh. But unless you can give them what they want, they aren't going to let you
g�'I don't know anything.'
Josh was surprised by how weak his voice was already sounding: it was as if all the character and grit had already been shaken out of it. His throat was parched dry, and he could feel his body starting to dehydrate -- one of the most common side effects of electric shocks.
'I didn't want to hear that, Josh,' said Flatner. 'I didn't want to hear that.'
A pause. Josh tried to count the silence. Six, maybe seven seconds. A brief respite to prepare yourself for the next assault.
'Frying time,' shouted Flatner. A
Josh could feel his body convulsing violently as the wave of electricity rushed through him. It was impossible to say any more where the pain started and stopped: it was as if every nerve in his body was being attacked simultaneously. 'No,' he shouted. 'Please, no.'
Voice the pain, he told himself. You have to voice the pain. Let it all flow straight out of you.
208
^�P
'Cut it,' shouted Flatner.
The power dropped again, leaving Josh limp and lifeless. He felt as if all the blood was draining out of him. 'Now, pretty boy, let's have it,' said Flatner. 'Where's the kid?'
'Listen, you have to believe me,' said Josh, his voice raw. 'I don't know. I might have been in contact with him, but I don't know anything anymore. Take me through it step by step, I'll tell you everything that I know. I just don't know where he is.'
'Don't play for fucking time, pretty boy. I'm not that stupid.'
'I'm not playing for bloody time. I just don't know.'
Josh's hands were shaking like a pair of leaves being tossed around in a gale. Not fear, he noted. Part of the involuntary muscle movements you could expect after a long series of electric shocks.
This is going to get a lot worse, he thought grimly.
'Fry him,' shouted Flatner.
Another surge. Josh felt as if he'd been hit from the inside, as the pain exploded throughout his body. He closed his eyes, trying to think about the last time he'd been lying alone with Kate, imagining her hands running across his skin and her lips soothing away the pain. Anything, he told himself. Anything to take your mind to a better place.
'You ready to squeal yet, pretty boy?' said Flatner. 'Or you want me to soften you up a bit more? Get that tongue nice and loose.'
'I don't know, I tell you.'
Flatner turned around and started to climb the rope ladder. His massive body stretched it down, and he rose slowly as he slung one arm over the other. 'You're not a weak man, Josh Harding, I'll give you that. You're a tough stupid fuck. But you'll break, hear me? You'll fucking break. Because no man can survive the hell you're about to go through.'
209
The cover of the hole slid shut. Josh was plunged into darkness again. His body felt wet from the moisture on the electrocution blanket and from the sweat that had poured off him.
Stay still, he ordered himself. Let your body relax. Try to unwind, get some sleep. Only by resting can you hope to pull through.
Josh closed his eyes. All the time, he was worrying about the damage that was being done to his body. Even if he lived, it was impossible to tell whether he would ever recover properly: the electric shocks would leave burn marks on his skin, but those would heal. It was the long-term damage to his nervous system that worried him.
Then his mind was drifting. He thought about Madge, then Kate, but found that did nothing for him. Madge was dead, probably killed by Flatner, and Kate could weH be dead as well.
Who the hell am I? What kind of life will I have out there if I get Through this?
A jab of pain. Instinctively, Josh's body jerked upwards.
His bones felt brittle and strained. The pain subsided, and he fell back onto the wet blanket. Tears of misery and stress were starting to roll down his face. A vicious noise was rattling through the hole, making Josh's ears bleed with pain. The stun belt, he realised. They're going to keep me here in the dark, delivering occasional random bolts of pain and noise from the belt.
He started to remember some pf the other things he been warned about during his torture survival classes. The human mind is rarely so ingenious as when it is devising new forms of cruelty. The torturer's training manual ran to a hundred volumes. But the most effective techniques were all psychological, not physical. Sleep deprivation, sexual abuse, random beatings, all were parts of the armoury. A trained soldier could be expected to withstand a heavy load
210
of physical pain. Yet mental anguish killed even the bravest of spirits eventually.
There was no better form of mental torture than surprise. Sometimes a man would be blindfolded and then pushed downstairs, so that he couldn't see himself falling. Other times the torturer would strap his victim to a chair before assaulting him from behind. The stun belt was just a refinement of some age-old techniques.
While I've got this belt on, I can't sleep, can't relax, can't lower my guard even for an instant.
Josh rolled over on the blanket, looking at the shaft of light shining downwards as the covers were taken off the hole. He could see a rope ladder being chucked down and a pair of heavy black boots starting their ominous descent.
Another day in hell.
'Breakfast time, pretty boy' shouted Flatner.
Josh could feel himself coughing. Whether he had slept at all during the night he couldn't say. There might have been a few minutes when a kind of nervous exhaustion had overtaken him. But rest? No. That wouldn't be the word for it.
Because the stun belt had been triggered at least a dozen times during the last twelve hours. Short sharp attacks that left Josh feeling like he'd just taken a hundred thunderous blows to different parts of his body. There wasn't a vein left within him that didn't feel as if it was swollen and puffy. His eyes were bloodshot and streaming with pale liquid. Hunger was hollowing out his stomach. And the growing stench of urine within the hole was making his stomach heave.
'How you feeling today, pretty boy?' Flatner asked. 'Feel like talking?'
'I need some food,' said Josh.
'You need some food?' Flatner laughed, the roar echoing
fct
211
up the narrow sides of the hole. 'Shit, man. Should have called for room service.'
'I need food, and water,' repeated Josh. 'I'll bloody die if I don't get something soon.'
His throat burnt as he spoke. His tonsils seemed to be engorged, and his tongue had swollen. Every word was delivered through the pain.
'Well, shit, man, you're tugging at my heartstrings.'
'You're a fucking idiot,' snapped Josh. 'I'm no bloody good to you dead, am I?'
'You're no fucking good to me silent, pretty boy,' said Flatner. 'If you're not saying anything, you might as well be a corpse for all I care. Least I wouldn't have to listen to your fucking whining all day'
'Listen,' said Josh. 'I'm telling you, I can't remember anything. I need treatment. I need help. Give me that,- get my memory back, and I swear I'll help you.'
Flatner chuckled. 'You're a twisty little fuck, Harding,' he said. Tm not so dumb I'm falling for a line like that.'
'I'm telling you I need help. When I know where Luke is I'll tell you. What do I care about some stupid kid?'
'You'll tell me?'
'Of course,' said Josh. 'Just give me some food and water. Some rest. Get my memories back, and I'll tell you everything you need to know.'
A punch landed hard in Josh's stomach. The skin was already so numb that he hardly felt it. But he coughed violently, some bile rising up in his parched throat and landing on the back of his tongue.
'You need some more fucking pain, that's what you need, pretty boy. I'm going to fry you to within an inch of your life. Then you'll talk to me.'
Change tack, Josh told himself. Keep pushing every button you can until you find something that works.'I know who you work for.'
212
V
Flatner paused. 'I work for myself, pretty boy. That understood?' 'You work for Edward Porter, the boss of Porter-Bell. He's the guy who's paying you to torture me.'
'So?' replied Flatner, his tone amused. 'There's always somebody paying for everything,'
'There are several people who know about that. Anything happens to me, it's going to be traced back to Porter, then to you.'
Flatner laughed, then landed a heavy slap across the side of Josh's cheek. He could feel his jaw ache under the impact. 'Nobody's going to give a fuck about what happens to you, pretty boy. For one, you don't exist. And for two, by the time I'm finished with you even the vultures won't recognise you as a human being.'
Josh rolled back. He tried to think of some words, tried to summon up some memories, anything at all that he might be able to cling on to to get him through the next dozen or so hours. Most dying men cried for their mothers. He'd heard them on the battlefield, weeping for them as the bullets tore the life out of them. I don't even know who my mother is -- or was. Whether she is alive or dead.
I'm living for two things only. Finding out who is responsible for all that has happened to me in the last few weeks -- and then ripping their stupid brains out of their miserable heads.
Josh tried to bury his face into the hardened mud, desperate to find some way to keep the noise out of his ears. The decibels were screaming around him, making it impossible to think. Every few seconds, the belt sent a new shot of electricity up through his body. He jerked, then shook, as shock surged along his spine, shooting off along the main arteries within his body until they felt as if they were about to explode.
Then it stopped. Josh slumped forwards, catching his
fc
213
breath. The atmosphere within the hole was fetid and stale. Not a breath of air was circulating, and he'd been here for at least two nights now, filling the cramped space with the stench of his own urine and sweat.
Fear, realised Josh. That's the main thing you can smell in here.
Flatner had been down here twice more, taking a malicious pleasure in attaching the electrodes to the blanket. Each time, Josh had been subjected to a half-hour or more of brutal physical and mental pain: huge doses of electricity were mixed with beatings and abuse. Every round of abuse had been matched by another round of furious denials from Josh.
He doesn't believe me. I'll be dead before he realises the truth.
Josh started poking his fingers into the dried mud. It was impossible to say when the hole had been dug. Given that it hadn't rained for at least five years in this patch of desert, it could have been there at least that long. His fingernails scratched into the hardened earth. Maybe something has been left down here, Josh mused. A tool that I might be able to use as a weapon. Maybe a scrap of some old plant that I can eat. Or just a trace of moisture that I can rub against my parched lips.
A fingernail broke but Josh ignored the pain. Compared with what he'd just been through, it was nothing. He burrowed further, getting down one inch, then two. Nothing. It was useless, he realised, rolling over onto the blanket. The ropes tagging him down chafed against his skin.
The stun belt will start up again in a minute, just when I least expect it, he told himself grimly. Flatner will be back down, with more threats, more shots of electricity, more beatings. There's nothing left for me. Just the darkness and the pain.
I'm broken. That bastard just doesn't realise it yet.
Somewhere up above him, Josh could hear a scratching
214
~w
sound. One of the covers was moving. His heart sank within him. What was left of his spirit deserted him. Flatner, he guessed and another round of beatings.
A rope this tim
e, without a ladder, Josh noticed as his stare turned upwards. A figure was sliding down wards. Thin and dark. Not Flatner, realised Josh. Not Mark either. Maybe they're tired. Maybe they're sending in the B team to rough me up a bit.
The man landed softly, alighting on the ground with the silent agility of a cat. His gaze focused on Josh with a mixture of pity and curiosity. Now Josh could see him clearly. He was dressed in black jeans, a black T-shirt, and around the lower half of his face he had wrapped a black cloth. Whether it was to hide his face or to protect himself, Josh couldn't tell. Only his eyes were visible: brown, and gleaming out of the darkness.
Not a biker, thought Josh. Whoever the hell he is, he isn't a biker.
'Who are you?' said Josh hoarsely.
The man remained silent. He moved across to where Josh was lying. In his left hand, Josh could see the curved outline of a steel blade, its handle crafted in wood and ivory. The blade flashed forwards. Instinctively, Josh flinched, trying to prepare himself for the knife penetrating his flesh. Not butchery, he said inwardly. He'd heard of torturers cutting men open. Please, God, not that.
The rope sprang loose. Josh held his breath as the man cut one rope, then another. The blade on the knife was as sharp as a razor, slicing through the bindings with ease. One by one,Josh could feel his limbs released from their captivity. 'Who are you?' he repeated, his voice louder this time.
'Stay completely quiet,' said the man, his voice barely a breath above a whisper. 'I'm here to help you.'
For a brief moment, Josh wondered if he might be dreaming. An hallucination, maybe. He knew that happened
fc
215
to torture victims sometimes.The pain and the despair overwhelmed their minds and the victims slipped into trancelike states where they genuinely believed that they were being rescued. Josh closed his eyes, struggling to concentrate. He could feel the ropes snapping loose, and the man's hands on his chest rolling him across the dirt floor.
It's not a trance, he told himself. It's bloody real.
His eyes snapped open. The ropes were all cut now. Slowly Josh sat up. His body felt limp, weaker than it had ever felt before. The muscles were slow to respond to his commands, and Josh immediately started to wonder if he'd suffered some long-term nerve damage from the massive quantities of electricity that had surged through his body in the last two days.