The Ties That Bind r5-4

by Cliff Ryder

  Their trip didn't take very long, and soon the guards led them into another concrete room. This one was decorated, however, in the tasteful style of the Spanish Inquisition. It was going to be an interesting meeting, involving no small amount of screaming and bloodshed if the tools displayed on the stainless-steel surgeon's tray were any indication.

  Seated on a folding chair in the middle of the room was a massive man. His eyes barely flickered when they entered, and in Russian he instructed the guards to handcuff Tina to the manacles on the wall. They did so, hoisting her up so that her feet were dangling off the ground. It was fortunate she didn't weigh very much or her own body weight might well have dislocated her shoulders. As it was, Jason knew the pain must have been considerable. She kept her lips pressed tightly together.

  "What about him, boss?" Troy asked, shoving Jason forward a step. "Where do you want him?"

  "I hate speaking English to you, peasant," the man rumbled, "but you would not understand me if I spoke Russian, which is a beautiful language." He got to his feet and Troy involuntarily took a step backward.

  Jason followed suit, trying to gauge their interrogator. Aside from his massive size, which was all muscle, he was completely bald, with hard eyes so dark brown they were almost black. Thin eyebrows rode over the top of them and he had a hawk nose that had clearly been broken more than once. Several scars were visible on his arms, but the real eye-catcher was the grapevine scar that ran from behind his right ear, over his throat and down beneath his shirt. Must have missed his jugular by less than an inch, Jason thought. Too bad for us.

  The man wore BDU-style pants, and a black T-shirt that was stretched over his body so tightly that every movement probably came close to rendering it useless. "I will handle him myself," he said. "You may go."

  Troy and the guards didn't need much more encouragement and beat a hasty exit out the door.

  In Russian, Jason said, "I was hoping we could spend some time alone together."

  The giant laughed, his tone cruel. "No doubt we will, Mr. Siku, in due time." He gestured to the chair. "Please, sit down."

  "I'd rather stand, if it's okay with you," Jason said.

  "Not really," the Russian replied. He lashed out with one fist, and in spite of his size, the man was also gifted with surprising speed. Jason didn't have time to duck as the fist crashed into the side of his head, dropping him to his knees and filling his skull with a faint buzzing sound.

  He felt himself lifted into the air and set on the metal folding chair. He shook his head to clear it. "Wow," he said. "You don't play light, do you?"

  "I am Boris Ambros," the Russian said. "In Moscow, I am called the Siberian Bear."

  "If the shoe fits…" Jason muttered.

  "Yes, indeed," Boris said. "So, Mr. Siku, I want to reach an understanding with you. You are fluent in my language, so we will speak in the mother tongue. If you speak in English, I will break one of your fingers. Do it a second time…" he nodded in Tina's direction "…and I will break one of hers. Do we have an understanding?"

  "Yes," Jason replied in Russian. "We have an understanding."

  "Good," he said. "Now we can begin." He moved to stand closer to Jason, a slight smile on his face.

  "I'm breathless with anticipation," Jason said.

  The Russian laughed once more. "It is good that you have a sense of humor. We shall see if you still have it when we are finished here." He didn't wait for a reply, but dived right in. "You are Jason Siku, and you are a spy, sent here by your government. There is no question about this."

  "I already told your men, my name is Doe. John Doe. I am not a spy, but a traveling salesman. I sell high-end personal submarines to the wealthy Inuit people along the coast here. Don't you know they're actually loaded with cash?" Conjuring up some saliva, he spit on the floor, barely missing the toe of the Russian's boots. "Can I get a drink of water? The standard of care in your cells is horrible."

  Once more, the meaty fist lashed out, this time slamming into his jaw. Jason felt himself come out of the chair for a moment before he crashed to the floor in a crumpled heap. A groan escaped him as Boris picked him up again and set him back in the chair. It took all of his strength to not fall out of it again.

  "You are Jason Siku, and you are a spy, sent here by your government. There is no question about this," Boris stated again. "They will not come for you. They never do."

  Since he hadn't asked a question, Jason didn't bother with a reply. He knew what was coming and that he'd better start conserving his strength. When the silence stretched on for another minute or so, Boris said, "Good, you are learning."

  He turned to Tina. "Your man is strong," he said to her. "And smart. See how he saves his energy? In time, I will break him. Then…I will break you."

  That snapped Jason out of his stupor. "She doesn't know a damn thing," he said. "Why not stay where the action is?"

  "I am already aware that she knows more than she has told you," Boris said. "I had one of my men run her fingerprints. It is interesting to me how a woman so young can have two identities. We will explore that later, I assure you."

  Stunned, Jason said nothing. Had he been wrong about her all along? Who was she really?

  Boris repeated his stock phrase once more. "You are Jason Siku, and you are a spy, sent here by your government. There is no question about this." He stretched his hands, cracking his knuckles. "You will tell me which agency you work for and you will tell me everything you have learned, and when we are done, you will tell me anything else I want to know."

  Glaring into the man's eyes, Jason said, "Why don't you untie me? If you can beat me in a fair fight, I'll tell you everything you've ever wanted to know and more."

  "Why should I?" Boris asked. "You will tell me anyway, and this way, the only blood on my clothes is yours."

  "You're sure about that?" Jason asked. Even as the words left his lips, he lunged forward, snapping a kick at the man's knee. He felt it connect and Boris actually rocked slightly as the knee started to give.

  But the angle was wrong and Jason didn't have enough momentum to break it or dislocate it. Before he could try another move, from his half-kneeling position, Boris sucker punched him in the solar plexus, and the air whooshed out of his lungs in a rush. Coming upright, the Russian followed up with an uppercut that took Jason directly under the chin, knocking him backward and half-senseless.

  This time, the groan that escaped his lips was louder.

  "Playtime is now over," Boris said, lifting him once more. "Now we do it slow, instead of nice and fast."

  Before Jason could respond, the Russian slammed him down hard onto a steel table. From far away, he heard Tina gasp in shared pain. Boris quickly used leather straps on his ankles, then cut the rope tying his hands and strapped them down tightly, too.

  His air was finally coming back and Jason said, "Normally, I prefer to do it slow, but are you sure we can't go back to the nice and fast way?" Even as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. He'd spoken in English.

  Boris didn't bother with a reply, but simply reached out and snatched the pinky finger of his left hand and broke it like a winter-dry twig. Jason hissed in pain.

  "That is the first time," Boris said. "You have lots of fingers left. So does she."

  Jason knew it was useless. The mission was toast and sooner or later, he'd break. "Fuck you, Bear Boy," he snarled, returning to Russian. "You look more like a cub to me."

  That did the trick. The Russian roared in anger and drove his massive fist into Jason's rib cage. Bracing for the impact did little to make it better, and he felt at least one rib, maybe two, crack beneath the onslaught.

  Wheezing, he said, "Are you just going to beat me up? When are you going to start asking questions, maybe using all those tools you've got there?"

  Boris took a deep breath. "Those tools are for someone else," he said, calm once more. "First question. What agency do you work for?"

  "Several," Jason said, trying to mak
e it sound like an admission.

  "Which ones, then?"

  "Let's see…there's P.E.T.A.," he said. "I just hate seeing animals mistreated or eaten. And mere's the V.H.F.T.S., that's the Vegetables Have Feelings, Too, Society, and then…"

  He didn't manage to get the last one out as Boris once again punched him in the ribs. Nothing broke this time, but once more he was without air.

  "Which agency do you work for?" Boris said again.

  Trying to somehow swallow enough air, Jason tried to reply and found he couldn't.

  From across the room, Tina said, "I can tell you that." Her Russian was flawless, he noticed.

  She was trying to buy him time to rest, and get his wind back, he hoped, and she was also wrecking what little plan he had. If he made Boris angry enough to beat him unconscious, they might just toss them back in their cells and try again later.

  "Tina, no," he said. "Don't."

  "Please continue," Boris said, moving to stand before her. "You do not like to see your man mistreated."

  "You're right, I don't," she said. "He told me who he works for. I don't work for them. Never have. Can't stand the government, you know?" Her voice tone and pitch had suddenly changed into full-on, idiot-blonde mode. "I'd rather be shopping or going to the mall or…"

  The slap sounded like a rifle shot in the small room and Tina's voice was immediately silent.

  "I prefer not to hurt women," Boris said, his voice low and deep. "But for you, I make a special exception." He slapped her again, and Jason almost felt it himself.

  "You are Tina Kanut," Boris said. "At least, that is one of your identities. We do not think you work for anyone anymore. Who does your man work for?"

  By craning his neck, Jason could see her hanging on the wall. Her head was lolling and blood trickled from where her lip had been split. Boris moved to the table and picked up a glass of water, then crossed back to Tina. "Here, drink this," he said. "It will help clear your head."

  Tina gratefully took a long gulp of the water and her eyes regained some of their focus.

  "I have been kind to you, see? Now, you be kind to me and tell me who he works for."

  "He told me he worked for the CIA," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "Black ops or something silly like that."

  "It is good work, if you can get it," Boris rumbled.

  Wondering how a woman with Tina's background would even think to say "CIA black ops," Jason watched as Boris returned to where he lay.

  "I have met several of your comrades, Mr. Siku, under similar circumstances. They were weak."

  "I was pretty sure you had," Jason said. "You seem very practiced at this."

  "I will accept your words as a compliment," Boris said. "Second question. What interest does the CIA have in this region? Why did they send you?"

  "That's two questions," he said. "You only get one at a time."

  Things got kind of hazy for a time after that. When Boris wasn't asking him questions or hitting him, he would move back to Tina and slap her around some. After a time, Jason had revealed that, yes, he worked for the CIA. Yes, he worked in the black ops division. Yes, they knew all about the submarine and he'd been sent here to confirm it. It was nothing they didn't already suspect or know.

  Once, he asked for his phone call and a lawyer, which earned him another good pounding.

  As he came to from that one, the first sound that registered was the very nearby whirling of helicopter blades. In fact, they sounded as if they were right on top of him. He opened his eyes and realized that the sound had stopped. The chopper was either shut down or gone.

  "Ah, that is sad," Boris said. "Our time is at an end. Soon, you will meet the man I work for."

  "I thought you were the boss," Jason said, his voice a croak. "That's what all the boys kept saying."

  "No," the Russian replied. "I am his second-in-command, a lieutenant, if you will."

  "So, who's the big boss?" he asked. "When can I meet him?"

  "You will meet Feng Li soon enough," Boris said. "And you will not have as much fun with him as you have with me."

  "Oh? Why's that?" he asked.

  "Because Feng Li is the man who owns the tools on the fray. He will peel back your skin one layer at a time until you tell him anything he wants to know, Mr. Siku. I have seen this many times before."

  "Everyone needs a hobby. Besides, what else can I tell him that I haven't told you?"

  "The truth," Boris said. "You have not told me anything I did not already know and you have told me lies, as well." He moved to the door and opened it, gesturing for the guards to step inside. "Take them back to their cells. Mr. Li will want to see them soon, but not just yet."

  "Yes, sir," they said.

  Neither prisoner could walk back to the cells, so the guards dragged them instead. There was no point in resisting. Tina probably couldn't feel her legs and had been knocked around pretty good. And Jason had taken worse beatings, but not many that he could remember.

  He glanced at Tina and saw that she was looking at him.

  "Who are you?" he mouthed, but she shook her head.

  The guards returned them to their cells and tossed them inside, locking the doors once more. Lying on the cold concrete floor actually felt soothing to Jason's battered body. He crawled closer to the slot in the door.

  "Tina," he said. "Can you hear me?"

  "Yes," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

  "Who are you?" he asked. "Really?"

  "Tina Kanut," she said. She sounded tired. "I've told you that already."

  "Your Russian is flawless," he said.

  "Thanks," she muttered. "I practiced hard to learn it."

  They were both silent for a few minutes, the exhaustion setting in.

  "I know that name," Tina finally said. "Feng Li. I know that name."

  "How?" he asked. "From where?"

  "I'm too tired, Jason," she said. "I can't think right now. I can't place it, but I know it."

  "You need to tell me who you really are, why Boris said you have two identities," he said.

  "Ask me again," she replied, "but after I've rested."

  Then she went silent and while he was waiting for her to say something more, he fell into sleep himself.

  The dreams were not good.

  16

  Consciousness returned slowly. The first thing Jason was aware of was the icy cold of the concrete floor, but the idea of getting to his feet seemed out of reach. A frustrated groan passed his lips and he struggled to his knees, trying to ignore the various pains the pounding Boris had given him.

  He wondered how long he could hold out, how long Tina could hold out, but the answer was moot. The truth was that he'd hold out as long as they wanted him to.

  "Tina," he called. "You awake?"

  "Jason!" she said. "I've been calling your name for a half hour. I thought…I thought maybe you were dead."

  "Not yet," he said. "But I've felt better."

  "I was thinking maybe they came for you while I was asleep, and they'd killed you."

  "Ha!" he managed to say. "Like they could."

  "You still have the strength to be a smart-ass?" she said. "That sure helped you with Boris."

  "Well, if you can't laugh when you're being tortured, when can you laugh?"

  He could hear her pained giggle, followed by a few groans.

  "How are you holding up?" he asked.

  "I've been better myself," she said, "but it's nothing that I can't handle so far. I think they are playing with me for fun. Boris and Chris both know I don't have the information they're looking for, and the Russian found me a dull playmate." She paused, then laughed again. "You know, I think Chris is just pissed that I turned him down for a date. I knew that some people didn't take rejection well, but this does seem a little extreme."

  Jason laughed and felt some of his tension ease away. If she could hold up just a little longer — he knew he could — then perhaps they'd figure a way out of this mess yet.

>   A slow scraping sound was followed by a loud crash in the hallway, and Jason dragged himself to his feet.

  "Sounds like our boys are getting a bit rowdy out there," Tina said. "Is that a good sign or a bad one?"

  "I don't know," he said. "Stay on your toes."

  Heavy footsteps sounded outside their cell doors, and Jason knew it was a sound that he wasn't likely to forget in this lifetime. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. Boris had already had his go at him, which meant they were probably coming to get him for Feng Li.

  Boris didn't seem like the kind of man to lie. Feng Li would undoubtedly be worse. It was likely he wouldn't survive an interrogation with whoever the mystery man was. He was going to have to make his move now, before it was too late. Strapped down to a table, he wouldn't accomplish anything.

  Jason stretched his arms and legs, trying to ease the cramped muscles. Despite his injuries, he could still fight and he felt a tight grin pass his lips.

  Outside his door, he heard a familiar voice say, "How do we get them out of those?"

  "I don't know," a second voice replied. "I thought you would know. Don't you work for these guys?"

  Jason cocked his head. That last blow from Boris must have done more damage than he thought, because it sounded like Jesse.

  "Grandfather?" Tina whispered.

  Jason heard steps scurry to her cell.

  "Grandfather, what are you doing here?" she demanded.

  "Getting you out," he said, his voice gruff. "We just have to figure out how to get these doors open."

  "Hey, guys," Jason called.

  "Maybe if we smash the keypad the door will unlock," Jesse said.

  "No," her grandfather argued, "that will keep them in there forever."

  Jason couldn't believe that they were ignoring him. "Jesse!" he yelled.

  "What?"

  "The door code for Tina's cell is 1142658."

  "How do you know that?" Tanuk asked.

  "Trust me," he said, sighing. "I just know."

  Jason heard the tones of the keys and her door springing open from its lock.

  "What's the code for your door?" Tina asked as she ran to open it.