#22. AL MASBAK 2, OLD CITY, DAMASCUS, SYRIA
Sunday July 12, 06:25
ALI HAD stopped struggling against the ropes that bound him to the wooden chair in the middle of this mean little room. Instead he waited, conserving his strength whilst his brain hatched plan after plan, as it had been since understanding that Talal Hafez really did not know Hamza Madani and that Ali had been tricked, infuriatingly so. Maybe Hamza had simply bailed out and abandoned the mission. Ali shook his head. This he could not accept. Not yet anyway.
He had been brought at gunpoint to this pleasant medieval courtyard with its blossoming cherry trees, gurgling marble fountain, pretty hanging flower-baskets, neat, alternating stripes of brown and white bricks. Met by some men from the mosque and marched up to the second floor, he was stripped naked and searched thoroughly then tied to this chair in an empty, bare-floorboarded room. The early morning sunlight was poking enfeebled fingers through the dusty slats of the window shutters and casting barred shadows on his chest and legs.
He was a little scared. Talal was vengeful and crazy, particularly after Moussa's death and Ali's disabling of his gang. They had tortured Mokhtar and cooked his head in a tin. Was that his fate too? Shuddering, feeling nauseous, he tried to set the thought aside, and failed. What would it feel like, having your brain cooked? How long before you went mad, before something fused inside, before something melted? God Almighty, what would it feel like, for your eyeballs to melt like ice-cream in a hot hand? And what would happen to Fatima now he had failed? Would Colonel Ibrahim allow her to stay, or would he send her back to Iraq? What was Talal planning? Had Ahmed Ahmed received Hamza's messages?
Time passed. The angle of the sun changed. The merry splash of the fountain filtered through the shutters. Somewhere a clock chimed eight.
The door clicked open and Talal Hafez entered with Hisham. They both looked refreshed and alert. Hisham set a white plastic bucket of water on the floorboards under the chair then placed a large, blue rubber-covered box between Ali's feet. It was a twelve-volt, six galvanic cell, lead acid car battery. Ali's innards froze.
''Sala'am aleikum,'' said the Imam. ''Did you sleep well?''
''Well enough,'' Ali answered. ''I wondered when you'd show up, you weasel,'' he said to Hisham. ''Not man enough to join the fight but sneaky enough to come to the killing.''
Hisham merely scowled and uncoiled a pair of crocodile-clip tipped silver wires.
''Don't be a sore loser, Ali,'' Talal admonished. ''You did your best but now we need to know exactly who you are and what you are doing here.'' He pointed his hook at the battery which squatting like a malevolent toad on the floorboards, the two wires trailing now from each white powder-encrusted terminal. ''You will tell me who sent you and why.''
Ali shivered as the jagged lump of ice jumped into his throat. He was suddenly terrified. Hisham stepped between Ali's naked knees and stooped down with the wires. Wincing, Ali sucked in a sharp breath as the metal jaws bit savagely into his scrotum.
''For every answer you fail to provide,'' said Talal Hafez, ''Hisham will send enough volts to power a truck through your manhood. I hope you feel a lot of pain.''
''Thanks,'' grunted Ali, as the second set of teeth closed painfully on the tip of his penis.
''When you stop feeling pain,'' Talal Hafez continued, ''Your testicles will have melted.''
Ali's fingers gripped the hard wood of the chair. His buttocks shifted as his body instinctively squirmed away from the gathering storm. Hisham flicked a switch on the battery. A loud, sinister hum crackled into the silence. Ali felt a prickling tingle in his groin. Sweat broke on his brow and chest. God Almighty…and now, to make it worse, Hisham blindfolded him. Unable to see, unable to know where the other boy was, what he was doing, Ali felt utterly defenceless and totally vulnerable.
''So,'' Talal Hafez' voice seemed very far away, ''Who are you and why are you here?''
Ali clenched the chair-arms. How bad could it be?
''Fuck you,'' he said.
It was as bad as could be.
A desperate scream erupted from the depths of his soul as a giant hand yanked off his balls and a massive wave of overwhelming pain blotted out every other feeling, every other sensation, every other thought except what was happening in his balls, a tidal wave of agony tearing up through his body which arced and shrieked and thrashed in the chair and, although it could not have lasted more than twenty seconds, the pain felt like an hour.
Ali's head dropped. Sweat slicked his body, dripped on to his thighs. He felt his hair wet. He felt his cheeks wet. He felt his groin wet. His brain had been erased.
''Who are you and why are you here?'' Talal's voice, faint, indistinct, under water.
Ali's tongue felt like a huge chunk of rubber foam. His wrists and ankles throbbed from where they had smashed into the rope restraints.
Another shock crashed through him, battering his mind, shattering his bladder. He twisted, writhed, screamed until he thought his throat would be flayed raw. Pain coursed through every nerve, probing, poking, exploring, jabbing, intruding into every cell of his existence. He realised he was crying, tears soaking into the cotton blindfold.
''Come now,'' said Talal Hafez, ''Your name is Ali, you were born in Baghdad…''
Dimly, dumbly, he shook his head slowly, feeling his bones turn to water, his brain turn to mush, his bowels turn to slush, as for a third time the giant hand squeezed him, wrung him, flung him and tossed him on another wave. His heart raced and the sinews jammed through his neck like cords of steel but his scream was weaker now, and he passed into unconsciousness, head lolling on to his shoulder like that of some broken doll, a silver string of frothy saliva threading together his collarbone and mouth-corner.
He vomited twice down his naked chest. Hisham threw the bucket of water over him.
Outside he could hear the playful gurgling of the courtyard fountain and the merry tweeting of some birds. Inside was just more pain, more suffering, more smells, more tears. He was being emasculated, shock by shock. He would never father children. He was only fifteen.
''I'm only fifteen!'' he shouted defiantly. ''How can you do this to a kid?''
''When the kid is a threat to the revolution, a danger to the ulema,'' said Talal Hafez, ''Any means are acceptable.''
The fourth shock made his breaking, fraying body dance crazily in its bonds. His knees jerked frantically, his shoulders shook, his head snapped back and forth, as though the puppeteer were having a fit, as the pain swelled, fanning through him again. It felt as though a pile of bricks was being dragged slowly through the tip of his cock. He puked again and pissed down his leg.
Enough.
''I'M A SPY!'' he yelled. ''A SPY! I WAS SENT HERE TO SPY ON YOU!''
His chin hit his chest again as he heard a satisfied grunt from the teacher in the corner. Impeded by his thick rubber tongue and speaking hesitantly through his tears, Ali told them everything, about the Arab League's suspicions, Operation Flashlight and Hamza Madani.
''Thing is, Talal,'' He raised his blindfolded face. ''Hamza Madani has passed all the intelligence on to the Joint Security Council. They will be coming for you, probably right now while you're wasting your time with me. You're finished.''
''Perhaps,'' said Talal, ''But you will not live to celebrate.''
The hum from the battery intensified as Hisham turned up the voltage. Oh God, They were going to electrocute him!
''Wait!'' he cried, but the pain seared through him once more, sundering his joints, tearing him apart at the seams. His teeth rattled and his body juddered. ''Wait! I can help you!'' The voltage increased again and now it was not a shock coming in short, sharp bursts, it was a constant, a permanent force occupying his groin, invading his balls, setting up camp in his lower body, its fingers spreading, never-ending, never-relenting, never-stopping, roaring through his ears, on and on and on and on… ''Please! Let me help you!'' Ali screamed.
''You want to help me?'' Talal Hafez
asked coldly.
Ali screamed YES YES YES.
''Then die.'' Talal twisted the dial to its limit.
The current surged into Ali's shrinking skull and he passed out again.
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