Page 7 of Just Once

After he’d been lifted, caught trying to ford a flooded riverway during a sudden downpour, he’d been blindfolded and locked in a shed somewhere out in the rocky black arsehole of nowhere. There, interrogators acting the part of IRA heavies, set upon him, softening him up before the men in white coats came in to explain the facts of life.

Though they did no lasting damage, they had had a way of getting under his skin and making him forget it was just an exercise.

The lesson was simple. Everyone talks, sooner or later.

Training and will power could only carry a man so far, but the human body was only a machine. Apply enough pressure and eventually it would break. And torture was as much about psychological strain as physical pain. Sometimes just the very idea of what awaited them was enough to break a prisoner.

And if that failed, they could always pull a few teeth.

Yeah, he could take it for now. Compared to those few days in that Welsh cabin, a few hours with the Poster Boy would be like getting snowed in a skiing chalet with Kate Beckinsale and Kaley Cuoco. However when they sent in the men in white coats, with sponges hooked up to car batteries, it would be just a matter of time.

Or of course, he could save himself the pain and try something they never put in the Training Manual.

“Then perhaps you should try asking me something ” Terry hissed. “How can I answer your questions if I don’t know what they are?”

It was worth a shot. There was nothing covert about his work in Berlin, they were all on the same side here, even if the krauts didn’t know it yet. Maybe he could bluff his way through.

The Fräulein on the screen arched a brow, her face wrinkling with irritation. “You know what we want.”

“I don’t.”

“Where’s the girl?”

“I don’t know.” Not exactly an answer worthy of Tyrion Lanister, but it was better than a shrug, though he wouldn’t have been able to do that chained to this chair.

He knew where she wasn’t anyway.

She wasn’t where she should have been. If she had, he would probably of been on his way back to jolly old London about now, with a bank account an awful lot fuller. And just two mates to bury, instead of three.

“You were apprehended trying to escape.” A blonde, thin man on the far right of the monitor pipped in, sitting so straight he looked like his back might snap at any moment.

Terry couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice at that little interruption. “No, I was questioning her kidnapper. Your man interrupted us before I could get the location out of him.”

“And what were you doing in Berlin?” The woman asked.

“We have a K&R consultation contract with Crosswind Insurance- they hired us to resolve the matter.”

“K&R?”

“Kidnap and Ransom.”

“And how are they involved?”

“The girl’s father has kidnap insurance with them.”

“And who is her father?”

“Otto Von Strom. You probably know him; I believe he’s rather big in your Federal Ministry of Finance.”

“And why did he not follow official procedure? Why did he not bring it to us in the beginning?”

“Do I look like his receptionist? How am I supposed to know, why don’t you ask him yourself?” Feeling his temper start to rise, Terry took a deep breath. He needed to think, keep calm. “Look, Von Strom’s daughter was kidnapped September 7th 2019. Crosswind were notified of the girl’s abduction, then they contacted us. Proof of life was supplied with the initial ransom demand for five million US dollars. My boss made contact, and over the next 31 days, negotiated the final demand down to $500,000. Everything was going like clockwork until it was time to make the exchange on October 10th.”

“And then what happened?”

If looks could kill, the look Terry gave her then would have splattered brains across all those immaculate grey suits. “What do you think happened Fritz, we got fucked.”