Birth of an Assassin, Books 1-3: Killer Plots and Powerful Characterization (Birth of an Assassin - the series) by Stone Rik & Stone Rik

Author:Stone, Rik & Stone, Rik [Stone, Rik]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Silver Publishing
Published: 2017-04-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Another day, maybe the same day, Mehmet was woken by the clattering of the cell door. Without thinking, he stretched and yawned. His jaw had locked and the hinges creaked in unison with the pain. To round off his woes, he let his tongue clack on the roof of his mouth and activated the foulest of tastes. His shoulders sagged in submission; he wondered if his situation could get any worse, and knew it could.

A guard stormed over and rousted him to his feet. He had no idea how long it had been since he’d eaten, but for now dizziness had the upper hand. He lost balance, tottered uncertainly and the guard, being the compassionate kind, pulled him roughly from the cell.

“I didn’t say you could go wandering, did I?” he said, bouncing him against a wall as he spoke.

Jostled and shoved, Mehmet was taken to the interrogation room where they kept the metal chair. Yagmur was already there and was rifling through her bag of tricks, but she stopped to look up at him. He tried ignoring her, while looking around the room. It appeared to be the same room, but the chair had gone and a tin bath had taken its place. And there was just enough water in it to cover the base. A pedal generator had been set up in the corner opposite the small table; a bicycle with the back wheel spindle rigged up to a motor had two clamps with corresponding cables coiled up on the floor next to it. Mehmet wanted to be scared; he should have been, but he felt nothing. His spirit had crumbled. His face and head hurt, his body ached and he could have been about to die, but he really didn’t care.

“You won’t get much from this one,” the guard said. “He nearly collapsed on the way here. He hasn’t eaten for a couple of days.”

“That isn’t your concern,” Yagmur said, foreboding. “Just pedal the generator when I tell you to.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Oversized, the guard’s great bulk looked ridiculous as he mounted the bike.

“Not yet,” she hissed. “Secure him in the bath first, you fool.”

He lumbered his way off the contraption. “Yes, Doctor. Sorry, Doctor.” In seconds, he had released the chains from Mehmet’s manacles and stripping him naked, forced him into the bath and shackled his ankles and wrists to holes on either side of it. The water was cold and Mehmet shivered miserably. The guard got back on his bike and the hunchback clipped the clamps to the manacles then told him to start pedalling. In seconds, Mehmet’s fists had clenched and his toes curled. But his head sagged. He rolled his eyes up to Yagmur and saw her put up a hand.

“He’s supposed to drop his head when the voltage stops, not while you’re generating it,” she said. “You just might owe the guard a favour, Mehmet. Maybe you are too weak for this. You don’t look so good. And we don’t want you dying on us, not yet.

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