Fireplay by Steve P. Vincent

Author:Steve P. Vincent [Vincent, Steve P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steve P. Vincent

Jack’s throat felt as if it was tearing open as he screamed out in agony. He tried to pull his hand back, to protect it, but the restraints kept it where it was – flat on the table and palm up, an easy target for the rod that had just come down on it hard and sent fire burning up his arm. He bucked against the chair, trying to free himself and screaming insults at his captors.

His nostrils flared and his eyes blinked quickly as the pain receded. His hair was soaked with sweat and stuck to his forehead. Rivulets of sweat rolled down his face, stung his eyes, and filled his mouth with salty moisture that seemed to mock his thirst. He wanted to see them, but a hood covered his head. They waited for the answer. Sure as death they’d ask it again in a minute, he wouldn’t answer, they’d hit him and ask again.

Best he could tell, he’d been in their custody for nearly two days, and the attention they’d given him was a painful exclamation point on the interview with Vacaro and the ANA officers. Their treatment had been harsh and had left him in no doubt that they wanted him to give them everything he knew. He was determined not to tell them about the Dropbox dump.

It had been easy to handle at first – no food and little sleep. Every time he’d started to doze off, they’d beam the lights down on him. That had graduated to not being able to use the bathroom and, when that had failed to garner answers from him, they’d started to hurt him. Fists and boots, followed by the rod. He’d had enough already and it had barely started. He wondered how any of the Afghan prisoners took much more than this.

An American voice punctuated his thoughts and his pain. “Tell us how to access the photographs you took and this all ends, Jack.”

His head slumped. He didn’t want to tell them about the photos, but he couldn’t endure this. He hadn’t filed the story and he didn’t have any sources to protect. The only thing he had to lose was a good story, but it wasn’t worth his freedom or his life. He wanted to hold out but they’d break him eventually. From what he’d seen in the cells at Navitas, there was a lot worse to come.

“I feel like you want to tell me something, Jack.” The voice persisted.

Jack raised his head. “I – ”

Jack was interrupted by pounding against the interrogation room door. He jerked his head toward it, even though he couldn’t see anything from underneath the hood. He heard a deep sigh from one of his interrogators and then the clicking sound of boots on the concrete floor. Jack didn’t think much of it until he heard several low, angry voices speaking.

He couldn’t hear what was being said, though the anger of his interrogator was clear. He shook his head and clamped his

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