Omega by Konkoly Steven

Author:Konkoly, Steven [Konkoly, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Suspense, Adventure
Amazon: B01N55RI2N
Goodreads: 33098999
Publisher: Stribling Media
Published: 2017-02-16T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

Oakton, Virginia

Karl Berg sat in the pitch darkness on a sturdy wooden chair, his hands tightly bound to its back and his ankles to its thick legs. He guessed the chair was somehow bolted to the wood-planked floor, since his earlier attempts to budge the chair had absolutely no effect. A concentrated earthy smell dominated the air. Dirt and mildew—his favorite combination. From the light cast by his captors’ flashlights when his hood had been removed, he’d noticed thick, rough-hewn wooden girders running parallel across the planked ceiling. The shafts of light played across a few vertical wood beams connected to the girders.

His best guess was that he sat in a farmhouse cellar in Maryland or Virginia, not too far from the D.C. Metro area. The trip hadn’t lasted long enough, and his captors had been in a hurry to reach this destination. They’d grabbed him off a public street, which always carried a risk. A random witness could call in the abduction, putting the police on alert. Anything was possible in a crowded city, so they’d expedited his journey to a prepared location.

Judging by his surroundings, Berg assumed this would be his final destination. The end of the road. Hopefully they’d start his interrogation with a long period of isolation to “deprive the senses and disorient” before moving on to less subtle methods. Fourteen hours ideally. His prospects were dashed moments later when a light spilled down a crudely framed staircase built along what appeared to be an ancient fieldstone wall. He was most definitely in an old farmhouse—with no Wi-Fi. Even the cellular service might be spotty out here.

Three men descended the stairs and approached, one of them activating a lightbulb between the stairs and his chair. The man let go of the string attached to the bulb socket and shook his head. None of their faces were concealed, a foreboding sign in this line of work.

“We have a lot of ground to cover, Karl.”

“Berg or Mr. Berg, please. Until we’re properly introduced.”

The man lashed out at him with a fist, connecting with his left cheek. The blow knocked his head back violently, straining his stiffened neck muscles.

“Don’t fuck around, Karl. I’m sorry. Mr. Berg.”

He got a better look at the man. Mid to early thirties. Athletic, but not overly muscular build straining his untucked, button-down long-sleeved shirt. Clean shaven. Closely trimmed hair—not buzz cut, but the sideburns had been taken too high. A former military guy that hadn’t quite figured out how not to look military. The other two looked the same. All three wore thigh holsters over deep brown or khaki cargo pants. High-end, subdued-tone hiking boots. Their look screamed paramilitary contractor.

“Just trying to keep things civil,” said Karl, forcing a smile.

One of the men chuckled. “Well, that’s completely up to you.”

“That’s usually the way this works,” said Berg.

“Good. Sounds like we’ve come to an understanding. You answer our questions and we keep things civil.”

“That depends on the questions,” said Berg.

The guy hit him again, a vicious downward punch striking his other cheek.

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