Capitol Conspiracy

45

Loving had no idea how many times they had repeated the cycle. They tortured him until he passed out. Then they used buckets of ice-cold water and drugs to revive him, and then they tortured him again. He had lost all sense of time, all sense of purpose. He could barely think. All he could do was feel the pain. He had hoped that eventually he would become numb to the hurting, but unfortunately, with each new iteration, his body felt weaker, his resistance lower, his power to tolerate this agony diminished. He had no idea how much longer he could last. But he knew it would not be forever.

He would like to think he was being strong to protect his friends-Ben, Shohreh-but at this time, he wasn’t sure he was capable of any such self-sacrifice. The only thing that kept him in the game was the certain knowledge that if he did tell the General what he wanted to know, the sadist would surely kill him.

Unfortunately, death was beginning to seem very attractive.

For the last several sessions, Loving had gone into total lockdown mode, not saying a word. He had taken the “elusive answer” routine as far as he could possibly take it. There were no more satisfactory answers, and wisecracks were clearly not appreciated, so he just remained silent-other than the constant screaming like a woman that embarrassed him so. But he couldn’t help himself. Even though his work had always put him in the line of danger, he’d never experienced an ordeal like this, nothing so prolonged or intense or…skilled. Never.

At one point, he tried playing dead. He thought he did it well-an Oscar-caliber performance. But the General was not fooled. Physical abuse tended to be stimulating, especially as long as they stayed away from the head and the genitals, and there was plenty of pain that could be inflicted without entering either of those regions. When Loving continued to play dead, the General kicked him and spat on him and eventually injected him with something. Epinephrine, perhaps? Or strychnine, for all he knew. At any rate, playing possum was no solution.

He had also hoped that if he held out long enough, the General would become bored, or would realize that all his efforts would never produce the information he wanted. Unfortunately, the General was a narcissistic little sadist who enjoyed what he was doing and was supremely confident that he would be successful. He would never stop, not till he had what he wanted. Loving would just have to bear it. Hold out until he couldn’t hold out any longer. Or until they killed him in the process.

“You want to blame me. But this is your own doing,” the General said, as he artfully drew a line of blood down Loving’s exposed back with a knife. Loving writhed in agony with each touch. “You invaded my house, my business. You tried to steal my girls.”

Loving knew he should remain quiet, but he couldn’t help himself. “You’re just makin’ excuses. You’re lovin’ every minute of this.”

“In fact, I am not. I have many other duties that require my attention. But I can make no decisions until I know to what extent you have jeopardized my operation.”

“That’s a load of bull, you psycho.”

The General’s eyes narrowed. “Psycho. You dare accuse me of that, of enjoying this? Did we invade your country, you stupid American? Did we destroy your way of life? You complain of what I do to you, but it is nothing compared to the torture you self-righteous Americans inflicted at Abu Ghraib and Gitmo Bay.”

“That was war.”

“And what is this? Do you think my cell was organized just to provide for the needs of those with special sexual interests?”

“I thought you used your sex shop to finance your terrorism,” Loving said, biting back the pain. “But now I wonder if I didn’t get it backward. Maybe the terrorism is the excuse you use to conduct a sick business that gets your rocks off.”

The General touched the cattle prod to Loving’s face, just below his right eye. All at once, Loving’s eyesight short-circuited. The world went black. He screamed.

“I do what I do at the behest of others,” the General said softly. “With their full support and cooperation. But perhaps you already knew that. All the more reason I must know what you know.”

Loving was blind, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “No.”

“Do you know the shooter? The man at Oklahoma City?”

“I’m guessin’ it was Emil.”

“You would be wrong. It was Emil’s brother. A most loyal man.”

“Why isn’t he here for the fun? You must not like him as much.”

“Mikhail is preparing for the next assault. The one that will plunge your pathetic country into chaos. The execution that I have guaranteed will be completed.”

Guaranteed? Loving wondered, through his fogged and pain-muddled brain. To whom? He said he worked at the behest of others. Did that mean the General was not at the top of the food chain?

“How much do you know about my associates?”

“I’ve said all I’m gonna say.”

The General chuckled. “I doubt it.”

Even without seeing it, Loving could sense the prod coming closer to him.

“I tell ya, I’m done.”

“It will go easier on you if you talk.”

Loving hesitated. “You mean you’ll let me go if I tell you what you wanna hear?”

“No. But it will go easier on you. I will kill you quickly.”

Loving pretended that wasn’t tempting and kept his mouth shut.

“I do admire your resilience. You have behaved honorably. You have shown considerably more fortitude than did your former director of Homeland Security. But there comes a time for all things to pass. This is it. You must tell me what I want to know or I will take more than your eyesight. I will take your manhood. Permanently. I will take your fingers, one by one. I will cut off your feet. I will burn you. But I will not let you die. I will never let you die, even when you beg me for it. I will simply whittle away at you, piece by piece, until you have told me what I want to know.”

“If I ever get loose,” Loving said in low tones, “you are a dead man.”

“This I do not doubt,” the General said. “But alas-you will never get loose. Emil? Please assist me. Open the captive’s mouth.”

The assassin stepped forward and grabbed Loving’s head by the hair. With the other hand, he forced Loving’s jaw open. Loving tried to resist, but he was too weak.

Slowly, the cattle prod made its way toward his mouth. When at last it was inside, the General activated it.

There was no way Loving could describe what he experienced. It was as if he had been turned inside out, electrocuted from within. He couldn’t even scream with the damn thing gagging him. And the General did not relent. He did not remove the prod, even as the cold electricity burned Loving’s tongue and loosened his teeth. When at last oblivion did come, he was glad. Even though he knew it was only a temporary respite, he was glad for this one small mercy.