“Dealing with male prisoners,” Hartline began his lecture to a group of government agents, “is quite different from dealing with female prisoners. Man is and has been traditionally the protector of the home, the strong one. You must handle the male roughly-right from the beginning. You must assault his male pride, his virility, his manhood, his penis power. You take the clothes from him by force and leave him naked and feeling defenseless before you. He will immediately lose much of his arrogant pride.
“With a woman it is quite different. Use physical force with a woman only as a last resort. You order her to remove her own clothing. You demand it. Make her disrobe. By doing that her dignity has, from the beginning, rotted. That is a very important first step in dealing with a woman prisoner.
“Don’t allow them sleep. Interrupt a prisoner every few moments while they are trying to rest in their cell. They will be imagining all sorts of dire and exotic tortures lying in wait for them. Lack of sleep disturbs the brain patterns-disrupts the norm, so to speak.
“I will give you gentlemen an example.” Hartline motioned toward a man standing by a closed door.
The door opened and two of Hartline’s men pushed a young man out into the large meeting room. The man was in his mid-twenties, unshaven, red and bleary-eyed. He was pushed onto the small stage.
“Good morning, Victor,” Hartline said cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”
Victor said nothing.
“Remove your clothing, Victor.”
“Fuck you.”
Hartline laughed and motioned toward the two burly men. They wrestled the young man to the floor and ripped his clothing from him. They pulled him to his feet to stand naked, facing the roomful of strangers.
“You see, Victor,” Hartline said, “you are a baby. I can do anything I wish with you, anytime I choose to do so. Remember that, Victor, it might save you-or someone you love-a lot of pain. Now then, Victor, who is the leader of your cell?”
Victor refused to reply.
Hartline shook his head and clucked his tongue in a scolding manner. “Victor, why are you doing this? You know you’re going to tell me-sooner or later.”
“If you’re going to torture me,” the young man said, “get it over with.”
Hartline laughed, exposing strong, white, even teeth. “Oh, Victor! I’m not going to torture you, my boy. Oh my, no.” He cut his eyes to the man waiting by the closed door.
The door opened and a young woman was dragged into the room. Both Victor and the young woman had the same pale eyes, delicate features and skin coloration.
They were brother and sister.
“Rebecca!” Victor yelled. He tried to get to her. Strong hands held him firm. “You son of a bitch!” he cursed Hartline.
The mercenary laughed at him. “Tie him into that chair over there,” he said, pointing. “Hands behind the back, ankles to the legs.”
Hartline looked at the woman. Something evil and perverted touched his eyes. “Now, my dear, you may disrobe.”
“No, I won’t,” she said defiantly, holding her chin high.
Hartline chuckled. “Oh, I think you shall, Rebecca. Yes, I believe you shall.”
He picked up a small cattle-prod and adjusted the level of voltage. He walked to Victor’s side, then lifted his eyes to the woman. “Take off your clothing, dear.”
“No,” she whispered.
Hartline touched the battery-operated prod to Victor’s bare arm. The young man jerked and screamed in pain.
“Don’t do it, sis,” he yelled. “I can stand it.”
Hartline laughed and touched the prod to Victor’s penis. The man screamed in agony and thrashed against his bonds, his jerking toppling over the chair.
“All right,” Rebecca said. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll do what you say.”
“Good girl,” Hartline told her.
As she disrobed, Hartline walked around her, commenting on her figure: the slender shapeliness of her legs, the firmness of her breasts, the jutting nipples, and finally the mat of pubic hair.
The agents in the room whistled and made lewd remarks. Hartline smiled. “You see, boys. There are benefits to be reaped from all this. Or should I say raped?”
The men laughed.
Hartline ran his hands over the young woman’s naked flesh, lingering between her legs, his middle finger busy. He laughed at her embarrassment as his finger penetrated her. He glanced at Victor, now righted in his chair. “The name of your cell leader, young man. For I assure you, game time is over.”
Rebecca urged her brother not to tell him. “We’re not worth anything to him dead, Victor.”
“How astute of you, dear,” Hartline said. “But sometimes death is preferable to living.”
Doubt sprang into her eyes.
“Oh yes, my dear. I have seen human beings reduced to madmen, every inch of skin stripped from them-and still they lived, begging and praying to die. I have seen, ah, I do so hate to be crude … various objects forced into a man’s anus, including rather large penises. I have seen what happens to a man when a thin, hollow tube of glass is inserted into the penis and tapped lightly with a club. The pain is quite excruciating-so I’m told.”
She spat in his face.
Hartline wiped the spittle from his cheek and chin. “You’ll pay for that.” He looked at Victor. “Talk to me, Victor baby.”
Victor shook his head.
Hartline leaned down and kissed one nipple, running his tongue around the nipple, thoroughly wetting it. He straightened and placed the cattle prod on
Rebecca’s breast. “One of you will,” he said.
The rape had been going on for more than two hours. Victor watched as the tenth man mounted his sister as if she were a dog. He could no longer tolerate her screaming. She was bleeding from vagina and anus.
“All right,” the young man said. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Late that night, a man’s front door was kicked in and the man dragged from his bed. Later, the man faced Sam Hartline in an old office building. Somewhere in the dark building, a woman was screaming in pain.
“Mr. Samuelson,” Hartline said, “you have certain information I wish you to share with me.”
Samuelson shook his head.
“Don’t be too hasty with your reply, sir,” Hartline said. “Before you make any rash statements, perhaps you should visit your daughter. She’s just down the hall, entertaining some of my men.” He listened as the woman wailed in pain. “She is, ah, obviously not getting into the spirit of things, is she?”
“I don’t believe you,” Samuelson said.
He was taken down the hall. The screaming grew louder. He was halted in front of a closed door.
“Believe, Mr. Samuelson,” Hartline said with a smile. He pushed open the door, exposing the hideous torture of the man’s daughter. “Believe.”
Peggy pushed those stories from her, but fear kept
them faintly in her mind. Slowly, reluctantly, she began removing her clothing. “Ben Raines will stop you,” she suddenly blurted.
Surprisingly, Hartline did not lose his temper or hit her. “Could be,” he said. “He’s a tough bastard. And those people with him are fanatics. But Raines can’t do it alone. Hell, sweetmeat, everybody knows niggers can’t fight worth a shit, and greasers can’t fight any better. Only chance Raines has is to beef up his own forces with white folks. And he doesn’t have the time or the people to do that.”
Hartline cupped a breast, smiling as he squeezed. He pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger, enjoying the look of pain that registered on the woman’s face.
“General Raines has a lot of nationalities under his command. Lots of minorities in Tri-States-so I’m told,” she reminded him, relief on her face as he removed his hand from her breast.