"Fifteen? All in or just your fingers?"
Resist. Don't let him do this. You've been a medical guinea pig.
Hell, they may have even tried this drug on you.
My mouth wants to say something. I visualize myself going down on April Cassidy, the hot cheerleader a year ahead of me. "My tongue…"
"Tongue? Your first time at bat? I'm impressed. You must be a real lady pleaser. What was the occasion?"
"… Pool party. We were in the hot tub by the side of the house. We both were drunk."
Vaughn grins at me as if we were two guys swapping stories in a bar. "See, this isn't so hard."
No. It's not. I just think of someone else's story, in this case, a buddy of mine who actually did go down on April and visualize it in my mind — something I'd imagined many, many times.
"Okay, pal." He leans on the rail, lowering himself to my eye level. "You know, there's a division in the DIA where we try to get important people to sleep with our assets. Remember those Chinese Premier bastards I mentioned? That kind of thing. But you know, not all the people we go after swing like you and me. Sometimes you have to take one for the team. You ever do that?"
"… Homosexuality?" I say in drawn-out syllables.
"It's deep secret time. You can tell me."
"Are you a gay?" I ask drunkenly.
"David, the question is if you've ever done that kind of thing."
My voice is slow, like a tape played at half speed. "I… once got drunk with a friend… and held his cock while he peed… but there were girls there."
"Of course. That made it okay. So… was it thick?"
"Yellow…"
Vaughn lets out a loud laugh. "I meant his dick."
"… I don't remember…"
"How about the square? So you remember that?"
"Yes…"
Resisting is impossible. All I can do is overload my brain with other thoughts.
"I knew you would. Where is it?"
"… In the conference room… …"
"You dropped it there?"
"… That's where you mentioned it….."
"Oh, got it. You're being a little too literal."
Damn straight. I can only lie about what I can see and describe.
"Is that the only time you heard about it?"
"No….the man on the sat phone talked about it."
"What did you say?"
Think of the sat phone. "I don't know where it is."
"Did Peterson or Bennet give it to you?"
I just found the sat phone under the seat. "No…"
"Do you know what happened to it?"
"I broke it."
"The square?"
Damn it. I can't stop myself. "The sat phone."
His voice grows sharp. "David, we're talking about the square. Where is it?"
Resist. You are dead the moment he finds it. Visualize something else!
Anything!
"… Inside April Cassidy's pussy…"
Vaughn slaps me across the face. "You motherfucker."
My cheek stings from the slap and I feel a little more alert.
"Let me guess, did your little astronaut training help you resist that? You think you're really fucking clever, don't you? Let me show you how clever I can be."
He starts unbuckling the belts across my chest and rips the IVs out of my arms.
"Cardwell!" he shouts to the door. "Get Stilton and Hayes in here. We're taking this little asshole for a ride."
Light bursts into the room as the two armored men come in and grab me by my arms and drag me off the table. For the first time I realize I'm just wearing a hospital gown.
I try to resist by dragging my feet, but I barely have enough muscular control to support myself, let alone fight off two trained men who spend all day moving uncooperative prisoners.
They drag me down a set of steps and out of the room, which was just another box in the small city of portable trailers in the hangar.
It's fully lit with people going about their business, walking back and forth like it's a Costco.
I'm slid past an open window, my ass bare to all the world, as a woman leans over a desk and points to a computer screen as a man laughs and makes a note of what she said. Neither even bother to look my way. I'm a ghost to them. A non-person.
It's goddamn casual Friday around here and nobody seems to care that some half-naked man is being carried away against his will.
"… Vaughn is a traitor," I try to say as loud as I can.
He's a pace behind me, typing away on his phone. "Let it out, pal."
"… He's working for the Russians. Check his caller ID…."
"Keep talking. Nobody cares."
Cardwell holds open a door and bright sunlight blinds me as I'm yanked through the threshold.
The guards carry me across the tarmac and throw me on the ground.
"Maybe your astronaut training gave you some kind of resistance to that. I got other drugs, but time is really important. One more time, where is the square?"
"Dantooine," I reply.
"Dantooine?" He looks at Cardwell. "Where the fuck is that?"
"The Outer Rim."
"What?"
"It's a Star Wars thing."
"Jesus-Fucking-Christ! You goddamn Star Wars nerds." Vaughn starts kicking me in the stomach. "For fuck sake!"
Every blow feels like a distant thunderclap — but each one also helps me wake up.
Just lay limp, David. Don't let him know you're more alert than he thinks.
Vaughn kneels down and squeezes my chin, tilting my face towards his. "Anything?"
"… My stomach hurts."
"Guess what, asshole, that's going to be the least of your worries as I put you through my own astronaut training. Load him on the chopper!"
The rough asphalt scrapes my bare legs as they drag me across the landing pad to a Black Hawk powering up.
46
Airdrop
As we ascend into the air one of Vaughn's men puts a black hood over my head. My hands and legs are still free and I get the sense that this isn't done to keep our destination a secret as much as a surprise.
His masked-goons grasp me by the shoulders with my back towards the open door. The wind is really, really cold as it blows through my open gown.
We fly for about twenty minutes then Vaughn calls to the pilot to hover.
"David! Where is the square?" he shouts over the sound of the rotors.
My head is clear and I don't need to visualize anything to help me lie. "I don't know!" Right now my motivation is pure self-preservation. "Let me talk to your boss!"
"You're in no position to be asking for anything. Last chance. Where is the square?"
"Do they know you're working for the Ru…" I'm caught off guard by a kick to my chest.
I fall backwards and out the door.
Holy sh–
OOOOOOMPH! My shoulders hit the ground and all the wind is knocked out of me.
That had to be about five feet.
I feel the downwash of the rotors and pull the hood off. It blows away in the wind.
I start to pick myself up to make a feeble run for it, but the helicopter lowers and the guards jump out and pull me back in.
"Where's the hood?" asks Vaughn.
"He threw it away. Want me to go get it?" replies one of the masked men.
"Nah. I want him to see this. David, that was barely off the ground. Let's try ten feet? How does that sound?"
"Fuck you."
"I can take this all the way up to 15,000 feet if you like."
"19,000," I reply.
"What?"
"The service ceiling is officially 19,000 but you can probably go another two thousand." I sound cocky, but I'm scared as hell.
"Good to know. Maybe we try that with you?"
I see the ground drop a few feet through the window on the other side.
"Well?" he asks.
"I don't know."
"Fine." He stands up and braces himself between the seats and lets out another kick to my chest.
BAM!