Sean shook his head and turned away. “Nope. In fact, he might be able to help us.”
“This mission is highly classified, Agent Wyatt. No one else can know what we’re doing.”
Sean waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I won’t say a word.”
As the two agents walked down the hall away from Director Stone’s office, Sean flipped through the files. He stopped on a page with an image of Toli. He was staring off to the side, but his face was instantly imprinted on Sean’s mind. Ever since he was a child, Sean had possessed an uncanny ability to remember names and faces. He’d seen enough and passed the file over to Emily as they rounded a corner toward their adjacent offices.
“That guy is messed up,” Sean said, glancing at the file as she opened it. “Using children to fight his stupid war? I’d like to get my hands on him.”
She didn’t look up as she answered. “Pretty sure that’s exactly what the director expects you to do. Let’s just hope we can get in and out quickly. The last thing you want is to end up getting captured by a guy like this. I’ve heard some pretty bad stories from guys who were prisoners of war. And the more rogue the enemy leader, the worse it gets.”
3
The guards shoved Alberto through the door and watched him stumble then fall onto the moist concrete. They’d taken him up the stairs nearly an hour ago. It was difficult to see much in the room. The only light came from a single naked bulb hanging in the center of the ceiling. The power running to it was weak and produced only a faint yellow hue.
Fletch was sitting in a corner against the wall when Alberto crashed to the floor. The commander stood up and hurried over to his comrade. He put an arm under Alberto’s shoulder and tried to help him up.
Alberto shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m all right, Cap. Just give me a minute.”
“You sure?”
Alberto gave a weak nod. “Yeah. I mean, considering they just used me as a human punching bag.” He raised his head, and then Fletch and the other two saw what Alberto meant.
One eye — discolored a purplish blue — was swollen shut, like he’d just lost a boxing match to a heavyweight champ. A long cut oozed blood from his right cheek. He tried to sit back but immediately grabbed the ribs on his left and winced.
“I think they may have broken a rib or two.” He let out an agonizing sigh.
Simmons and Mueller huddled around, both putting a consoling hand on Alberto’s back.
They’d all received similar treatment. Alberto had simply been the last one to go. Fletch had been first. They beat him up on the first night and left him bleeding on the basement floor. Simmons had been next, then Mueller. Fletch had a bad feeling they were spacing it out to let the Americans recuperate for a few days just so they could put them through the torture all over again.
Toli’s lieutenants — mostly men over twenty-five — had overseen the measures taken against the American soldiers. They demonstrated to some of the boy soldiers and then forced the children to take part — just one more layer to the already deeply-rooted brainwashing.
“They didn’t even ask me any questions,” Alberto muttered.
“Just take it easy, buddy. Don’t try to move.” It was all the advice Fletch could muster. He’d experienced the same thing. Their tormentors never said anything to the Americans. They just wailed away at them.
The door to the stairs opened again, and the light from without poured down onto the basement floor, creating a bright rectangle. A long silhouette appeared in the doorway. Toli had come to pay a visit.
Fletch stood up, defiant, with fists clenched. It took all the energy he could muster to fight off the urge to charge the warlord.
“What do you want with us, Toli? Are you just torturing us for your own personal amusement?”
Toli clicked his tongue and wagged a finger left to right. “Typical Americans,” he said. “Always so shortsighted. Your people never think about the long term.” He laughed. “Of course, torturing is one of the side benefits of your being here. But the main point of putting you and all your men through that was to send footage of it to your leaders. And to the American people.”
“Didn’t think that one through, did you, moron?” Simmons snarled in the background. “You just pissed in a hornet’s nest.”
Toli drew his head back, staring at Simmons with curious eyes. “Oh, you mean the American public that no longer has the stomach to do anything? Sure, your faces will be plastered all over your news outlets for a few days. And then everyone will forget about you. You’ll be yesterday’s news.”
Fletch took over the conversation again. “So why keep us here? Why not just kill us or let us go? Honestly, I don’t care which. Listening to you talk makes me want the latter.”
Toli held up his finger again to emphasize his point. “Ah, because dead Americans aren’t worth as much as live ones. I have friends who will pay a pretty penny for the likes of you four.”
“Money?” Alberto spat. A little glop of blood shot out of his mouth and splattered on the floor. “That’s all?”
“Of course it’s for money. How do you think I’ll be able to finance my war, with bananas? Revolutions cost money. While mine is already well funded, a little more never hurts.”
So someone is backing this lunatic, Fletch thought. His mind raced with possible financiers, but with no way to narrow it down the endeavor was pointless.
“If you think you are going to make us beg, you’re mistaken.”
Toli squinted one eye. “Oh, I don’t intend to make you beg. I know you won’t do that. You and your little group are probably American special forces of some kind. I know well enough that you are trained to resist any form of torture I could put you through.
“Your public, however, will cry for you to be freed. They will demand that your government pay the ransom to get you back. Your families and friends will make sure it happens.”
Fletch gritted his teeth.
Mueller had been silent, but now he spoke up. “Our government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“I beg to differ.” Toli wagged his finger around. It was an annoying little habit that had already worn thin on the American leader. “Just recently, your government arranged the exchange of prisoners you’d been keeping since the September 11 attacks. They will pay. After all, it’s only money. And if Americans are good at anything, it’s spending money.” He ended the sentence with another laugh. It sounded like a blend between someone who was jovial and insane all at once.
“You think no one is going to try to come find us?” Fletch asked. “They’re coming. And if you kill us, they’ll make sure you pay. If you have half a mind, you’ll let us go. But I’m warning you, this is your last chance.”
Toli laughed, and two of the men nearest him joined in. “You are in no position to threaten me. I can see you have forgotten how much pain you were in just a few days ago.” He turned to one of his lieutenants. “Sachu, take him upstairs and remind him.”
Fletch grimaced as the men grabbed him under his armpits and dragged him up the stairs. The other three Americans protested but were kept at bay by the weapons pointed at them by Toli’s guards.
“You would be wise to keep your mouths shut, Americans. But don’t worry. This will all be over soon. I’ll have money to fund my war. And you will be free.” He took a step forward and his eyes took on an icy stare. “Or you will all die.”
He turned and disappeared into the stairwell. The door closed after the two guards followed. A second later the three remaining American soldiers heard two locks sliding into place.