Blackout (27 page)

The jab, thought Josh. They've put something into me to try and bring my memory back. They want me to remember everything - so they can squeeze the information out of me.

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And the worst of it was this: it was working.

Since he'd been awake, Josh's mind had been working with new clarity. He knew that his name was Josh Harding. He knew that he was a serving soldier in the Regiment. He couldn't say for certain, but he thought he was about thirty. He knew he'd been in the Army for twelve years, and in the special forces for five. And he knew that he'd seen Azim before - and tried to kill him.

I am a long way from a full recovery. But it's starting. My memories are coming back. And that's going to make this a hundred times worse. Flatner couldn't break me because there was nothing to break. Now I'm going to have to use will-power to make sure that I don't tell them anything.

I have to learn how to take my secrets to my grave.

Azim reached out for a pear from the fruit bowl. He took a knife and started peeling it, offering the fruit in cubes to Josh. 'The Prophet teaches us when to be merciful and when to be cruel,' he said. 'First we take care of you, then we bleed you for the information that we need. That is our way.'

Josh took a slice of the pear. He could feel the fear eating away at his gut: nothing had happened yet, but he could be certain that it would. 'I know nothing,' he said. 'You saw the beating I took from those bikers. If I didn't tell them anything, I certainly won't tell you anything.' He looked up towards Azim, his expression hardening.'I'm a British soldier. I know when I'm done for, and I'm enough of a man not to complain about it. So if your fucking Prophet is so merciful, just kill me now and get it over with.'

'Brave words, Josh,' said Azim. 'And soon we'll set about our gruesome business. Then we'll see if the strength of your spirit matches the strength of your language. But first, I should make you an offer. You should understand that I am not a cruel man. I take no pleasure in what is about to happen. Talk now. Save yourself the pain that is about to come.'

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'Piss off.'

Azim clasped his hands together, as if in prayer. 'The torturer abandons his humanity as much as his victim does. Spare us both the indignity. Talk to me now. Tell me where Luke is.'

'I don't know,' spat Josh. 'And if I did know, what's the bloody point of telling you? You'll kill me anyway. You're not going to release me. Not now that I know you're here.'

Azim nodded. 'Of course,' he replied. 'Your demise is inevitable now -- we both know that. And let me assure you, in a few hours' time you'll welcome it more eagerly than you ever welcomed a woman into your bed. Death is not so frightening to men such as us. An honourable death -- what more could a warrior ask for?'

Azim paused, turning away from the bed and walking to the back of the room. He reached around the half-open door, collecting a small wicker box, then turned back towards Josh. 'But there are many different ways to die. A death with honour on the battlefield. A death in your own bed, with your wife and children around you to say goodbye. None of those are so bad. But this isn't going to be like that. It will be a nasty, squalid, vicious death, filled with fear, despair, defeat and the stench of self-loathing. That's what awaits you, Josh.'

Azim walked closer to the bed, the wicker basket swinging in his hand. Josh watched it closely, trying to see what it contained. It measured ten inches by twenty. Enough room for a whole array of instruments of torture, noted Josh grimly. Knives, manacles, thumbscrews. It could be anything.

'Once more, Josh,' said Azim. 'Just tell me where Luke is.'

'I don't bloody know,' shouted Josh.

He gritted his teeth. Close your eyes, he told himself. Let your imagination take you away to a better place.

But his eyes wouldn't shut. Josh watched with mounting dread as Azim opened the small basket. His hand slipped

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inside, then emerged. Sticking up from his tightly clenched fist was the head of a snake. 'You don't like these, do you, Josh?' said Azim, a soft smile breaking out on his lips.

The reptile had been sleeping. Its neck was held tightly within Azim's fist, and its long thin body drooped down into the basket. Slowly it was starting to wake up. One bright green eye opened, then another. The snake's skin was black, mottled with greens and blues, with ridges running down the side of its thick, leathery skin. Its tongue darted from its mouth, then shot back inside as it closed one eye.

'What the fuck is that?' snapped Josh.

'An Arizona Black Rattlesnake, also known as a Crotalus cerberus? said Azim.

'Keep it away from me!'

Azim smiled. 'Talk to me, Josh. Then I'll get rid of the beast.'

'I told you -- I don't bloody know anything.'

Azim put the snake back in the basket and clapped his hands together. The woman re-entered the room. She was still wearing the veil wrapped across her mouth, yet Josh could look straight into her cold brown eyes. He could feel himself recoiling from her presence.

'Handcuff him,' commanded Azim.

Josh's left hand was already manacled to the bed, as was his left foot. The woman approached him, a set of steel handcuffs held before her. She sat down next to Josh. Slowly she reached out for his right hand.

'Leave me alone,' shouted Josh. A

Within a second, Azim had whipped a pistol from inside his tunic: an American-made Mauser M2.The snubbed steel nose of the weapon was now nestling against Josh's ear, cool and hard against his skin. 'Do as she says, Josh.'

'Kill me now, you bastard,' shouted Josh, a note of hysteria in his voice. 'Get the bloody thing over with.'The gun was pressing tighter against his skin. He could feel it pressing

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into the bone of his skull. 'Hold still, man,' whispered Azim. 'Let her cuff you.'

Josh rolled sideways, snatching his hand away from the woman. She pushed herself on top of him, straddling him with a thick and powerful pair of thighs. He could feel her weight, hot and sticky against his body, making it impossible for him to move any further. The gun was still pressing against his head and Azim's finger was twitching on its trigger. The woman spat in his face. A warm ball of saliva landed hard against his cheek. As Josh brushed it aside, she grabbed his right hand, snapping one cuff into place. Her movement was swift and practised. In a fraction of a second she had placed the other cuff round the bedpost and snapped it shut. Josh was trapped. Both hands were secured and so was one foot.

I can't move, he told himself grimly. I can't escape.

'Infidel pig,' sneered the woman. She spat again, this time landing a ball of saliva just next to Josh's eye. Her breath smelled of onions and sugar, and so did her spit. But with both hands cuffed, it was impossible for Josh to wipe it away.

Now the woman climbed away from his chest, straightening out her white skirt as she stood back on the floor. Azim picked up the wicker case, lifting out the snake again. The reptile opened an eye, looking around the room lazily. Gripping it by the head, Azim put it down at the foot of the bed.

'Want to tell me where Luke is?'

'Piss off'

Azim pulled a dead mouse from his pocket. He held the small corpse up by its tail, then placed it down on Josh's chest. Dead for a day or two, reckoned Josh from the look of the animal. It was already starting to smell like the sewers it had probably come from. He could see the snake focusing its beady green eyes on it.

'He's hungry,' said Azim. 'And when he starts eating, he doesn't stop.'

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Azim looked down at Josh, his expression sympathetic. 'Talk to me.'

'Fuck off.'

Azim leaned across him. In his right hand he was holding a black wooden cane with which he tapped the snake on its back. Suddenly, its eyes, rilled with anger, fixed on Josh.

Azim turned around and walked towards the door. 'When you're ready, call for me. I'll be listening.'

Josh could hear the door shutting. His stare was riveted on the snake. The reptile's head had reared up, and it was sniffing the air. Slowly it started to advance. Its head moved across Josh's leg, then the rest of its three-foot-long body started sliding over him.

He could feel himself starting to tremble. Get a bloody grip, man, he ordered himself. You show any fear, this animal's going to bite you for sure.

The snake was moving closer. It stopped at Josh's groin, sniffing the skin for several minutes, its tongue flashing in and out of its mouth. Then it moved on upwards. Its skin felt like a rubber tyre: thick and fleshy, yet also tepid. Its eyes looked up towards Josh. At first it seemed to be afraid, but then it grew in confidence as it noticed that Josh wasn't making any move to protect himself.

The snake knows, thought Josh. It knows that I can't move. It's laughing at me.

It paused, sniffing the mouse. Its tongue darted across the animal's skin, licking the gradually decomposing flesh. Then its teeth sank into the mouse's body^earing at it ferociously. Small bits of fur dropped onto Josh's chest, mixing with the saliva drooling from the snake's open mouth.

Josh could feel his hands shaking.The fear was taking control of him. Don't bite me, he muttered to himself, repeating the phrase over and over. Please God, don't bite me.

The beast paused, looking up towards Josh. Then it sniffed the hairs on his chest. Its tongue flicked against them.

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Stay still, man. Stay as still as a rock and maybe it won't bite you.

Shall I call Azim? No, Josh told himself, gripping onto the side of the bed. You can't tell Azim anything.

Just kill me with one bite, thought Josh, looking towards the snake. Get it over with.

The movement was so sudden that its swiftness bewildered Josh. One second the snake was eyeing him idly, as if calmly assessing his strength, then he could see its tongue flicking out and its head dipping downwards, like a seagull swooping on a fish in the sea.

The teeth felt icy cold as they sank into Josh's chest. The snake's sharp fangs easily pierced his skin. He could feel his flesh being punctured. Next he felt the reptile's tongue flash forwards. A stinging sensation burned through him.

The venom.

The snake has bitten me.

Josh could feel blood starting to seep out across his chest. The snake whipped around and started slithering back down his body.

Already Josh was starting to feel dizzy. His vision was clouding. He could feel his limbs beginning to stiffen as his skin turned numb. His body felt chilled, as if the air conditioning had been turned on.

Blackness. Josh tried to open his eyes, but the eyelids refused to move. An image was floating through his mind. The brunette. And, next to her, the little girl. Paula, realised Josh. The brunette's name was Paula. And the little girl was called Emily. He could hear her laughter as he played with her, and the sound of her breathing gently in his arms as he cradled her to sleep.

My daughter. / have a daughter.

Who I might never see again.

The venom had him in its grip now. Josh couldn't open his eyes, nor could he move. His breathing was slow. A

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terrible pounding was beating against the side of his head.

Stay awake, Josh ordered himself.

But he could feel his consciousness departing. As the darkness overwhelmed him Josh wondered if he was dying.

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EIGHTEEN

Sunday, June 14th. Morning.

Josh's head was splitting as he gradually emerged from a deep sleep. He opened one eye first, adjusting it to the bright light shining over him. Then the other. I should be dead, he thought. That sodding snake's poison should have killed me. But then bloody Azim would never get any info out of me, about Luke or anything else. He and that bitch nurse or whatever she is must have shot me full of antivenom serum as soon as I'd passed out.

He could see Azim peering down at him, a smile playing on his lips. 'Good morning, Josh,' he said, his tone ingratiating and insincere. 'Welcome to another day in hell.'

Josh rattled his handcuffs. The metal frame of the bed creaked and groaned as he shook it angrily but all he was doing was hurting himself, he realised. The two sets of cuffs holding his arms in place were still locked tight, as was the single set securing his left foot. The metal rings around his wrists and ankle cut into his skin as he struggled to pull himself free.

'Stop fighting, Josh,' said Azim. 'And talk to me.'

Josh stayed silent. He was still trying to collect his thoughts, to remember where he was, who he was, and what he had to do.

My name is Josh Harding. I'm a British soldier. And I'm about to die for my country.

'The Americans are amateurs when it comes to torture,'

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said Azim. 'Flatner and his idiots, they knew nothing. Just like those idiots in Abu Ghraib back in Iraq. Brute force, that's all they understand.'

He was toying with a thin glass tube, turning it over and over in his hands. 'But torture is a subtle art, as subtle in its own way as the arts of love. Your victim is like a woman. You must coax him to give up his secrets, just as you would coax a woman into giving up her innocence.'

'And what if your victim doesn't know anything?'

'But he will, Josh, he will,' said Azim. 'You see, a man's memory is a delicate thing. The Arab world has its own traditions of medicine. The greatest doctors of medieval times were all Arab. Much of their wisdom might have been lost, but there are still lessons that have been passed down through the ages. And one of them is about memory'

Christ, thought Josh. This guy's trying to bore me to death.

Azim held up the glass tube between his fingers. Inside Josh could see a pale red liquid. 'A memory can be restored through care, treatment and rest,' Azim continued. 'But it can also be restored through pain and suffering. The careful application of pain can sharpen and sensitise the nerves until the mind yields up its secrets. Trust me, when you want to die enough, then your memory will come back.'

'What the hell is that?' said Josh, nodding towards the tube.