Chapter 2 - So, Mr Barrett, we meet at last.

Stirling was suspended from the ceiling, his arms taking his full body weight. Johnson had got his men to fasten leather straps around Craig's wrists. A chain led from them to two hooks in the ceiling, anchoring his hands apart. Around his ankles were two more straps and chains on these were attached to some sort of pulley system. At present the links were lying loosely on the floor. The Nemesis man was sweating profusely because of the strain on his arms, his damp shirt clung tightly to his body.

"So, Mr. Barrett, that code," Johnson said.

"I don't know...what you're...talking...about," Craig gasped out through gritted teeth.

"You're going to tell me eventually, why make a martyr out of yourself?"

"I'd really like to help you out but I don't know what you're talking about," the American panted.

"For your sake I hope that's a lie," said Johnson. "Because, if it isn't, there is no reason why we should keep you alive."

At that moment the door opened and a man walked in,

"The boss wants a word with you Johnson...now," the newcomer said.

"I'll be right there," Johnson said. He turned back to Stirling.

"I'll have to leave you for a moment or two. My men can soften you up a bit while you wait for me to return. They don't use very sophisticated methods but I think they'll find some interesting ways to entertain you while I'm gone. I'll just introduce you shall I? This is Watson," he said, gesturing to the man on his left, "and this is Doyle. Do anything you like but I want him conscious when I return. As for you Barrett, any time you want my friends here to stop, all you need do is tell us what you know. Watson, if he starts to talk, you fetch me immediately." He walked across the room then paused in the doorway looking back at his men. "I do mean immediately," he repeated. "Oh and Doyle, it might interest you to know that, while it was Stirling who beat up on Billy, it was Barrett here that held him at gunpoint so he couldn't defend himself. The poor sod got such a hammering that he was actually rolling on the floor sobbing in agony."

Craig saw the anger flare in Doyle's eyes. Johnson smiled when he saw the effect of his words then looked at Watson, mouthed 'Keep him conscious remember', and left the room.

Doyle raised his fists and strode purposefully over to Craig.


"Are you all right, sir?"

Richard looked up at the young desk sergeant at the police station and tried to marshal his face.

"I'm fine."

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your face. Have you been mugged?"

Richard sighed and passed his Nemesis ID card to the man saying,

"Take this to your boss."

"OK ..." the sergeant read the name on the card, "... Mr. Barrett."


"Mr. Barrett!"

Craig lifted his head; aware that this voice, with its barely detectable nuance of an American accent, was one he hadn't heard before. He could tell by the man's demeanour that he was very much in command here. Stirling let his head sag downwards again, he was having a great deal of difficulty breathing and he made a rasping sound with each inward breath.

"So Mr. Barrett, we meet at last," the man said. Despite the fact that he spoke in a silky smooth voice, the underlying menace was not lost on Craig. "I've decided to give you my personal attention. Would you like to know why?... Well I'll tell you. Apparently, Mr. Barrett, you aren't the innocent clerk we had you pegged as. I've just had a telephone call informing me that you're not merely a cryptographer after all; you're a front line agent. I guess that means you'll have had training for situations such as you find yourself in at the moment. Well don't go thinking that's gonna help you; I've had plenty of experience of cracking men of your type. I always get what I want and, right now, I want the Karpov code and I mean to get it."

The man stepped behind Craig and put both hands on the Nemesis man's shoulders, he pushed down on them very slightly but it was enough to elicit a gasp of pain as the pressure on Stirling's shoulders increased.

"Now." the man said and gestured to the equipment on the floor. A sadistic smile crossed Doyle's face.

"Okay Boss," he said as he bent down and began to operate the pulley system very slowly. Craig's body was steadily stretched as the chains on the floor shortened. The boss gestured for the man to stop.

"Had enough yet, Mr. Barrett?" he asked.

Stirling was afraid that if he opened his mouth to respond to the question he wouldn't be able to prevent himself from crying out, so he kept silent.

"Give him a little more," the boss commanded.


Richard sat in the police chief's office waiting for the man to return while simultaneously trying to keep his mind off the feelings that were running through him. Just after the police chief had left, to check out the registration number, the pain in his arms increased significantly. It felt like they were being ripped out of their sockets and it was becoming ever more difficult to concentrate on the job in hand.

"I'm afraid it's not good news," the police chief said as he entered the room and sat at his desk. "The car was reported stolen three days ago by a Mr. James McGuire from out Finchley way."

He handed Richard the address.

"Might be worth a visit," Richard replied, his mood darkening. "In the meantime can you see if you have anything on a man called Jenkins? About 5'10'', average build, dark hair, going a bit bald at the front?"

"We'll let you know if we find anything."

"Great."

Richard left the police station and drove up to Finchley. He didn't hold out much hope that this would lead to anything but he couldn't come up with anything else to do.

"Mr. McGuire?" he asked the short, grey haired man who opened the door.

"Yes," came the cautious reply.

"It's about your car."

"Oh, are you the police?"

Richard decided to play along.

"Yes," he said.

"Have you found it?" the man asked hopefully.

"It's been spotted but I'm afraid we lost it. May I come in please? I have a few questions and I need some answers."


"I need some answers," rapped out the boss, slapping Craig across the face. "The Karpov code, now!"

The questioning had gone on and on. The boss relentlessly asking the same thing over and over again and, to Craig, it seemed like days had gone by.

"I'd…tell...you...if I...could…but I…don't...know…it," gasped Stirling, desperately trying to draw enough air into his tortured lungs to get the words out.

"Er Boss, sorry to bother you but that call you requested has just come through," said a voice from the doorway.

"OK I'll be right there. Doyle, you and Watson keep Barrett occupied while I'm away, we can't allow him to get bored now can we?"

"Should I stretch 'im some more Boss? Or can I try somethink else?" asked Doyle.

The boss studied Craig's face carefully,

"Not the stretch, not right now, he's too close to passing out," said the man as he left the room.

"OK,"

Watson and Doyle taunted Craig for a while then grew bored as they got no response from him. Eventually Doyle walked behind the Nemesis man. Craig felt a karate chop delivered to the back of his neck, then everything went black.

"Oh, bloody 'ell!"

There was an angry sound from the doorway and both men turned and saw the boss standing there with an extremely annoyed expression on his face. Doyle looked at him with trepidation.

"I thought he could take it, Boss - honest I did.. and I didn't mean to hit that hard… anyway I was aiming for his shoulder not his neck…it was an accident …honest it was" he blustered.


Meanwhile Richard headed back to the police station. He'd felt Craig pass out and his concern for his friend was making it hard for him to keep focused on the task in hand. His visit to Mr. McGuire's residence had turned up nothing and he was now regretting the time lost. The elderly gentleman had been very co-operative, but he hadn't seen the theft, merely woken up one morning to find his car gone. He had just retired from his work in the City and was keen to have someone to talk to, so Richard had found it difficult to get away.

Back at the station Barrett learned that the thugs they'd captured earlier had been transferred to a police holding cell and that their fingerprints had been sent to Scotland Yard, which meant a long wait for the results. Richard made a mental note to interview the prisoners after a quick return to his hotel. Becoming more worried about his colleague by the minute he got back into his car.


The boss finished his examination of the unconscious Craig and turned to Watson.

"I told you to keep him conscious," he said dangerously.

Watson took a step backwards.

"Lucky for you I'm not in too much of a hurry," the boss continued. "That call was to confirm that my other place is ready. I've a feeling that Barrett is gonna be stubborn and I can get quicker results over there. We'll have one last shot at making him talk with the equipment we have here and then, if he continues to hold out, we'll move him. So, as soon as he comes round, we'll have a final go at him here and, this time, I don't want any mistakes. He's not to be allowed to pass out – understand?"

"Yes Boss, sorry. I won't let it happen again," Watson said.

The boss turned to where Doyle stood. As he did so the door opened to reveal Johnson, standing alongside a rather attractive, leggy blonde. She stood in the doorway looking around the room for a moment.

"Where's Barrett?" she asked.

"Barrett?" the boss replied.

"Yes, Barrett."

"This isn't Barrett?" he asked, nodding towards Craig.

"That's Stirling."

Johnson paled visibly as his boss turned to him.

"My men told me they'd put Barrett in the chair," Johnson stammered.

"And I told them to put Barrett on the table," the blonde countered.

"It's not my fault," pleaded Johnson.

"It is your fault that you hired idiots," the other man said darkly.

"So what do we do about him then? Do you want us to wipe him out?" asked Johnson, gesturing towards Craig in an attempt to deflect the attention from himself.

"Not just yet, he might still be of some use, leave him there for now. I'll make a few calls and have Barrett picked up," said the boss.

"Actually," said the blonde, "I may have a better idea. I'll just need these guys in case I want a little back up." She pointed to Doyle and Johnson.

With that all of them walked out of the room leaving Stirling still hanging from the ceiling.


After a short interval Craig recovered consciousness, saw he'd been left alone and realised that this was probably his only chance to free himself. Leaning slightly to one side he gained enough slack in the chain attached to his right wrist to give it a sharp tug and break it.

He quickly realised that he had no chance of getting any slack to break the chain leading from his left wrist so he would have to unfasten the buckle on the strap in order to free himself. He hung there for a second or two fighting to remain conscious. Then he set to work trying to undo the cuff around his left wrist. This was almost impossible for three reasons, firstly; his hands were above his head so he couldn't see what he was doing. Secondly, his right hand was so wet with sweat that it kept slipping off the buckle as he struggled to release it. And thirdly, he was slipping in and out of consciousness because of the pain. To make matters worse he couldn't help being acutely aware of how desperately thirsty he was. Over and over again his hand slipped from the fastening.

When he was almost ready to cry with frustration, he managed to undo the buckle and he fell to the floor, bathed in sweat, his face contorted with pain. The jolt when he hit the ground sent him into oblivion for the second time that day.