Part 3

Consciousness came slowly, which Billy thought was probably a good thing. His head was aching even in his semi-conscious state and he knew that the pain would only get worse once he actually opened his eyes.

He must have groaned, because sound was also slowly staring to invade his senses and he could hear Rick calling his name.

His lids were incredible heavy, but despite the downward pull of them and the light sending new, stabbing pain right into his brain, he forced them open.

Billy's vision was blurry, but he could make out a simple room. The stone walls were bare, and light was coming from a source somewhere above his head. And judging from the brightness of it, it was artificial. So any possible windows in the room were probably boarded up. He could barely make out the edges of a door from his point of view.

The second he started to move, Billy realized that he was tied to a chair. Coarse rope secured his wrists behind his back, stretching his shoulders uncomfortably. He groaned again, but this time not because of the pain.

"Billy? Are you awake? Are you okay?"

"I'm awake. No need to shout," Billy replied and finally lifted his head. Rick was sitting in a chair to his right, equally restrained. And although his face looked calm, his eyes were wide open and panicky.

Thanks to them, Rick had been put into many dangerous situations, but all of them had been planned by the ODS. Hardly any of them had happened randomly like this kidnapping. Sometimes Billy did felt sorry about what they all did to Rick. But then, he had gone through the same hazing when he had started with MI6. Ah, the wonders of being the newbie.

"Billy!" Rick's harsh shout made him look up again. He hadn't even realized that his head had dropped again. And his thoughts had been drifting. That couldn't be good. Not that he was going to mention that to Rick.

"I'm fine, just thought that my shoes were untied. Are you alright?"

"Just a headache. It kind of feels like a hangover," Rick admitted, ignoring Billy's attempt at a distraction.

"Then you never had a proper hangover before. Casey and I will give you one, once we're back home. Can you move at all?" Billy asked, looking to his right were Rick was sitting.

"I have no leverage," Rick replied in disappointment, and he gave a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders.

Billy nodded and turned his gaze away; he needed to concentrate now and looking at his fellow inmate would not help. While the rope was tied securely around both of his wrists, he still had a bit of range left. Hopefully that would be enough. He bent his left thumb back as far as possible and then rammed it against the back of his chair. The first time just shook the chair, but when he tried it again, he heard the crack of his thumb dislocating. Fiery pain instantly shot up his arm and Billy bit his lip hard to stop himself from crying out loud.

"The hell was that?" Rick asked, sounding confused. "That sounded bad."

"That, my young friend was the sound of my thumb dislocating," Billy replied absentmindedly as he started to wriggle his hands out of the rope.

"You dislocated your thumb? Don't tell me that you trained to do that?" Rick probably believed that his team was crazy enough to actually do something like that, especially since he had learned that Casey trained his body to be immune to electroshocks by applying them to himself.

Still, even the ODS had limits to their insanity. At least, some of them still did.

"No, or do I look like Casey? I just dislocated it a few times when I was a wee one playing Rugby. Ever since then I can easily pop the thumb in and out. It can be a handy trick for situations such as these."

Just as he could feel the ropes slipping further down his wrists, the door to their cell was pushed open. They had only seen pictures of Santiago, but now he was standing right in front of them. The broad forehead and the square jaw were easy to recognize, just like the shock of black hair that was glued to his head with gel.

Two more men stepped into the room with him, both clearly hired muscle. After sweeping his eyes over them, Billy turned back to Santiago and grinned at the man. "This is not a very nice way to greet guests of your country."

"You are no guests of my country," Santiago replied. His voice was deep and his Spanish accent was thick.

"Aye, you're right. Pablo here," Billy said and indicated Rick with his head, "is my guide. Poor lad doesn't even speak English."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Rick's face slipping for a second, then it changed back into a scared and innocent expression. Billy just hoped that Santiago hadn't caught that slip up. Santiago's eyes moved between Billy and Rick, but finally settled on the Scot. It seemed like he was buying the story for now.

If he could, Billy would have sighed in relief. He had a pretty good idea what was going to come next and he didn't wanted Rick to be at the end of that treatment. Somehow he felt like he needed to protect Rick's naiveté. The lad was still open and unafraid in his understanding of the world, and there was an innocence about that Billy missed. It would do them all good if they could make sure that Rick didn't turn into a cynic, paranoid bastard like the rest of them.

It was just a quick nod of the head from Santiago, but it was enough to get one of the man behind him to move. The fist caught Billy straight in the jaw, whipping his head to the side.

Billy didn't know when he started to use talking to actually deflect from his feelings, but now he just couldn't stop it, no matter the situation. So Billy did what he did best. After straightening up again and flexing his aching jaw, it just kept moving. "My, that was a good, strong hit. But really, I suppose you want answers. The problem is, you have to ask questions first. Else I don't know when to lie."

It was only after the second blow, which Billy was sure cracked some ribs, that he cringed at his own poor wording. His brain to mouth filter was certainly not working at all. Probably knocked out by the concussion.

But at least he could feel the ropes slipping even further down his hand. Just a few more inches and he would be free. He just needed to distract Santiago and his goons from his movements.

"Then I will ask you questions," Santiago said, his eyes narrowed with distrust. "Who are you and what do you want here?"

"Ah, the classics. Always good. I'm Robert MacNeill, tourist from Scotland," Billy said, strengthening his accent. "And the lad is Pablo Montoya. He's showing me the jungle. Just unlucky circumstance that we managed to intrude upon your sovereign territory."

"You shot my men," Santiago said, clearly not buying the story.

"Admittedly you shot first," Billy said with a small shrug. "We just defended ourselves."

A third punch caught him across his cheekbone and he could've sworn that he had heard it crunch under the assault. Black dots invaded his vision and he Billy could feel his consciousness slipping away.

It was the faint feeling of the rope slipping off his fingers that helped Billy keep the darkness at bay. Breathing deeply against the pain and with his chin still resting on his chest, he said, "That wasn't fair; I wasn't even lying that time."

Santiago started to laugh and then his two men joined him. And that was the distraction Billy needed.

He jumped out of his chair, grabbing the back of it as he moved and smashed it against the man closest to him. The chair splintered as the man went down, but Billy didn't stop to look if he stayed down. Instead he turned to Santiago, who had stopped laughing and was now staring in shock and fear at Billy.

A small, mirthless smile spread over Billy's face, before he felled the cartel lord with one well-placed uppercut.

The third man in the room had moved slightly, trying to pull a gun from his leg holster, but again Billy was faster. Adrenaline and determination were driving him and while this man was more difficult to subdue than Santiago, Billy only received a few punches before he managed to get the man into a headlock.

He held on tight, counting the seconds in his head and only let go when he was sure the man was well and truly out. Exhausted, he staggered to the wall and leaned against it. He tasted fresh blood on his lips and felt his right eye starting to swell shut. His ribs were protesting with every gasping breath he took. But he was still standing, while their attackers weren't.

"Billy? Are alright?" Rick asked and once Billy lifted his head again and met his eyes, the young operative continued, "That was awesome."

Billy grinned in return and pushed himself off the wall. Hopefully one of Santiago's men would have a knife, then he could cut Rick's ties and they would be on their way out.

Rick's face suddenly lost all earlier relief and shock replaced it. His eyes went wide, not focusing on Billy anymore, but rather at someone just to his left, where the door was.

The sound of a gun being cocked came from behind Billy and he closed his eyes in resignation. Sodding hell, they were as good as dead