The mid-morning sun broke through the small window of the room, throwing a sliver of light across the back of Jo's hair. She had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, though she was unsure what time. All she had been aware of was the pain and nausea that had exhausted her. When she awoke she was still in pain; a horrible taste filled her mouth and she felt dirty.
The door opened and one of the masked men entered holding a slice of bread and a plastic glass filled a quarter of the way with water. He set it down in front of Jo; his voice was all too familiar. Jo flinched as Boscard spoke. "Five minutes, then I'll be back." He left the room. A realisation came over Jo; she hadn't eaten and had only a sip of water since she had first awoken in that room. She folded the bread in half and finished it in no more than three mouthfuls, barely chewing it. She reached for the water and swallowed it in one gulp.
The door opened and Boscard entered again. He lifted the glass and leered at Jo for a moment; her blood ran cold. He gave her a cruel smile then left the room.
Jo thought back to when she first met Adam, he had called at her door using the pretence that he was the gas man. She hadn't been fooled and had followed him. Within weeks she was a fully trained junior case officer. They had faced many threats together, risked their lives and saved the other on countless occasions. She had witnessed him break down only weeks after Fiona's death, something he never blamed her for…even telling her to stay when she was about to resign.
She remembered back to when she got news that Adam had been killed in an explosion, she had taken it badly, even then her feelings for him had been badly hidden. She had been shocked to hear his voice in the coffee shop that day they met again, but not surprised. His death had been faked; just as her own death had been faked a while after. Section D was to be disbanded; the agents deaths where faked to keep them safe. A year after Adam and Jo were married, Harry Pearce had re-commissioned Section D, asking both agents to return to the field. Adam had accepted, Jo declined- choosing instead to stay at home with the boys, while working part time as Aimee Parker.
Jo was brought out of her daydream by the opening of the door; The Arab entered flanked by two of the masked men, he approached Jo and placed his hand on her shoulder; "How are you feeling Joanna? You look a bit peaky."
Jo shrugged her shoulders, trying to shake off the Arab's hand; "Don't touch me."
The Arab lifted his hand from Jo's shoulder then grabbed her by the shirt; pulling her up to stand. He kept one hand on her shirt and raised the other as if to hit her. He then laughed and gave Jo two short, sharp slaps on the cheek. Not giving enough force to hurt but enough to show her he could hurt her if he wished. He then realised his grip on her shirt and pushed one of its fallen straps back into place. "The men want to ask you a few questions about your…previous occupation…you will be honest and withhold nothing, if you become stubborn and tell them little to nothing then they will take measures to make you talk. Is that understood?"
Jo nodded in agreement; she was then led at gunpoint into the same room as the previous evening. By now a chair had been set at each of the longer sides of the table; the bottom end of it was stained with blood; her blood. She felt sick at the gory image.
Jo was shoved onto one of the chairs as one of the men sat across from her, a standard issue baton and a pair of pliers sat in front of him. Another of the men spoke up; "He wants her as intact as possible, make those a last resort."
Jo curled her hands into fists; trying to protect her nails. She had been here before; she knew the pain of having each fingernail slowly ripped from the nail-bed. She shuddered nervously at the thought.
The man across from her placed his hand over the baton; "How did MI5 know about the recent plans to bring down the houses of parliament?"
Jo stared through him; "I no longer work for MI5."
He closed his hand round the baton and gave a nod to one of the other men; who grabbed Jo's wrists and forced her to uncurl her fists, keeping her hands flat on the table. The man across from her repeated the question, slower this time. "How did MI5 know about the recent plans to bring down the houses of parliament?"
Jo braced herself; "I no longer work for the British government."
She cried out as the metal of the baton came down hard against the skin on her hands; there was no crack, she knew nothing had been broken. The man who was holding her wrists let go and hauled her to her feet. The man across from her got up and came to face her. She was asked the question again, and repeated her reply. She gave another yell as the baton came down hard against the backs of her legs.
With each question Jo gave the same reply. Eventually her interrogator set down his weapon and took his hand to Jo each time she refused to answer him.
An hour passed them by and still Jo refused to divulge any information. Every part of her hurt and her hand was swollen from being struck with the baton. The man who had interrogated her looked to the other; "Put her against the wall." He did as he was instructed and frog-marched Jo to the other side of the room and pushed her against the wall; "Stay there."
Jo noticed that the man who had been interrogating her had left the room; but his absence was short lived. He entered again; this time holding two buckets. He set one down and walked to where Jo stood, he stood less than a metre away and brought the bucket forward; throwing iced water around her. Jo gasped as the freezing liquid saturated her clothes and ran down her face. The man questioned her again; again she gave him no answer. He lifted the other bucket.
Adam sat across from Harry, he looked at the clock. Over twenty-four hours. There was a silence within the grid as everyone waited. Adam pressed his fingers to his temples as he stared at the case file in front of him: MISSING PERSONS-JONANNA CARTER.
