Chapter Thirteen

Quanflict Prison.

A dark, drab place, this complex had stood since the Cold War. Updated and expanded, this was the maximum security prison where the scum of Mauanui was held, interrogated and executed. It was also where Global Anarchy kept its prisoners.

Lisa woke as cold water was slashed on her face. Coming around, her vision blurred. She saw a blob in front of her, a olive-green blob, and heard a murmuring. Suddenly, her senses snapped back in and she took notice of where she was. Bound to a metal frame chair, she was seated in front of a desk opposite sat a man dressed in military uniform. A black beret in his head and a red G.A. patch on his shoulder, Haram Garlando was the newly instated warden of Quanflict Prison. Mean, tough and sadistic as hell, he took great pleasure in interrogating his prisoners. As he did now.

"Ah. So you're awake."

Lisa sat up in her chair. "Why are you holding me? I am a New Zealand citizen and I demand that you…"

Abruptly, Garlando leaned forward and slapped her. Stunned, Lisa shut up.

Garlando sat back in his chair and opened a folder in front of him. "Now, while you may be a New Zealand citizen, you are now our…guest."

Lisa sat in silence, a trickle of blood oozing from her lip. All she did was glare at Garlando. For his part, he sat there, a slight smile on his face, as if amused at this girl attempting to stare him down. Then, he spoke again.

"When you we brought here, we found a cell-phone on you. This particular phone was on. Now, when we went into your call memory, we found that you had made a call minutes before your capture, a call that was not answered. You would be best to tell me whom you were attempting to call."

"Bite me."

Garlando just sat there, let the comment roll over him. "Who were you attempting to call?"

Before Lisa could answer, a guard smashed her in the back with a rifle. Still bound to the chair, she fell to the floor and slid to a stop. The guard then righted her in the chair and dragged her back to the desk, back in front of Garlando.

"Who were you attempting to call?"

Lisa said nothing.

Garlando leaned back in his chair, lit a cigar. "Fine then. Take her back to her cell," he ordered the guard, who stepped forward and untied Lisa, dragged her to her feet. As she was escorted out, Garlando spoke again. "You will be seeing me again my dear." His lips spread in a grin. "You can count on that."

Lisa was escorted through the drab, grey corridors of the prison. She passed cell after cell. In some, children huddled far from the bars, far from where guards could reach them. Suddenly, she heard it.

"Lisa!"

She turned, and saw a bedraggled Bruce reaching through the bars. "You ok?" he called.

"Not really."

"Don't worry," he called. "I'll think of some…"

A guard stepped forward and clubbed Bruce with his truncheon. Bruce recoiled from the bars.

"Bruce!" Lisa screamed.

"Don't worry about me. It'll all work out," Bruce shouted, "I promise."

Lisa was dragged away from the figure, finally reaching her cell. While one guard opened the door, another threw her into the cell. As the door slammed shut, Lisa picked herself up and threw herself onto the thin mattress that formed a bed. As she lay, tears crept into her eyes.

On the mountain, all was quiet now that the refugees had left. A lizard reclined in the sun in the middle of the track, soaking up the heat of the sun. Suddenly, it snapped alert, sensing something. It dashed off the path, just as the three sports cars roared up the mountain. Sliding and drifting, the Porsche, the Ferrari and the Jaguar blasted their way to a cliff overlooking the island. The Porsche pulled off a 360, the Jaguar slid sideways and the Ferrari braked safely. Ramius climbed out of the shiny Jaguar XKR and walked to the edge of the cliff. Pulling out a pair of binoculars, he focused in on the sprawling prison. Jordan wound down the window. "Can you see her?"

Ramius turned and glared at him. "No. Not really."

Admiral Bickerson pried himself out of the Ferrari. "Bloody Italian sports-cars," he grumbled, "made for midgets."

Ramius wandered over and leaned against the Porsche. "So, how are we going to do this?"

"Well," said the Admiral, "we've been loaned three high performance sports-cars with a whole range of, what did Captain Gargavich call them?"

"Optional extras, I think," mentioned Jordan.

"That's the one. Now, our key goal is to rescue Featherguill and Lisa. Aside from that, we can wreak as much havoc as possible. Subtlety has gone out the window." He looked at the duo. "Shall we?"

"Indeed," said Ramius.

"Too right," added Jordan.

Thirty seconds later, the cars shot down the hill.