Chapter 28

After the excitement of Auggie's early morning capture, Mercer and his men slept late. It was mid-morning before anyone approached the cage. Auggie thought he recognized the voice as that of the man addressed as Max. Their break taken yesterday under his hideout tree had given him a chance to hear it.

He shouted for Auggie to come to the gate. When he shambled over, a bottle of warm water and sandwich of stale bread and greasy bacon was shoved under the grate. Even as hungry as he was Auggie had trouble getting it down, but he ate it slowly and deliberately. He could feel Max watching him.

"See the monkey in the cage," he said lightly. "Not much to do for entertainment around here is there?"

"You got that right," Max replied. "This is some weird operation. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. Why don't you just tell 'em what they want to know, and then we can all go home?"

"I don't think I can count on that. I expect Ben Mercer would rather see me dead."

"What do you know that they want so bad, and what in hell did you ever do to make Mercer hate you so much?"

"Hey, I'm just a computer tech for a government agency. I don't know much beyond some technical stuff. My problem is that Mercer had two chances at a beautiful young lady, and he left her hanging both times. She's with me now, and he wants her back. She's through with him, and he blames me. No international intrigue, just plain mean jealousy."

"No shit," Max said. "I'm sorry, man. Wish I could help, but I can't. Push that plate back out, will ya. I gotta take it back."

Auggie shoved the empty plate back under the door. Max took it and stood up.

"Your arm's a mess," he said. "Damn dogs did a number on it. I hate 'em; they're ugly brutes." He headed back to the house.

Auggie retreated to the shade of the banana tree. He suspected he was in for a rough day, and if he didn't get medical treatment soon, he would be in real trouble.

It wasn't long until they came for him. He was half led, half dragged into the house and his usual torture chamber. Jakob and Ben Mercer were waiting for him there. Mercer greeted him with a hard slap across the mouth and a growl. "Alright Anderson, now you're going to tell me something I can use." He was shoved down into a chair.

Jakob approached him. "Auggie," he said in a soft voice, "let me see your arm."

If he wanted to see the injured arm there was no way Auggie could prevent it, so he extended it slightly. There was silence and a couple of light touches; then Jakob spoke to Mercer.

"Herr Mercer, this must be treated. Allow me to wash and bandage it and give him some antibiotics?"

"I said no!" Mercer grabbed Auggie's wrist and twisted his injured arm savagely.

Auggie drove his teeth into his lip and managed to stay silent.

"Waterboard him and get some results!" Mercer said and stalked from the room.

Auggie had undergone a brief session of waterboarding as part of a course on resisting interrogation. He knew what was coming and dreaded it.

He was lifted onto a hard, wide plank and stretched full length. His feet were tied fast at the ankles and his arms stretched above his head and tied. He could feel the bite marks tear open and start to ooze blood. Then he was tilted back until his head was well below his feet and a towel pressed down over his face and head. He took a deep breath and waited for the water to come. Instead there was a pause.

"I don't want to do this, Auggie." It was Jakob's soft, bland voice. "Tell me something to satisfy Herr Mercer, anything, and I will release you, do what I can for your arm."

It was so tempting. Reveal one minor asset in some far away country; offer up the location of some ex-terrorist who had turned his coat and sought sanctuary, or reveal some misinformation plan. It would be so easy. It would save him agony and humiliation. But it couldn't happen; wouldn't happen. He might be blind: no longer in the field or on the front lines of a battle, but he was still a warrior and a patriot to his core.

"Jakob, you know I made the other stuff up. I made it up because I don't know anything that Mercer wants. I'm just an IT guy. They don't let me in on the spy stuff." It was worth a try.

"I'm sorry, Auggie; it seems we must proceed."

He just had time to take a deep breath before the water began to stream over the towel that covered his face. It ran up his nose and filled his mouth. Immobilized, he fought to retain mental control and suppress his gag reflex. It was like being underwater, unable to surface.

He blew out slowly, but the water continued to flow. He ran out of breath, and the water filled his airway. A sharp blow struck him across his shins, and he gasped. Water hit his lungs, and he began to cough, thrash his head and struggle madly. Just when he thought he would drown, the stream of water stopped and the board was raised.

The towel was pulled away, and he was able to suck in air. He coughed until his already bruised throat was raw, but finally stabilized at something approaching normal.

"Tell me something, Auggie," Jakob said from beside him.

Auggie shook his head. "Can't" he croaked.

The towel was thrown over his head, the board tipped back even farther, and the water began to stream again.

It was hell. Auggie was a swimmer, but he was accustomed to using his arms and legs to maintain his position in the water. Helpless, tied and submerged upside down and backwards under what felt like a steady flow of water, the deep-seated human fear of drowning kicked in. He fought it; tried not to let them catch him as he inhaled, held his mind in a relentless clutch, but with repeated sessions exhaustion took over.

"Wait," he gasped as they began to tip him back for the sixth time. "Maybe, something … rest a minute… just thought of it…"

"Untie him," Jakob said. "Put him in the chair. Let him catch his breath."

The men followed Jakob's directions, and Auggie was once again secured in the hard, straight chair. They tied only his arms.

"You have something for Mr. Mercer?" Jakob asked. "If this is a trick, it will be much worse when we continue."

"Just remembered," Auggie said. "Overheard my boss say something while I was setting up some communications equipment. Tryin' to turn a guy, make him a double agent."

"Where and who?"

"Northern Pakistan, a Haggani unit of Al Qaeda. Looking for solid proof they're supported by elements of the government there. No name. They wouldn't say a name with me in the room. Guy's a native though. They called him 'The Red Horseman'. Could be a Bible reference or something else. I don't know."

"Auggie, I hope this is something Herr Mercer can use."

"Jakob, I'm finished. Can't take any more. Please." Auggie prayed they would believe him. He was exhausted.

Hauled back to his cage and dumped inside, he continued to cough in an effort to clear his lungs of water. Better a painful throat than a mechanical pneumonia, he thought.

Despite the pain of his bitten arm and his exhaustion from the water torture, sometime in the late afternoon he became aware of occasional intense itching high behind his left ear. He rubbed at it and felt the slight bulge of his implant. It was a sensation unlike any he had experienced. Dazed and depressed it took him sometime to realize that perhaps, just perhaps, his implant was active. It was utilizing tiny amounts of energy generated in his brain to respond to external signals. At times it grew hot and painful; then it would subside.

As the heat of the day began to fade, he felt a sort of tickling inside his head. It grew intense; suddenly, without warning, the coordinates he had downloaded more than a week age popped into his mind unbidden. He was frozen with shock for a moment and then a slow smile spread across his battered face. Maybe, just maybe, he had been found.

He allowed himself to hope. Rescue could be on its way soon. If someone, he prayed it was Annie, knew where he was, if he could hang on for just a little while longer someone would come. Dear God, please let someone come! He was so tired.

By the time supper came his arm was swollen and a steady throb sent waves of pain up the extremity. James brought his meal. He had done his best to select the most eatable scraps from the table leftovers. He squatted opposite Auggie as he pushed the plate under the door.

"Auggie," he whispered, "I can't help much. They already think I may have helped you escape. They watch me. Water is clean, cool." He handed a moist bottle through the opening. "Es tut mir leid."

"I know, James," Auggie spoke softly. "I'm sorry too. Stay clear. If help comes for me, surrender and ask for asylum."

James' step was slow as he walked away.

Auggie drank all of the cool, clear water. Not much use in saving it. His body needed it now. He had little appetite, but ate what he could. His sleep was restless and pain filled that night. By morning he was running a fever.