Sydney was very cold and stiff. Her head hurt, and when she reached up to
touch it, she discovered that her wrists where bound together with thick
metal chains. The floor she was sleeping on was damp. Through a minute gap
in her blindfold, she could see her breath misting the air as she breathed
out of her nose. There was tape over her mouth. She could also see that she
was in some kind of building, though she didn't know where. Her last memory
was of slipping the tiny dummy sensor into her bag, ready to swap for the
real one.
She jumped slightly as heavy footsteps approached her, watching warily as they walked past her vastly reduced field of vision. She heard the man- she knew it was a man from the footsteps - pick something up and turn round. The next thing she knew, she had been roughly pulled to her feet. She barely managed to stop herself form crying out in pain as he yanked roughly on her stiff muscles.
Her right ankle gave way under her, and she would have fallen had it not been for her captor's rough grip on her arm, which was wrenched painfully as she fell. She was dragged into another, larger room. She knew it was larger, because the sound of their footsteps echoed.
After exactly 12 steps, she was pushed roughly to the floor. The tape covering her mouth was roughly ripped off. She gently touched her sore lips with her tongue. The blindfold was left on, but she could see a tiny amount of the room. Enough to realize that she was in deep trouble.
"Who are you? What the hell do you want with me?" she asked hoarsely. She would have gladly traded all the secrets in the world for a glass of iced water.
Her captor's only answer was to backhand her hard across the face. She tasted blood and knew he'd split her lip as he'd hit her. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and smiled grimly. Her hands weren't free, but there was enough slack in the chain to give her some freedom of movement.
"Go to hell! Until you answer my questions I'm not telling you anything!" she spat.
His booted foot lashed out, hitting her squarely in the chest. For a few awful seconds, she couldn't breath because of the pain. It felt like he'd broken everyone of her ribs. The moment passed, and she took a deep breath, feeling her ribs protest. God, that was bad, she thought shakily. If she died in this god-forsaken place, it would be on her feet, not on her knees. She vowed to herself that she would not break down in front of him.
Her clothes where torn and dirty, covered in dried blood and dust. She was wearing a pair of thin black pants and a light blue silk shirt- perfect for blending in at a semi-formal dinner. They offered her little protection from the bitter cold and damp seeping from the floor. The discomfort of sitting in one position on that floor was almost unbearable.
When he finally spoke, his voice was slow and halting, almost like English wasn't his first language. He had a heavy Belgian accent that, combined with his difficulty with English, made understanding him almost impossible.
"Tell me where the sensor is." He demanded.
Whoa, what, they don't have it by now? She thought in surprise, but she decided to play it safe.
"It's in my bag."
"No. You are lying. It is not." He shifted his position, and asked her again
"Tell me now!"
She didn't answer, didn't know how to. Whatever she said, he was going to think she was lying. She heard him move. Seconds later, she felt the cold sting of a blade along her side. Gasping with pain, she tried to move away from it. Just as she thought that she wasn't going to be able to bare it any longer, he took the blade away from her side.
"Now you tell me?"
Sydney just shook her head, not knowing where the sensor was. It must have fallen out of her bag at some point after she'd been knocked out.
He picked up her hand, examining her well cared for fingernails carefully and she knew what was coming. She tried to pull her hand away from him and failed. She was already weak from lack of sleep, dehydration and blood-loss from the cut he'd inflicted upon her. That combined with the heavy metal chains around her wrists made it almost impossible for her to resist. There wasn't enough slack to get the leverage she needed to pull her hand free.
He started with her left thumbnail, gripping it firmly with the pliers and pulled. She screamed as the nail was painfully pulled clear of her thumb. His booted foot connected with the bloody wound on her side and the scream abruptly stopped as the remaining air left her body in a rush. Stars danced around the edge of her vision.
He waited a moment until she'd started to recover and then pulled out another nail. This time she managed not to scream. She was very close to passing out. He pulled out another nail, and still she told him nothing. Instead, she let the darkness take her away from the pain.
She jumped slightly as heavy footsteps approached her, watching warily as they walked past her vastly reduced field of vision. She heard the man- she knew it was a man from the footsteps - pick something up and turn round. The next thing she knew, she had been roughly pulled to her feet. She barely managed to stop herself form crying out in pain as he yanked roughly on her stiff muscles.
Her right ankle gave way under her, and she would have fallen had it not been for her captor's rough grip on her arm, which was wrenched painfully as she fell. She was dragged into another, larger room. She knew it was larger, because the sound of their footsteps echoed.
After exactly 12 steps, she was pushed roughly to the floor. The tape covering her mouth was roughly ripped off. She gently touched her sore lips with her tongue. The blindfold was left on, but she could see a tiny amount of the room. Enough to realize that she was in deep trouble.
"Who are you? What the hell do you want with me?" she asked hoarsely. She would have gladly traded all the secrets in the world for a glass of iced water.
Her captor's only answer was to backhand her hard across the face. She tasted blood and knew he'd split her lip as he'd hit her. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and smiled grimly. Her hands weren't free, but there was enough slack in the chain to give her some freedom of movement.
"Go to hell! Until you answer my questions I'm not telling you anything!" she spat.
His booted foot lashed out, hitting her squarely in the chest. For a few awful seconds, she couldn't breath because of the pain. It felt like he'd broken everyone of her ribs. The moment passed, and she took a deep breath, feeling her ribs protest. God, that was bad, she thought shakily. If she died in this god-forsaken place, it would be on her feet, not on her knees. She vowed to herself that she would not break down in front of him.
Her clothes where torn and dirty, covered in dried blood and dust. She was wearing a pair of thin black pants and a light blue silk shirt- perfect for blending in at a semi-formal dinner. They offered her little protection from the bitter cold and damp seeping from the floor. The discomfort of sitting in one position on that floor was almost unbearable.
When he finally spoke, his voice was slow and halting, almost like English wasn't his first language. He had a heavy Belgian accent that, combined with his difficulty with English, made understanding him almost impossible.
"Tell me where the sensor is." He demanded.
Whoa, what, they don't have it by now? She thought in surprise, but she decided to play it safe.
"It's in my bag."
"No. You are lying. It is not." He shifted his position, and asked her again
"Tell me now!"
She didn't answer, didn't know how to. Whatever she said, he was going to think she was lying. She heard him move. Seconds later, she felt the cold sting of a blade along her side. Gasping with pain, she tried to move away from it. Just as she thought that she wasn't going to be able to bare it any longer, he took the blade away from her side.
"Now you tell me?"
Sydney just shook her head, not knowing where the sensor was. It must have fallen out of her bag at some point after she'd been knocked out.
He picked up her hand, examining her well cared for fingernails carefully and she knew what was coming. She tried to pull her hand away from him and failed. She was already weak from lack of sleep, dehydration and blood-loss from the cut he'd inflicted upon her. That combined with the heavy metal chains around her wrists made it almost impossible for her to resist. There wasn't enough slack to get the leverage she needed to pull her hand free.
He started with her left thumbnail, gripping it firmly with the pliers and pulled. She screamed as the nail was painfully pulled clear of her thumb. His booted foot connected with the bloody wound on her side and the scream abruptly stopped as the remaining air left her body in a rush. Stars danced around the edge of her vision.
He waited a moment until she'd started to recover and then pulled out another nail. This time she managed not to scream. She was very close to passing out. He pulled out another nail, and still she told him nothing. Instead, she let the darkness take her away from the pain.