Tony struggled with the final spoonful of slop - his stomach threatening to return the contents. What the hell is it? Better not ask! You're starving; you need to eat to conserve a little strength. They're gonna start hurting you today. Shutting his eyes he swallowed the mouthful, reaching for a tin mug of water which he drained to the last drop. 'Thanks,' he muttered.
Hassan nodded, launching into a lengthy lecture about the Koran's advice on the treatment of captives. Tony listened with one ear, his head buzzing. What seemed like hours later a guard approached with a bundle of clean rags.
'Remove your clothes,' Hassan ordered, unshackling his ankles.
Tony narrowed his eyes and stared at him in disgust. 'Can't I change alone?' he asked, deciding to chance an escape.
They scoffed, Hassan pointing to the fresh bundle with his rifle. 'Stop wasting time, dog. You've been fed. Get dressed or remain as you are, you got a minute to decide.'
Tony scowled and pulled off his filthy t-shirt, pleasantly surprised to discover it hadn't yet stuck to his skin. He removed his trousers and underwear a little more reluctantly, hating the sight of Hassan examining his fresh bruises.
'What are you waiting for?' his captor demanded as he stood before them naked.
Tony raised his head, his eyes boring into the terrorist's. 'I need to wash,' he said firmly, pointing to an empty bucket. 'There's no point getting changed otherwise.'
Hassan shrugged slightly displeased. 'Alright. You'll have one bucket.' He spoke to a man outside the door and they waited in silence till he returned with it full of icy water. Gritting his teeth Tony placed his undershirt inside it, rubbing himself all over, taking care to remove the blood from the several bruises the mob's sticks had raised. Face expressionless he worked the cloth into the wounds, aware his minute was long over. Once he was as clean as he could get without the use of soap he slid his arms inside the bucket, bathing his swollen wrists. Both contained deep scars where his cuffs had bitten into torn skin. For the few seconds he was left undisturbed the pain was numbed by the freezing water. He allowed his eyes to shut.
'That's enough, dog,' Hassan snapped, his patience at an end. 'Get dressed.' Leaning against the desk he tossed a worn towel in Tony's direction.
Tony's swollen fingers failed to open in time, the towel landing at his feet. Fighting to keep from wincing he bent down for it, bringing his hands together to save bending the fingers on either hand. Expressionless, he dabbed himself dry, pulling on the bundle of rags they had laid before him. There was a torn undershirt which had once been white, a faded green t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans with threadbare knees. Once he managed to pull them on he bent again, searching for his grimy shoes.
'Sit down, dog,' Hassan ordered, kicking his shoes under the desk. 'You're not going anywhere, so you won't need those. Now let's discuss access codes.' He smiled at Tony, nodding his head at the monitor.
Tony examined the poor condition of the shoe sticking out from beneath the desk in silence. No way in the world you'd walk anywhere in that, Almeida, not even down the smoothest sidewalk at home. It's falling apart!
Hassan rose, taking a stand directly before him, cigarette in his mouth. 'Look at me, dog. You don't look so good. You sure you wanna suffer?'
Tony shook his head slightly. 'No,' he whispered.
'Good. So what is the password I need to access…'
'You're wasting your time, Hassan. I can't tell you that,' he assured him, returning his gaze to the shoe.
Hassan hissed in annoyance, pulled the cigarette from his mouth and held it against Tony's swollen right palm, watching him.
Sick with pain, Tony gasped aloud, struggling against the guard who held him immobile. 'AAH,' he yelped, hot tears in his eyes as it was withdrawn. Shaking, he slumped against the back of the chair, struggling to regain his breath.
Hassan nodded in satisfaction. 'Burns can be dangerous if left untreated, Agent Almeida. They can get infected quickly. What is your password to CTU?' he demanded, bending over him.
Tony remained silent, his heart hammering against his chest, his head swimming with exhaustion.
'You're a fool, Almeida,' his captor assured him. 'Why go through all this suffering? Do you imagine anyone in your country is concerned about your fate? Nobody even wrote a letter of protest or denounced our actions! You have an air force base across the mountains; they could be here within half an hour. Do you imagine they will send even one plane for you?' He kicked Tony in the knee, yanking his head upwards by his hair. 'Answer the question, damn you!'
'No,' he muttered, his heart aching. They should've come for Michelle. She's hurt.
'So why the hell suffer? They abandoned you.'
Once again his hair was yanked, his face meeting Hassan's. 'They got more important things to do,' he said, forcing the pain from his heart.
'They're not doing a blessed thing at the moment,' the man assured him, waving his hand at his computer. 'I would know about it were a mission planned. They just don't care about you, you're shit to them. Why protect them?'
'I'm American,' he whispered, seizing the opportunity to dip his burning hand into the bucket.
Hassan kicked the bucket over watching the healing water slosh on the floor. 'It's your choice, of course. I'll get those codes by the end of the day, one way or the other. It's up to you whether you return to the compound or have the vultures feeding on your carcass!'
He turned away for a moment, leaving Tony with a dismal image of his dying body being attacked by a flock of hungry scavengers that ignored his feebly flailing arms. A cold sweat trickled down his forehead as the terrorist turned to face him. 'Thought about it?' he asked pleasantly.
Tony returned his gaze to the shoe, flinching as the guard seized him while Hassan pressed the smoldering cigarette over the previous burn. Beads of sweat poured down his face as he shrieked, the echoes throwing his scream around the room. Mercifully his brain shut down, worn out by the exhaustion, pain and lack of food suffered during the previous days. He fell forwards, rolling onto the wet floor, coming round at a sharp kick in the ribs.
'Up, dog,' Hassan ordered, yanking him up by his hair and depositing him in the chair. 'We're going to talk today.' He spoke to the man outside who returned with a rope which he bound round his waist, securing him to the chair. 'Password,' Hassan continued as though there had been no interruption.
Michelle glared at the crowded bedroom in increased frustration. Their entire escape bid depended on her position in the yard, but from what she had noticed through the crack in the stones, it was deserted. The men appeared confined to their own room, the yard empty of all but a handful of armed militants. She settled her leg more comfortably and returned her eye to the crack, refusing to concede defeat. Come on you bastards, release us! We're always let out for breakfast. What's different about today? A sneaking suspicion told her the variation in the routine was somehow linked to Tony's removal. Her heart beat faster as she considered the fact that he was being tortured at that very moment.
Rita settled beside her, peering out once she made way for her. 'It's just not happening, right?'
Michelle shook her head. 'I'll go bang on the door and start things,' she decided.
'No,' her mother-in-law begged, taking her hand. 'Sweetheart, this attempt will take all of us. With the men locked away, we wouldn't have a hope. They're gonna have to let us out soon, trust me.'
A long sigh escaped Michelle, who eventually nodded. 'You're right. I'm just so terrified they're hurting him now.' Her eye avoided contact as she focused on the piles of crumpled sheepskins.
'He won't crack,' Rita said softly, twisting her wedding ring.
Michelle stared at her, willing her to continue.
'They're working on him now,' Rita said abruptly, her lips drawn into a thin line. 'He's hurting.' The dim light showed Michelle eyes filled with a fury she'd never before witnessed.
'How?' she began before she stopped, accepting that it was something she would never understand. 'We must go then.'
Rita shook her head. 'We must wait. If we're to help Tony, our timing must be perfect. We only get one shot at this. His life depends on our patience.' She slipped her arm round Michelle. Huddled together in the close confines of the chamber they remained silent, each recalling different memories of Tony, seeking to prop the other up. An eternity later Michelle returned to the crack while Rita knelt on the ground whispering a prayer. She didn't dare to ask whether she felt anything worse had happened.
Eyes screwed into narrow slits he noted the arrival of the newcomer bearing a faded bag similar to the ones he had taken to school. The stranger frightened him as he watched his movements lethargically, as though he were watching him from the safety of his lounge – a merciless interrogator on the TV. Neither Richards nor Johnson would have anything this man was unaware of, he could tell. He noted the contents of the bag as they were emptied onto the desk with an academic fascination, his brain struggling to shut down. Judging by the sun's rays through the tiny window it was mid-afternoon and Hassan had worked on him since dawn. Against his will his eyes flickered to his hands which had been singled out for special attention. They were no longer recognizable as his own appendages, he concluded grimly. His fingers hung in grotesque shapes twisted and broken, attached to burned palms swollen to three times their thickness. Focus Almeida he ordered the part of his brain that recognized the mess in the chair as himself. This guy is here to cause you more pain…It appeared as though the whole world was there to hurt him. His brain closed against the stranger, sending him into merciful oblivion.
Moments later his battered body was dragged from its short period of pain free bliss, icy water poured down his throat. He came round coughing, choking as he fought for breath. Gasping air into burning lungs he gazed at them wildly, racked by a shivering fit. They mocked him, telling each other how close he was to being broken. Hassan slapped his cheek, revealing his even teeth in his smirk. 'Stay with us, dog. Do I get the passwords, or should I ask Rashid to begin? I can promise you he knows how to cause pain.' Tony fixed his gaze on the heel of the shoe, sickened by the thought of more torture. 'You should be honored. He came to visit you all the way from Afghanistan!'
"Ready to go, sweetie?" his mother inquired, her warm brown eyes showing their relief that another week had drawn to an end. He pulled his bag onto his shoulders avoiding her gaze, walking wordless along the corridor without looking back at the kindergarten. Hurrying several steps ahead of her he rounded the corner not wishing her to notice his tears. Her footsteps echoed after him as she ran to catch up, asking repeatedly what was wrong. He ploughed ahead blindly, colliding with the very group he wished to avoid, grabbed by the roughest boy. Slamming his head into the wall, the boy began the same taunting song he had sung the entire week "Tortilla Tony, tortilla Tony…." His song was cut off rather suddenly as he found himself lifted several feet from the ground by an ear, an indignant woman glaring at him. Tony blinked hard, shocked into silence. "Mom" he protested feebly as his mother deposited a huge smack on the boy's leg. To his further amazement the class bully burst into tears, yelling that he would tell his mother. "Please do," Rita agreed, setting him down with obvious reluctance, "but remember one thing. Touch Tony again, and I'll feed you to our dog!" She left, pulling the astonished Tony behind her, his mind struggling with the image of their 13 week old puppy attacking anything other than an unattended shoe.
For a fleeting moment he longed for her presence before his mind cleared enough to reject the idea.
'You're from LA, Mr. Almeida,' Rashid began kneeling beside him. 'I believe it's a beautiful city. You must miss your home and the beach.' Leaning closer, his fillings gleaming in the flashlight, he nodded. 'I too miss my home. Have you ever visited Paris, agent?'
Yet another living example of your speech, Almeida. His intestines twisted as he imagined the several million foreign born militants arriving to interrogate him.
Rashid spoke to the guard who untied him, pushing him off the chair. Feebly he tumbled to the floor, breathing through the pain from his right hand as it impacted with the hard stone surface. He squeezed his burning eyes shut, sparing them a second of focusing on the relentless light that was directed into them. Footsteps moved beside him and he opened an eye, too late to prevent Rashid's boot landing on his hands, his heel crushing the broken bones. A scream escaped him as he slid into a tunnel of blackness.
When he regained consciousness it was dark outside. The room was deserted save for the guard who sat at the desk sipping what resembled a mug of tea. Without moving he ran his eyes through the room, noting nothing with which he could defend himself, feeling his hands were once again fastened behind him and secured to the chair's leg. He remained silent, wishing to lie still in the icy water that had obviously failed to bring him round. He shivered violently, noting a patch of slime beside his face indicating he had vomited at some stage.
Hassan entered with Ali a while later, stepped over his prone body and settled on the desk. Ali kicked his stomach, telling his brother he would no longer have recognized their captive. Rashid joined them moments later, yanking him up by his hair. 'No use pretending you're asleep, Almeida. I know your kind!' He untied his wrists which he examined in silence. 'We've had our introduction,' Rashid continued boastfully. 'Now why don't you sit in that chair and let me bring you some morphine and call a doctor to set your fingers. All you have to do is tell Hassan a few passwords.'
Tony remained stubbornly silent, offering a swift prayer for strength as all four men rose. Rashid picked up a sharpened knife with a curved blade, drawing it along his leg. Tony hissed aloud, his eyes unable to leave the knife, his mind recalling a previous interrogation. It was obvious Rashid had read about it in his military file which had been forwarded to CTU for he pointed at his right knee. 'Remember the color of your knee cap, agent? You'll be seeing it again pretty soon. How many cuts did they give you, a few hundred?'
Icy sweat broke out on his face as his shivering increased. I can't do that again! 'Yeah,' he muttered, desperate to prevent the same treatment at any cost.
Rashid leaned over him, slicing his knee cap while Ali and the guard held him taut. 'Give me the codes, Almeida.' Once again the knife slashed his knee.
Tony moaned aloud, his eyes squeezed shut. Dear God give me strength.
'The codes, you dog. Tell me the codes,' Rashid repeated, carving a third line into his flesh. 'I need your access code and your password.'
Tony struggled against his bonds refusing to meet their eyes. Once again Rashid raised his knife. 'Code and password, you dog,' he snapped. 'I'll give you exactly one minute to speak before I'll have your wife brought over. Do you imagine I'm playing games here? I've broken hundreds of better men than you! Who the hell do you imagine I am?'
'A pig,' Tony breathed, regretting his words a moment later.
Rashid's face reddened at the horrified gasp. 'What did you call me?' he screamed.
Tony remained silent, his head buzzing as the blood painted his leg crimson.
Rashid moved swiftly, knocking him to the floor with a raised fist. Blood squirted from his mouth as he inadvertently bit his tongue. 'You DARE mock me, you serpent? You dare compare me to some unclean animal? You…' He returned the knife to the desk to Tony's relief. 'You're going to apologize on your knees,' he decided, forcing Tony to kneel.
He remained silent, his head spinning. Ali got up and placed a hand under his chin, forcing him to look at them. 'He's an idiot,' he concluded. 'Reminds me of his father. Maybe a whipping would teach him some manners.'
Rashid's eyes lit up and he snapped something at the silent terrorist. The guard seized Tony by the hair and dragged him outside into an enclosed garden, pushing him against a wall. Ali left while the remaining three tied his arms to the gate, ripping the t-shirt from his back. He shivered in the icy gale, his senses fully alert, heart sinking as Ali returned with a whip. Yet again he breathed a silent prayer begging for courage, the words sadly familiar.
They took it in turns to sit in the shelter of the doorway watching him as he spent his second night outdoors drifting in and out of consciousness. Occasionally his battered body gave up the struggle to remain awake and his head fell forward at which point the person watching him would flick him across his raw shoulders with the whip and he would wake up shaking, struggling to grasp his location. Silent mountain peaks witnessed his agony, floating in and out of his peripheral vision as his eyes blurred. As the sun's rays lit the tops of the tallest peak Rashid appeared and cut him loose, whereupon he collapsed in a heap on the ground, no longer able to raise his head. After the few kicks aimed at his ribs failed to get him moving the guard was summoned and he was dragged over the rough courtyard and deposited back in the chair. He refused to open his eyes, terrified he would weep.
'You're a tough bastard,' Rashid remarked, eyeing him with interest. 'I had a man like you once, a Marine. Rather died than told us anything, but that's the reason I remember him. Everyone else spoke in the end, as will you.'
Tony remained silent, the desire to return Michelle home the only reason he struggled against death.
'You remind me of that Marine,' Rashid muttered, grudging respect in his tone. 'It took him three days to die…You'd last another hour or so, I imagine. Let me ask…'
The world dimmed as his lungs struggled for air. His mouth opened instinctively as he gasped, his throat swollen despite no blows landing on it. His head ached violently, he coughed and retched. Rashid rose, grabbing the bucket to pour another load over him when he stopped, frozen. He spoke sharply to the guard who approached and backed away in a hurry, mumbling in terror.
Rashid yelled an order and he returned reluctantly, grabbed Tony by the hair and deposited him in his cell, slamming the door behind him in a hurry. Hitting the ground, Tony lost consciousness yet again.
Ryan Chappelle's forehead creased as he listened to his Canadian counterpart, shaking his head at the man. 'Of course he's a private citizen, Dick! Thing is, he's head of our counter terrorism unit here, so I'd just like you to keep an eye on him while he's on his fishing trip. Which part of the country is he in? I'm not snooping; just want to ensure his safety.'
His colleague smirked, thrilled to possess information Chappelle lacked. 'Seeing as Bauer is a private citizen, I'm not sure I'm authorized to divulge that kind of information,' he replied, forcing himself to repress a chuckle.
'Now Dick, you owe me a few favors,' Ryan reminded him. 'Where's Bauer fishing?'
'I can't tell you that, Ryan,' the chuckle slipped out despite his best efforts. 'See, he evidently figured there's more to catch in the UK, coz he boarded a British Airways flight an hour after he arrived. That plane landed in London a coupla hours ago! Seeing that it was a direct flight, you might need to inquire with MI5.'
'Dammit,' Ryan swore aloud, shaking his head in frustration. 'What in the world would possess anyone to go fishing there, unless….Where was his final destination point? The airport should have a record of his baggage transfers.'
'London, England,' his counterpart replied cheerily.
Chappelle hung up, calling a trusted acquaintance in London, who proved equally unhelpful. Yes, Jack Bauer had indeed arrived at Heathrow and claimed his suitcase. No, he left no forwarding address. No, it would not be a problem to check security footage. 'Just make sure you check the cameras for all passengers boarding flights to India or Pakistan,' Chappelle finished, slamming his phone down. 'Bauer's fired,' he informed Hammond in his usual monotone. 'Find a replacement for him, preferably someone without a problem taking orders!'