I was slowly becoming aware of my surroundings. My head was pounding and I had no desire to open my eyes. I could vaguely hear voices, muffled, as if they were far away.

I became fully awake when a bucket of water was thrown on me. Soon after, I realized that I was tied to a chair.

"Ah, Captain Dietrich! So nice of you to rejoin us," said a bright voice.

I gradually opened my eyes to see a stocky man casually sitting in a chair several feet in front of me. He had thick blonde hair and pale blue eyes and if it hadn't been for his accent, he could have passed for one of my native countrymen. At first, I thought that the voice sounded British, but the accent was off slightly. I decided he was probably from, or had at least spent a considerable amount of time in South Africa. Behind him stood two men, both appearing to be Arabic, along with the woman I had met in the bar. She was still wearing the same simple black long sleeved dress.

"Stuart Guest, here," the man spoke again.

Now I was positive Guest was a native of South Africa. I also noticed that Guest was not wearing an Allied uniform. My instincts warned me that he was not connected to the British war effort. He must have a different motive for abducting me, I thought. I wondered what it could be, but I knew that I would likely find out soon enough.

Guest moved his chair closer. The overpowering odor of cologne immediately engulfed me. Its sweet, feminine scent made my nausea rise again. I couldn't help but think the man must literally be bathing with the liquid instead of with water.

"I'm honored to be in your presence, Captain Dietrich. The list of your attributes is nearly endless!"

I wanted to tell Guest that he had me at a disadvantage, but the effort that it would have taken to have the words come out hardly seemed worth it. He didn't seem to mind and continued on, reciting facts about me as if he had written a dossier.

"You are from an excellent and prestigious family with a famous father and socialite mother. A 1934 graduate near the top of your academy class. You are a war hero, awarded the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves, highly respected by the Germans as well as known and feared by the Allies. You reported directly to Rommel himself in the early days of the desert campaign."

I couldn't help but to be surprised that the man had troubled himself to know so much about me. Again, I wondered what he could possibly want with me.

His next words were ominous and confirmed my suspicions.

"I would imagine that you are probably wondering why you are waking up with a terrible hangover, tied to a hard chair instead of basking in the afterglow in a soft bed with a woman?"

I inclined my head, all too interested to hear the answer.

"Well I don't want to leave you hanging, then. I'll be happy to tell you the reason why you are here."

Guest moved his chair even closer. So close was he now, I could smell his acrid perspiration unconcealed by the cologne. He leaned in, as if he was ready to tell me the great secrets of the world.

"I am only going to ask you for a simple piece of information. Once you provide it, you are free to leave here, with absolutely no consequences."

No consequences? I wondered how stupid Guest thought me. The man had clearly stated his name and allowed me to see his face. I seriously doubted that he would allow me to merely walk out the back door once he was finished with me, no matter what he said. His over lack of caution was all I needed to confirm that Guest would put me to death once I had given whatever information he was seeking.

"You may return to the Afrika Korps, what little is left of it, or you may stay here in Ater and wait out the war," Guest continued. "I myself suggest the latter."

I narrowed my eyes in response. I could care less what Guess was suggesting. I cared only marginally more that he had such a low opinion of me as to think me a deserter.

"Oh, come now! Don't look so offended, Captain. It's not such a bad suggestion, is it? There is still the very realistic possibility you will be killed in combat. And even if you are to survive Germany's defeat, this neutral town offers so many more amenities than a POW camp. You could avoid either unfortunate consequence. But as I said, the choice is up to you."

I stared at the wall beyond Guest's head. I already found him tiresome and wished that he would get to the point.

Guest clucked his tongue, obviously disappointed in my continued lack of response. "Oh Captain! Was I so wrong to think that you are a reasonable man?"

One of the other men said something I was unable to catch.

Smiling thinly, Guest nodded. "Yes, I do agree that the Captain is at least polite." He turned his attention back to me. "Look old chap, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I myself would much prefer to do it the easy way. I believe you would, too. It's ever so much simpler. A lot less mess and bother for the both of us."

I maintained my silence.

"Come now, Captain!" Guest cajoled. We really have no time for this. You know as well as I do that it's not going to change the end result."

I continued to hold his gaze, not wavering.

"I see." Guest sighed and made a motion to one of the other men. "Tristan, would you be so kind? We need to loosen up the Captain a bit, provide him with an incentive to cooperate."

The taller man immediately approached me and struck me across the face. When I still didn't speak, he struck me a second time, harder than the first time.

Guest smiled. "A simple yes or no confirming your understanding is the only answer you need to provide me currently."

"Yes," I finally agreed reluctantly.

"Good! We're already making progress. See how easy that was? Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"

"I truly have no idea what business that we could possibly have."

"Let me enlighten you then. An excellent and most reliable source has provided me with a very valuable piece of information. Apparently you and Sergeant Troy possess something which I dearly want. Now, what I require from you is very simple and straightforward. And I would think that because of its simplicity I should only have to request it once."

At the mention of Troy, I gave Guest a puzzled look despite myself.

Guest smiled. "Ah! I see that I have your interest now!"

And he did have my interest. What was Troy's involvement? What could Troy and I possibly possess together that Guest would desire?

"At this very moment, Sergeant Troy is tied to an identical chair in the very next room. I thought I would question you first since you seem to be a far more reasonable man than he."

Despite the seriousness of my situation, I very nearly smiled. By default, I could only be more reasonable. Troy, in all of his stubborn American pig headiness was nothing near being a reasonable man.

"I will tell you what I want: I want the Nazi gold in Troy's and your possession. Or, at the very least, I would like the location where the two of you have hidden it."

I couldn't stop my eyebrows from reaching nearly to my hairline.

"With your combined knowledge of the desert, it would not have been difficult for the two of you to stash it in a secluded location to be retrieved later, like when the desert war is over. Which, as you must be aware of, should be any day now."

"What gold?" It was so ridiculous that I almost burst out laughing.

"Oh, Captain! You disappoint me! Surely you can do better than such feigned innocence! Can't you appreciate what finding this gold would mean? Now, just tell me where it is so I can release you and Sergeant Troy."

Now at least, I understood Guest's motives. This was all in regards to money. While I had not ruled out the possibility of him being a British deserter, I doubted that he had any patriotic feelings towards the English. I assumed that he was using this opportunity strictly for his own personal gain. He was obviously a profiteer. Guest had probably been in the area for years before the war, making money any way possible, legally or illegally.

Suddenly weary, I sighed. "Exactly who told you this preposterous story regarding hidden Nazi gold?"

"A very dear friend of yours, who just happens to be a frequent client of mine. Willy didn't have any hard currency for sex and candy a few nights ago. He traded information as payment for the goods and services provided. He was rather desperate, you see." Guest shook his head in mock sadness. "I can only assume he wanted one last minute of serenity before heading off to a POW camp for the unforeseeable future."

Willy? I was puzzled for a few seconds about who "Willy" could be. I had no friends named Willy. Then it suddenly dawned on me. I looked up intently at Guest.

He only smiled, realizing I had correctly identified my betrayer.

So it was Wilhelm Meyer for whom I could blame for my current situation. There could be no other "Willy". Really, Meyer's betrayal did not surprise me in the least. He had vowed for years to seek revenge against me due to his anger and jealousy.

And now, Meyer had finally followed through on his threats.

I assumed Guest's passing statement on Meyer's "condition" was an allusion to a drug dependency. While I received no satisfaction from it, I knew that my suspicions from over the years had finally been confirmed. Meyer must have known I would be visiting the town on my furlough and used it to his advantage. He had seized the opportunity, concocting the lie concerning the gold. It had apparently paid off two fold, satisfying his hunger for drugs and for revenge against me.

The additional opportunity to betray Troy would have been an added bonus to Meyer, I concluded. After all, I had assumed Meyer's post due to his inability to contain Troy and the Rat Patrol. Although my successes at stopping Troy's marauding had been few and far between, I had at least been somewhat able to limit his operations. Where Meyer had totally failed, I had seen some success. It had been just one more insult to Meyer's ego that he couldn't forgive.

Vaguely, I could understand how Guest could have drawn a connection between the leader of the Rat Patrol and myself. He would not have been the first. It had not gone unnoticed by the German command that the Rat Patrol had continually escaped my efforts to put an end to their menace. While I had always been able to justify my failures, it had become more and more difficult as the war progressed.

Satisfied that I had the answers, I returned my focus to Guest.

"And you were foolish enough to believe a drug addict?" The idiocy of the entire situation was worse than preposterous.

"I believed Meyer's information enough for a one-time trade of heroin. Cheap enough, and I thought that it could prove to be a good investment."

Not only was Meyer using drugs, but he was using the extremely potent narcotic of heroin. I felt a sudden distaste and disdain at Meyer's weakness and inability to control himself.

Well, I thought. Guest had heard the lie, now it was time he heard the truth. I only hoped that it was as easy for him to believe. "There is no gold, Guest."

"Don't be coy with me, Captain. It does not become you," Guest said.

"I'm afraid it's not me who has lied to you. Meyer knowingly gave you false information in exchange for heroin. Any remaining 'Nazi' gold was shipped to Berlin weeks ago when it became obvious the Afrika Korps would fall. Meyer would have been aware of this fact."

Guest, for once, was silent as he seemed to consider the probability of the truth in my words against what Meyer had told him.

"Besides, if I had possessed anything of value," I continued, "I would have used it to purchase supplies for my men."

Guest snorted. "I wish I had a guinea for every time I heard an officer utter those words while he was secretly living the life of luxury. I would be a very rich man indeed, Captain."

"I already am a wealthy man. As it is, it would be impossible for me to spend what I currently possess in my lifetime. I have no use for any additional money."

"They say that 'one can never be too rich.' And as I'm an absolute believer in that sentiment, I will err on the side of caution." Guest thought for a moment. "Speaking of your family's wealth . . . I did consider holding you for a substantial ransom. Perhaps they would pay for your release?"

This time I did actually laugh out loud.

"If you know my background as well as you claim, Guest, you are already aware of my estrangement from my family. My father would never pay a ransom for me. He would consider me collateral damage in the complexities of war. Not to mention that he would judge my situation as the deserved result for being foolish enough to be captured by a profiteer."

"You will be the last Dietrich to carry on the family name. Truly a shame." Guest wisely dismissed the idea of ransoming me. "Ah well, we'll just need to return to the reality of your current situation then. If you would just get on with it and tell me what I have asked?"

"There is nothing for me to tell you. You may ask me a thousand times and my answer will not change."

Guest sighed loudly and then shrugged. "It looks like we'll be here for a while, so we might as well be friendly. May I call you Hans?"

"I reserve my given name for my family and close friends, Guest. Call me Dietrich."

"Calling you by your surname is a tad too sterile for my tastes, especially considering our continued close proximity. I will continue to call you 'Captain' out of respect for your rank and accomplishments.

"As you wish."

"Now, as I was saying, Captain, you will provide me the information I'm seeking, one way or the other."

Again, I stared at the wall. Obviously, I had failed in convincing the man that there was no information to give. I darkly wondered how long Guest would torture me before he realized that it was I that was telling him the truth.

"By any chance are you a dancer, Captain?" Guest asked me suddenly.

Before I could answer, Guest turned to one of his men. "Tristan, please remove his boots," he ordered.

The man quickly stripped the boots and socks from my feet. Guest handed Tristan a thick ruler and gave him a short nod. Tristan proceeded to bring it quickly down on my feet. The unexpected pain caused me to inhale sharply.

"Answer, please, Captain. Do you dance?"

"Poorly," I lied.

Guest was silent for a moment and then brightened. "I know! You play the piano? You certainly have the hands for the skill." He nodded to Tristan.

Tristan brought the ruler down hard across the fingers of my left hand.

I grimaced. "Even worse than I dance, I'm afraid."

"Your lack of talent certainly doesn't present me very many options, Captain," Guest said regretfully. He considered for a moment. "Not the feet nor the hands. Well, I guess we can turn to a more traditional way. Give a little nod back to my British Royal Navy ancestors. The Navy's old method certainly does bring results, I must admit. I suppose that the classics never go out of style, do they?"

I felt a growing knot in my stomach. It was obvious Guest planned on torturing me until I confessed. There was nothing I could do to prevent it unless I provided him with false information. Even if I did invent a hiding spot, Guest would no doubt cross reference it with Troy. Knowing Troy, he was even less likely to break than myself. The end result would not change: We would still be killed when Guest was finished with us.

For lack of any better solution, I decided to try to reason with Guest again. "Have you considered the possibility, Guest, that the man willing to betray me has already betrayed you? Provided you with false information to suit his own purpose?"

My question was answered with a wicked laugh.

"Of course it has! And wouldn't that just make for a delightful twist? But, in the end, it doesn't really matter. You know, Willy Boy said it would take an awful lot to make you to talk."

Considering that Meyer knew that I had nothing to talk about, I thought, I was sure that he had.

"He also said that he would have stuck around to enjoy the entertainment, but in the end, he had to give his regrets. Apparently, he had an impending date with the English Eighth Army which he just couldn't miss."

Briefly, I wondered what engagement Meyer had with the 8th Army. Perhaps he was surrendering? Like the coward that he was, I thought. Truly, though, I knew that it was more likely that he just wanted to avoid facing me.

Guest pushed his chair back, moving to stand by me. Tentatively, he gently touched my cheek with his index finger. Then, bolder, he stroked my skin.

Reflexively, I tried to pull away but the bindings stopped me. I was forced to endure the touch and the frank scrutiny of the repugnant Guest. Honestly, I would have preferred that he had continued to have me beaten with the ruler.

"You are a handsome man, Captain. Even Cheri commented on your good looks, and at this point, nothing really moves her. Won't it be a shame to ruin such a fine specimen?"

With that, mercifully, he finally turned his attention from me. "Tristan and Nasir, flog him until he talks," Guest ordered.

I drew myself as straight as I could. "We are in for a very long day, Guest, if you are waiting for me to talk. Because there is nothing for me to tell you."

"Oh, you will talk in the end. Trust me when I say, my dear Captain, that I'm the one getting the short end of the stick here. Having to wait until you and Sergeant Troy break is going to be pure torture for me."

Guest suddenly gave an amused laugh. "Short end of the stick! Torture! I made a funny!"

"I want to watch," Cheri said calmly, speaking for the first time. She walked up to Guest and linked her arm through his. "I've never seen a man tortured before. It should be something interesting to watch."

"You know, I've been getting poor feedback on your recent performances. Perhaps this is the inspiration that you've been needing? You'll be positively purring like a kitten tonight for the customers, Cheri Darling." Guest patted her hand. "You're also free to witness Troy's beating if it will give you any jollies."

"No, I only want to watch the Boche. He insulted me and deserves whatever happens to him," Cheri said coldly

"Never realized you savored revenge so sweetly, my dear. I'll have to remember that, won't I?" Guest gave Cheri a look and then cleared his throat. "Well then, we'll watch together. It's been a while since we've shared something like this, something so intimate."

Guest walked to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a wicked looking narrow whip. "And what, really, is more intimate than watching a man fall to pieces? Be it at the hand of pleasure." He arced it through the air a few times, smiling as it snapped. "Or at the hand of pain."

My bindings were loosened and the two men roughly pulled me to the other side of the room. There were short manacles hanging from the wall and I was quickly clasped in them. My face was against the wall and my arms were up above my head, pulled wide apart. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but even more so when I realized the purpose of the stance. It pulled flesh and muscle taught across my back, all the better to inflict maximum damage and pain from the cutting blows of the lash.

I felt Tristan take my shirt collar in both hands and pull until the material ripped. He pulled the ruined garment from my body exposing my back.

Tristan caressed my exposed skin like a lover.

"Such beautiful skin! So smooth and so fine. Not a blemish on him, Mr. Guest," he pronounced reverently.

I ground my teeth as I tried to recoil from him.

Guest snorted. "That's an officer for you, Tristan. Pampered and protected."

"What a shame it is, that in a mere moment, all that fine skin will look like a dog's dinner." With a final touch, Tristan ran his finger down the knobs of my spine. "It will never be beautiful again."

I shivered at both the man's touch and at his words.

"Indeed, Tristan, indeed." Guest came past Tristan and grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. He put his sweaty cheek next to mine, his breath heavy and moist with excitement. "Captain, I'm giving you a final chance. Where is the gold?"

I stood there in silence, staring at the wall in front of me. I could feel the tension increase in the room as they waited for my reply.

When I gave them none, Guest made a resigned noise and pushed my head away. "Well, then, you can't say that I didn't try. Feel free to scream, Captain. There's no shame in it," Guest said. "Everyone ends up screaming in the end, you know."

"I want to hear him scream, Stuart. Will he scream?" Cheri asked, a cold fascination in her voice.

"Oh, he will, my dear," Guest assured her. "Tristan, after we have begun with the captain, we'll start in on the sergeant. Though, I do believe Sergeant Troy will be a harder nut to crack."

"Yes, Mr. Guest. Maybe hearing the Captain will make the Sergeant more cooperative?" Tristan suggested.

"Exactly what I was thinking! And you know that I always say that variety is the spice of life. So with Troy, I was thinking, that instead of flogging him, we'll work on his feet." Guest paused for a moment, apparently still strategizing. "And then, Nasir, once Tristan begins with Captain Dietrich, we'll move next door to loosen up Sergeant Troy. We'll play each against the other to improve our progress."

"Sounds like a very good idea, Mr. Guest," Nasir responded.

Apparently satisfied that everyone knew the plan and their place in it, Guest finally gave the direction that I had been dreading:

"Tristan, please commence. But make sure you only lash his back. Let's stay away from that handsome face."

I could hear the thin leather whistle through the air before the whip even made contact with my flesh. When it did, the sensation was almost indescribable. It felt like someone had set a knife on fire before slicing it into me. It was so intense, I couldn't help gasping from the pain.

"Oh, yes," I heard Guest murmur. "That's it."

I heard something in Guest's voice and tried to identify it. Even when I did, I thought that surely I must be mistaken.

"That's it. Oh, yes, that's it. More, please, Tristan."

Guest's voice was heavy with what I could now plainly identify as arousal. I had not been mistaken. I cursed myself for allowing myself to fall into the hands of a perverted mad man.

The blows were coming at a steady pace. Trying to focus on anything that would help me to block out the pain, I turned my thoughts elsewhere.

Of all things, I latched onto Kommandant Eberhardt Schnass' office.

Vividly, I recalled the time when I had been summoned there to answer for the disastrous prank that had almost ended my military career before I had even graduated from the Academy. As I did then, I counted the books behind him, waiting for Schnass to speak.

Behind my tightly closed lids, I began focusing on the color of the books' binding and how they were arranged on the shelf.

Tan, then blue, green, tan again, red . . .

The flogging was causing me to lose my concentration. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus. I redoubled my efforts to keep my reality at bay.

Again, I saw the books. Second shelf, now, I told myself: Tan, blue, red, green, tan, red, scarlet red, blood red. The same bright red color of blood shed by a man, like the blood that I could feel trickling out of all the furrows in my back. . .

Try as I might, I couldn't even picture Schnass' face, much less his office. My ability to be able to concentrate on anything but the painful reality of my situation was gone.

Then, just as Guest had promised, I began screaming just like all the others before me.