Eighteen Days Ago

The Volcano

"My name is Sayid Hassan Jarrah. I used to… I am a torturer. I have tortured many men and women, and some who were too young to be called either, I broke bones, poured scalding oil onto skin, electrocuted live flesh… I did all those horrible things because I was a loyal soldier, and there was a time that I did those thing so that I could survive, and so that my friends could survive. I am not proud of it, I wish I had not done it, or I wish it was someone else who did those things, whatever was the cause…. The things that I've done pale in comparison to what happens in League-run prisons around the world, to people like Aladdin Sane, and to people who did nothing to deserve it… What I have done, what happens in those prisons is something that should not be done by one person to another."

Now

Baltimore, Maryland

Shaun couldn't help but crack a smile as he remembered where he was, who he was and what he was wearing. The waiter arrived with a finely aged bottle of Scotch in an ice bucket and preceded to open it and pour it into the three glasses.

"You look very handsome in that suit, Mister Collier."

The where was one of the city's finest Italian restaurants, where one had to book a week in advance to get a table, a restaurant where the minimum cost of a given meal was in three figures. What Shaun wore was a finely tailored dark blue suit with silver cufflinks and a silk neck-tie.

Lucy sat to Shaun's left, wearing a flowing blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes, while Mona sat at Shaun's right, wearing a black evening gown. Both Shaun's companions were certainly head-turners, and as Priest put it, 'They clean up very nice'. If Shaun cared to look, he'd notice looks of envy and awe from men at nearby tables.

"That he does." said Mona flirtatiously, taking a sip of her Scotch, "You better watch out tonight, Birthday boy, you should make sure to lock your door. I might not be able to control myself."

Shaun laughed and took a sip of his own.

"Oh, you two. If the Red October can't contain my ego on the trip back to Morocco, you have no one to blame but yourselves. Shall we order?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, girls. This night has been amazing."

"Well, it's your birthday and you deserve it."

The three opened their menus and started reading.

"Christ!" gasped Shaun, "Look at all these prices, we can't possible eat here!"

"It's alright, Shaun. Trust me."

"God, I bet Naif is going to blow a gasket when he find out about this… Bloody hell, between the suit, the dinner and the limo we must be in the red."

"Don't worry about it. It's all for free."

"Free? How is that?"

"Well, when Priest and I worked in Gotham, he did a favor for a man called Sal Maroni. Since then, Maroni has gained some turf here in Baltimore. The suit, the dinner and everything is a gift."

"So this is Priest's doing?"

"I guess so."

"Wow. Shame, though." Said Shaun, "I wish he was here, Sayid and O'Brien too. Not that the current company is anything to moan about, of course."

"Lucy and I didn't want anyone around for when we seduce you."

"Oh, Mona, stop it!"

"Besides, I think the boys had other plans."

Priest lifted the window pane open, letting the warm summer breeze in. He looked out the window to the dark street bellow, surprisingly vacant at this time.

Priest took a breath he did not need, savoring in the multitude of aromas, the stench of a sexual encounter that had taken place earlier in the night in the ally to the north, the smell of wet pavement, exhaust fumes and fresh baked bread from the bakery across the street.

"Enjoy it while you can, boy-o."

"Huh? Did you say something to me, big guy?"

Priest turned around to look at O'Brien who lay down on the couch watching TV.

"No, I wasn't, Eel." Said Priest as he retreated back into the apartment. The TV was on, currently being shown was a new report about the support President Charles Logan was getting in Georgetown, hometown of Senator Regan McNeil, Logan's opponent in the upcoming elections. Priest turned off the television, picked up a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream from the coffee table then walked back to the window and sat on the floor by it just as Sayid came in through the front door.

"Prisoner in place?" asked O'Brien as he sat up to make room on the couch for Sayid.

"He's not going anywhere." Said Sayid as he sat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"O'Brien, did you drink my whisky?" asked Priest.

"What are you talking about?"

"This bottle is empty."

"The bottle's mine, Priest. I bought it, you just opened it and drank from it… First thing this morning."

"… Alright. Bygones."

"So what is this drug we're after?" Asked O'Brien.

"Substance C is a second generation derivative of the designer drug called Valkyr from about ten years back. Valkyr was produced by a company founded in part by the Gotham branch of the League. Substance C is manufactured in Gotham, packed in blocks stamped with a Phoenix."

"Who's making it in Gotham?"

"That would be the Gotham cell's job." Said Sayid.

"I bet that Batman guy could find them. Hey, he should be working for us!"

"That's an excellent idea, be sure you tell Al-Sheikh to pass it along to Nemo."

"So why are the League making and dealing drugs, anyway?"

"Same reason everybody does; money." Explained Priest as he stood up and headed to the kitchen, "Project Phoenix would need to be funded out the ass."

"Yeah, but drugs? That's fucked up."

"Not by spy standards." Said Priest as he looked through the fridge for something to drink, "Back in the fifties, the C.I.A. used to fly heroin out of Burma to fund the dirty war against China. By the sixties the Agency was doing the same in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam among others."

"Then there is Afghanistan." Said Sayid, "Your old employers supplied weaponry to the Taliban in exchange for raw opium."

"Exactly."

"Jesus…"

"Yeah, that's how I got into the drug business." Said Priest, "Government training preps you for it."

There was then the sound of chatter, laughter and the clack of heels on uncarpeted floors from outside the apartment.

"They're back." Said Sayid as he stood up.

The door to the apartment opened, revealing Mona, Lucy and Shaun. Lucy was laughing hysterically; she was holding her shoes in one hand and was being carried in Shaun's arms. Mona followed both, uncontrollably giggling and carrying a few plastic bags. It was very obvious that all three were in varying states of intoxication, Lucy being extremely drunk.

"Shauny boy, that is one suit!" said Priest as he greeted the trio, "Mona, stop giggling, you're creeping me out."

"Hey, Priest." Said Mona, trying to control her giggling and handing Sayid the plastic bags, "We brought you leftovers."

"That's very thoughtful of you." Said Sayid with a smile, "How much did Lucy have to drink?"

"Oh, lots. Tomorrow morning she'll have a hangover so bad that she won't be able to read a one year old."

"Alright. Shaun, place Lucy on the sofa."

"Why?" asked Shaun as he did as Sayid asked.

"Mona can help her out of her clothes and get her in to bed."

"Aw, hell." Said O'Brien, "I'll do that."

Sayid shot O'Brien a lot. The thief changed his mind, backing away and saying,

"Or not, you know, it's all cool."

"Mona…"

"Yeah, I'll help her out." Said Mona as she placed a still laughing Lucy's arm over her shoulder and helped her up, "You go do your thing."

"Thank you," said Sayid, "Shaun, you better get rid of your new suit before you join us."

"Shaun!" said Lucy as she was being carried away by Mona, "Nimm mich, Mann Fleisch!"

"Good night, Lucy." Said Shaun with a chuckle, "What exactly are we doing?"

"All in good time. We'll wait for you in the corridor outside, you have three minutes."

----------------------

Priest, Sayid and Shaun got out of the elevator as they reached the building's subbasement.

"We'll have to use our codenames. Michael, Ali and Frank. Michael, I'm aware that you were training to fight and handle firearms back at the volcano for two months." Said Sayid, "Eel had been teaching you some things like pick-pocketing and lock-picking recently, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, well, he's just trying to help me expand my horizons. He didn't mean anything by it."

"You misunderstand." Said Sayid as they walked toward a door at the far side, "I think it's good that you're trying to learn as much as possible. As a matter of fact I was hoping I could teach you a thing or two myself."

"That's great." Said Shaun as the three stood outside the door and Sayid unlocked it, "Like what?"

The door opened, revealing a man tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth.

"Take a wild guess."

Shaun was stunned. The gutful of whisky in him had lost its loosening effect on him. The man in the chair was of his thirties, dressed in street clothes and had a tattoo on his chest and neck that peeked above the collar of his shirt. He did not appear to be harmed, just agitated.

"Wh…Who's that?! What the hell's going on?"

"This is why we came to Baltimore," said Priest, "To find out what this little bastard knows."

"What you man the drugs? I thought we missed it, I thought it already left the city!"

"Yeah, we wanted it to leave the city, it doesn't matter."

"What matters is where it's going." Said Sayid as he watched Priest remove the gag from the man's mouth.

"So tell us where it's headed, Joe, and we can all go home." Said Priest.

"Who the fuck are you people?" Joe angrily asked.

"Long story, but we're not cops or federal agents. Your Miranda rights is something we're not concerned with.".

"What is that supposed to scare me?" scoffed Joe, "You don't even know what you're dealing with."

"Yes, we do."

"Huh, guess that makes you a bunch of sorry idiots."

Priest punched Joe hard in the jaw, whipping his head from one side to the other.

"That's mister Sorry Idiot to you, shitbag." Said Priest, "I'm going to die someday, and I don't intend to waste a perfectly good evening on the likes of you."

"Go blow a dead-horse." Said Joe, spitting out blood.

"You BASTARD!"

Priest punched Joe in the jaw again, this time knocking his chair off its legs. Before it could even settle, Priest reached down and picked him up, setting the chair upright again.

"Where…" Priest barked as he punched Joe again, "The Fuck…. Is the shipment…Going?"

"Frank!" said Sayid, grabbing hold of Priest by the shoulders.

"Tell me, you bastard!"

Shaun joined Sayid as he pulled Priest away from Joe, though it wasn't easy.

"Good god, man! What's wrong with you?"

"It's alright…" said Priest, "I'm calm…I'm calm… I just got a little carried away."

"Carried away? You could've killed him!"

"Oh, this is cute."

The three minutemen looked at Joe, whose eye had swollen up and had a cut on his forehead. Yet he had a smug grin.

"Did you say something, sweetie?"

"Good cop, Bag cop, right? You're the bad cop, and your little brown buddy is the good cop. Hehehheh… Just like being in a cop movie. You guys are pathetic."

"Jig's up, Ali." Mumbled Priest, "We'll just have to beat it out of him."

"That's time we don't have." Said Sayid, "Mike, go get the blow-torch."

"What?" asked Shaun.

"What? Blow-torch, we have a blow-torch?"

"…Pathetic."

"There's one on the shelf by the elevator." Said Sayid, "Get it."

"What the fuck for?" asked Priest.

"What do you think?"

"You're going to burn him alive?"

"I'm not going to kill him. Just a few superficial burns will get him talking. I'l start at his lower back, then move to more painful and obvious areas. Mike, get going."

Shaun hesitated as to what to do.

"Priest, help me string him up."

"Wait, just wait, Ali. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You're… You're bluffing." Joe mumbled.

"SHUT UP!" shouted Priest, "Ali, think about what you're talking."

"I have. What I have in mind will keep him awake and will be more painful than your fists. He'll talk."

"Alright, you don't want to wait while I beat it out of him; that's fine. But come on, there's gotta be something we can do beside burn the fucker."

"Like what?"

"How about a knee-capping?" Priest asked, "One shot, right in the knee-cap. It'll hurt more than anything this bastard's ever likely to feel. It's more humane, is what I'm saying."

"Actually, my method will leave him with the ability to walk."

"What, is this a contest? Mike, do you have your gun on you?"

"No! Guys, are you all out of your minds? You want to burn this bloke, cripple him?"

"It's called the Devil's work for a fucking reason, Mike." Said Priest, "Now go get your gun."

"Getting the blow-torch will take less time than getting the gun." Said Sayid, "We'll go with my plan."

"I..I.. I… I don't buy it!" said Joe in his seat, unsurely.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" cursed Priest, "Look, there is a hose over there and a tap. We'll pull his shirt over his head, try waterboarding."

"Waterboarding, huh?"

"Waterbarding?" asked Joe, "The hell is that?"

"Don't worry," said Priest sarcastically, "We're bluffing."

"Alright." Said Sayid, "We'll give it a few minutes, and then switch to my method."

"That's all I wanted to hear." Said Priest, "Mike, go get the blow torch."

"You nutters, you can't be serious!"

"Mike, if this offends you sensibilities, then you can wait outside until we call you."

"Sayid…"

"Mike!"

Shaun hung his head, before walking away, heading out the door. He could hear the sound of struggle as Joe resisted his horrific fate, the sound of the tap as it was turned. He picked the blow-torch off the shelf and then headed back, dragging his feat in shame.

Shaun opened the door, Joe was in his seat, flanked by Sayid and Priest who were already removing the man's t-shirt from his head while the hose rested on the ground, spitting water out onto the floor. Joe inhaled in relief.

"Put that thing down, Mike." Said Priest, "It's over."

"What?"

"Madrid." Said Sayid, "That's where the drugs are heading."

"He talked? Already?"

Priest punched Joe one last time, knocking him out cold.

"Yep." Said Priest as he was untying Joe, "We didn't even have to do any of the actual torture. He just fell for the oldest of interrogation techniques. Bad cop…"

"Worse cop." Said Sayid, "Where are you taking him?"

"I'm going to dump him somewhere like a church." Said Priest as he carrid Joe out on his shoulders, "Happy birthday, Shaun."

----------------------

"What was the meaning of all that?" asked Shaun, smoking a cigarette, somewhat still upset.

"An interrogation, something that our unit will be doing many times as long as we operate." Said Sayid as he smoked a cigarettes of his own. The two stood under a street light outside their building.

"Jesus Christ…"

"Shaun, what did you expect us to be doing? Really?"

"Not this! What the hell makes you think I want to learn any of this?"

Sayid rolled his eyes.

"Tell me, Sayid; were you really going to torture him?"

"Shaun, I was counting on him panicking; losing all his bravado and telling us what we wanted to know." Said Sayid, "Interrogation relies on mind games, playing on your adversary's fears and emotions. I knew he was afraid of getting burned, and would believe that he was going to be burned as soon as we began the waterboarding. If we hadn't instilled that fear in him, the waterboarding would have had less of a chance to succeed."

"That doesn't answer my question, were you going to do what you were talking about?"

"I hoped I wouldn't. But I was prepared to do so. If he hadn't lost his nerve, I would have went ahead with it, and I might have even burned him. And believe me when I say that Priest would have had no problem with shooting him in the knees."

"Oh, Christ…"

"I'm sorry you saw what we did, but you had to. There might come a time when you would find yourself in that situation. And when you do, you must have what it takes to make the best of it.

"Shaun, Al-Sheikh meant everything he said three weeks ago, we're going against an enemy more powerful than us and to stand toe to toe, we must match their ruthlessness. This is a war we're fighting, make no mistake about it."

"Yeah, alright… I understand. I just didn't expect it."

"I hope this doesn't ruin anything, Shaun. I really do."

Sayid walked up the steps to the front door.

"Are you coming?"

"I don't think so. I guess I'll wait for Priest."

"That reminds me, in the basement you called me by my real name. Be sure that never happens again."

"Right. Sorry."

"Goodnight, Shaun."

"Take care, Sayid."

As soon as Sayid was back inside, Shaun grunted loudly, grabbing hold of his head with both hands.

"What the hell have I got myself into?"

A moment later, Shaun's phone beeped. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. He had an incoming text message from an overseas number. Shaun pressed the read button and the message was displayed.

Jimmy here. CK Chelios lives at 1287 Statham st . Islington.

Shaun read the message over and over, his heart pounding hard, he held his breath for the better part of a minutes, his vision growing blurry.

Shaun mumbld, "Liz."

Sorry about the delay, I just wasn't sure what to do with the interrogation scene. I hope you liked it.

R&R.

Next Chapter: I feel like writing a story set in the past. One idea is a story about Bond early in his career, where he meets Priest who was working for the CIA at the time, the time being the early 60s. Anyway, this time you can suggest what you would like me to writ about, as long as it is set before 1970.