Enticement

There were storybook style pirates all around him, carrying him bodily into a cave, holding him down, fastening chains to his hands and feet. It was surreal. Nothing about the situation made sense. Wanting information, threatening torture. Despite the bluster, they were no match for him.*

At the visitor's quarters Foley addressed Nelson in a businesslike manner, "I want to know about the new missile facility commissioning. I need the co-ordinates, dates, times, security details, passcodes, and names of the other delegates. You will give me this information."

Nelson exchanged an uneasy look with Crane then answered, "I won't tell you that."

"Ah, but I think you will. I encourage you to do so."

Nelson was apprehensive but didn't reply.

"Oh don't worry, I won't hurt you, Admiral. You are Seaview's top officer and we need you to attend the commissioning and follow our directions while you're there."

Nelson glanced at Crane. The two men understood each other well; Crane was the delegate. In a lightening-fast exchange of silent understanding they decided together that Foley would not learn it from them. It was a decision made so quickly and easily, one that would cost them both dearly. Again Nelson made no response to Foley.

Foley nodded to his men who shoved Crane aft to the engineering terminal fitting coming up from the deck. They turned the struggling Crane and forcefully backed him against the pipes, bound his wrists behind his back, and secured them to the valve.

Speaking just to the Admiral now Foley continued. "You don't need to wonder, I tell you plainly and simply. I intend to encourage your co-operation through your Captain. So it's your choice, but it is well known to some that you treat him like a brother. You won't want him damaged. You will tell me."

Nelson was shoved down into a chair. He was terrified to see it had been bolted to the deck, a prison. His wrists were quickly strapped to the arms. Nelson's face openly showed his apprehension; in contrast Crane tried to mask his overwhelming trepidation.

The message is right here. It's here. Don't give it up. Don't let them know. They must not get it.

"Ok, Admiral, this is your one and only chance to do this easily. Tell me what I want to know about the commissioning and this is all over quickly … and painlessly."

Nelson cast a fleeting, questioning glance at Crane. The Captain's eyes showed alarm but clearly negated divulging anything and he gave the faintest, nearly imperceptible, shake of the head as he swallowed the fear. Nelson looked back at Foley, "You know I can't tell you anything classified."

"All right. That was your one chance." Foley glanced over to Crane, "Break his ribs."

"No! Wait!" Nelson shouted tugging at the straps on his wrists trying to buy time.

There was no waiting. Foley meant business and wanted the Admiral to know it. Messer and Whelan with anticipation advanced on Crane whose trepidation gave way to active alarm. Crane twisted to evade them, but Whelan stepped behind Crane, wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulders then yanked his upper body back over the pipes.

No! Don't give it up. Don't. Don't cry out. Don't hurt the Admiral.

As Crane struggled frantically, in dread of the inevitable coming moments, Messer stepped forward and raised a long gun in his hands. The butt landed a crushing blow on the Captain's rib cage. Crane groaned sharply as his ribs cracked, and the breath was forced from his lungs. After a few moments Whelan released him and in a few moments more his body heaved as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

Nelson struggled frantically against his bonds, his eyes locked on the Captain.

Without obscuring Nelson's view of Crane, Foley casually pulled up a chair and sat facing Nelson watching his reactions intently.

The Admiral, gripping the armrests in sympathetic distress, focused exclusively on Crane. He instinctively stopped breathing since Lee couldn't breathe yet. His lungs began to burn before Lee finally gasped and inhaled, Nelson with relief breathed in too.

"You felt that." Foley quietly observed to Nelson. "Excellent, a true vicarious experience. Let's have that settle in for a while shall we, Admiral? No rush. We can just sit back and enjoy Messer's artistry you and I." Messer walked all around the gasping Captain openly revelling in the discomfort he saw before him.

Crane got his breath back and straightened up some. Hunched a bit despite his effort. He glared at Messer with hot eyes and furious anger, wanting to retaliate. Messer's dark hooded eyes stared back unblinking, cold, intent. With a jolt like a fizzing shock Crane understood instantly. Messer meant to kill him.

Messer reached forward and traced his finger through the sweat on Crane's forehead continuing the sweep down his cheek to his jaw. He pressed his finger there for a moment like a seal on the promise of death. Crane jerked his face away, shuddering in revulsion at the abhorrent touch.

Foley had a plan. The first abrupt damage to get the Admiral's attention then a somewhat decreased intensity to wear him out. It he didn't divulge what Foley wanted that would be followed by shocking affronts and finally brutal assaults. He had just gotten the Admiral's attention.

In the control room, Morton was given his instructions. He must carry on all of the boat's usual routine activity as scheduled but no other actions would be allowed. He was to change course and order silent running with passive sonar only so they could disappear. Radio silence was a given. Morton started considering many options.

Back in the visitor's quarters, Lee was beaten. It was done so very slowly, with so much time between each blow that the brutal waiting was devastating. It sapped their resolve. Foley allowed plenty of time for both men to experience the full effect of each blow, Crane in his body and Nelson by seeing the result. Then extra time was allowed to increase the apprehension for the next strike.

Messer was practicing his art; he was a master. He developed apprehension in the man. He used his eyes to cause the man to expect a blow to one place then undermined that expectation by striking the man somewhere else or not at all so the dreadful anticipation went on and on. He used fake outs, played mind games, to heartlessly build expectation, feinted, then struck in earnest when the man didn't expect it. He wanted the suspense to cause the man and the other one to recoil and blench, so lots of time was used for maximum discomfort to develop for both. The suffering exceeded the damage inflicted at this point. Messer relished the distress he was causing.

They are using this pain to torture the Admiral. Don't let the Admiral see the pain. Hide it. Can't stop the groans, can't, but hide the pain. Stifle the yells. Don't scream. Don't hurt the Admiral.

Later, outside the visitor's quarters Chief Sharkey and Riley heard the sounds of a blow and the Skipper's groans. They eyed each other in distress. Sharkey rushed forward to report to Mr. Morton.

Several hours had past, the two officers were untied. The Captain stood swaying a few moments then turned and hanging onto the fitting sank to the floor, and sat leaning propped against it. Foley declared, "Time for you to have your dinner, Admiral."

"What about Captain Crane?"

"Oh I don't think he feels much like eating. His digestive system is pretty battered at the moment. Food isn't likely a top priority for him right now."

"At least let me put him on one of the cots."

"No, leave him where he is."

As he was firmly escorted out of the compartment Admiral Nelson glanced back at Lee with undisguised concern.

Lee rested for a while gathering his strength then got up. He felt nauseous and ill. The guards didn't stop him so he staggered to one of the cots and lay down.

* Dead Men's Doubloons