Free Out Of The Night by Geri Foster

roughly, no one had hurt him yet.
    After twenty-five years with the CIA, he knew the time would come when someone would either interrogate him or cut off his head in front of a video camera.
    He knew too many names and too many secrets for whoever had him not to exploit the situation. Joe figured either way, he’d be a dead man.
    Of course, every man hoped he could stand-up under a tough interrogation, especially all those Special Forces guys. Joe knew better. A human body could only endure so much pain before the spirit broke.
    He’d done it too many times himself. Every man could be broken. At some point , you spilled your guts just to stop the suffering.
    So far, Joe had been spared that kind of treatment, which surprised the hell out of him. He ’d figured by this time he’d be dead and buried in a shallow grave somewhere. But that hadn’t happened. What were his captors up to?
    The bolt slammed back and an Arabic woman wearing a pale blue burqa brought him a tray of food. She came regularly. Twice a day, every one of the fifteen days he’d been here if he’d counted correctly.
    With her completely covered, nothing gave away her age, except her hands, and they revealed a young woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She, like most women in the region, didn’t wear a wedding ring , so he didn’t know her marital status.
    Her role in the abduction confused him as well. She never spoke, and an armed guard always accompanied her into the bunker where they held him. It was nighttime now, for she held a lantern to light her way.
    Joe had nothing in the concrete bunker. No light, no windows, and no furniture. He sat chained to the wall on a dirt floor. They’d rigged his shackles , so he could reach his food and drag himself to a bucket where he relieved himself. He could stand and walk about three feet before the restraints stopped him.
    When the woman placed the food down, she stepped over and replaced his bucket with an empty one. Then she left the lantern in a far corner , so he could eat his food.
    Once she was outside, the bolt struck home and Joe was alone. He picked up the spoon and shoved the food into his mouth. It was always a little too spicy for him, but he ate to keep up his strength.
    Tonight , he heard voices from outside, a man and a woman. Joe understood every word of Farsi they spoke.
    The woman whispered, “I don’t like it.”
    “It will be fine, Hana.”
    “If the Americans come, they will kill us.”
    “No one knows he’s here. If they did, they would have come to get him.”
    “And kill us in the process, Hussein?”
    “No, Nadir has promised me if we keep the American safe until Youssef can transfer him to Iran, we will be well paid.”
    “I don’t know why you listen to your insane cousin. He is a radical. He hates America and now he will get you killed.”
    “No, that won’t happen.”
    “If you die, Hussein, what will become of me and our children?”
    The voices drifted off into the night.
    Oh, Christ. Sweat popped out on Joe’s forehead like a water sprinkler and the piece of bread in his hand fell to the floor.
    He and the CIA were very familiar with the name Youssef, as in el Jibar.
     

 
     
    CHAPTER TEN
     
    Moscow
    Viktor Pertinolf stood outside the apartment building where Boris Gurov lived. He watched the lights go out in one room only to come on in another.
    Petr Solovyov crushed out his cigarette and leaned against the parked vehicle. “What do you think?”
    “That little fucker is in on the whole thing.”
    “You think he knows who Archuletta is?”
    “He’s too shit stupid to know anything. My guess is someone paid him to keep his mouth shut and let that bitch walk in and take the prisoner.”
    Viktor wanted to blow-up the whole fucking building and kill everyone inside. How stupid could people be? He had given no orders for his prisoner to be moved, especially to the cells where common prisoners were housed. Someone all but opened the fucking doors