Free Bad Soldier: Danny Black Thriller 4 by Chris Ryan Page A

single-storey, and small. Little more than a hut. As Danny shone his torch in that direction, a second flashlight appeared outside the building, and Danny could just make out the silhouette of the figure holding it.
    The rain suddenly intensified. Still dragging his prisoner, Danny led the others towards the figure. When they were five metres away, the figure turned and walked through an open door into the building. They followed him in, out of the rain.
    By the light of his torch, Danny saw that the inside of the building was empty, except for a staircase along the left-hand wall, leading downwards. He directed his torch towards the figure, who had now lowered his. He was wearing a hooded raincoat, which was dripping on to the stone floor. Danny couldn’t see much of his face.
    ‘Penfold,’ the man introduced himself in a thin, reedy voice. ‘MI6. Are these the prisoners?’
    Danny resisted the urge to give a sarcastic response, and was glad that Spud managed to hold his tongue too. He just nodded.
    ‘Follow me, please,’ Penfold said. He walked across the room to the staircase and started walking down.
    All of a sudden Danny’s prisoner, who had been so accommodating up till now, started to struggle. Danny jabbed an elbow just below his ribs. He doubled over, coughing violently. Danny pulled him down the steps, making sure he didn’t fall. No point in him breaking any bones just yet.
    There was a steel door at the bottom of the stairs. The man who had introduced himself as Penfold unlocked it at three points before opening it up. Danny squinted. The corridor beyond was brightly lit by flickering, fluorescent strips along the ceiling. On either side were identical steel doors with rivets, and at the far end a further door, guarded by two men in civvies, but with handguns holstered to their hips. Penfold shuffled down the corridor in front of Danny and the others, dripping water from his raincoat as he went. ‘Technically speaking,’ he said, without looking back at them, ‘this place doesn’t exist. You’ll need to forget about it once you’ve left.’
    ‘What was it originally?’ Danny asked. He sensed it was an old building that had been reassigned to its new purpose.
    Penfold frowned, as if he didn’t like being asked the question. ‘Bomb shelter,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Second World War.’ He reached the armed guards. ‘It’s OK, you can let our guests through.’
    One of the guards unlocked the door. The sodden party shuffled through.
    They found themselves in a large, hexagonal room. The ceiling and floor were constructed from grey, stained concrete. At regular intervals around the edge were six separate rooms, each of them a good fifteen metres deep. The rooms all had a sturdy door and a toughened glass window, about three metres by two, so that it was possible to see inside. Each room had a couple of industrial-looking spotlights set about three metres from the front, pointing towards the back walls. Danny understood why. With the spotlights shining in the eyes of the room’s occupants, anyone standing behind them would be unidentifiable.
    One of the rooms contained what looked like a basic dentist’s chair. A rubber hose was coiled snake-like next to it. Danny instantly knew that it was a waterboarding facility. The room next to it was empty, except for a three-metre length of chain attached to the far concrete wall, with what looked like a leather dog collar at the other end. A third room contained a chair similar to the waterboarding room, but instead of the hose there was a trolley laden with surgical instruments in sterilised, sealed packages. The remaining three rooms appeared to be empty, but Danny instantly observed that they all had a drain grate in the centre, and a tap on the far wall. There were dark stains on the floor of each room, and the whole area had a faint smell of antiseptic. A further door led out of the hexagonal room, and in the middle of the room was a table with four