by T. H. Moore
“Five years ago, I authorized the formation of a specialized task force to apprehend this criminal, and I offered every resource at our disposal to aid this mission. We saw a dramatic decrease in child abductions as we worked with our friends and allies around the globe to capture and convict scores of this network’s participants and financial backers. In doing so, we drew ever closer to Charles Gravo.
“Earlier today, we received information that he was on Ethiopian soil. Following my orders, a team of Ethiopian and WICC militarized special operatives took Charles Gravo into custody after a fierce gun battle.” He paused dramatically, then added, “I regret to say that several members of our assault team gave the ultimate sacrifice in the process.”
A photo of Charles Gravo flashed onto the screen.
The oldest of the three military men in the basement turned from the television and looked back at the captive. With his head held high and sly smile, he pointed to the television screen. “Now the world knows you have a face,” he said. “The demonic legend exposed as nothing more than a sick, depraved man.”
Chained and motionless in the metal chair, Charles Gravo maintained an appearance of indifference.
His photograph vanished from the screen, and the live broadcast returned to the president sitting in his pristine office with tall, gold-colored drapes behind him. The gray-haired and regal leader took a deep breath before continuing his announcement.
“Today we have brought an end to yet another criminal enterprise that tried to compromise our humanity and brotherhood. We must not be naïve. Securing our country, its beliefs, and its morals is not complete. Despite our best efforts, some will always choose anarchy over justice and freedom. Let us hold firm in our right and our duty to ensure that those who violate our values meet the stern fist of the just. Let us remember that this right does not come from our wealth or power, but from who we are and our choice to coexist in peace. May Eloah bless you, the UTA, and may she bless our United Nations.”
The screen faded to the UTTV logo.
“With that news from the president,” the news anchor said, “families are rejoicing at the end of this horrible chapter in our history. As you can see from our affiliate news stations across the globe, people are taking to the streets to celebrate an expected life sentence for Charles Gravo and his exile to Katingal.”
“Turn that off,” came the quiet command from the man seated in the dark corner of the room. Cigar smoke wreathed his head. He was a civilian, and he spoke in a calm yet stern voice. He was also well out of range of any bodily fluids that might erupt from Charles Gravo as they moved to the next stage of interrogation. “We have work to do. No more water games. Get the machine.”
The commander nodded at one of the younger soldiers, who scurried away. He returned with a jumble of metal and jumper cables. Two of the soldiers grabbed Charles’s right arm, while another clamped the cables around his wrist.
The captive remained placid. But when the young soldier bent over, Charles head-butted him. The other soldier retaliated with a barrage of punches and elbow strikes.
The commanding officer’s face grew tight with disappointment. He glanced at the man in the corner before scolding his charge. “Protect your perimeter at all times, soldier.”
Charles smirked and spat blood onto the dirty floor.
“Light him up.”
The soldier flipped the switch. Ignited with pain, Charles shook and screamed.
“That’s enough,” the man in the corner said after a few seconds.
Charles slumped in the chair and groaned.
“Again!” the dark figure barked from the shadows.
Charles convulsed and heaved through the lingering pain.
“Aren’t we going to question him?” one of the soldiers asked his commanding officer.
“Your job is not to question, but to follow orders,” came the reply. “Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The prisoner will be questioned when it’s time for him to be questioned,” the man in the corner said. “Right now, he’s to suffer. “Now, that’s enough.”
Charles’s head hung. “What do you want? Money? I can make you all rich.”
“Don’t you dare speak!” the man in the corner bellowed. All calm had fled his voice.
“Turn up the dial and hit him again!” A heightened voltage of electricity contorted Charles’s body. He ground his teeth until a small chip broke off onto his tongue.
“You dare to offer money for what you’ve done? Stop the current!”
Charles shivered in pain. A trickle of blood dripped from his wrist to the top of his foot.
The older commanding officer glanced over at the dark corner where the cigar smoke was streaming into the air. “How much longer do you want us to keep at him, sir?”
The amber glow and the smoke continued, but the man didn’t respond.
The soldier Charles had head-butted walked over to a wooden table, where power tools and a coffeepot stood.
The room grew quiet in waiting. Still nothing from the man in the corner.
The elder officer nodded at the younger soldier standing beside Charles. He began punching Charles’s face and midsection. The soldier at the table picked up the coffeepot, shoved his fellow soldier out of the way, and threw the scalding liquid onto Charles’s naked torso. Charles screamed and writhed.
The man in the corner laughed. “Nice touch, soldier. Hit him again, Sergeant.”
The elder soldier flipped the switch, sending another surge of electricity to the clamp fastened to Charles’s wrist. The steady flow of electricity penetrated Charles’s every cell. His body arched and contorted until the switch was turned off and he fell limp. He fought to stop his jaw and body from trembling and used his last strength to lift his head to stare his torturers in the eyes.
“When this is over, I’m going to have each of you killed.” Blood and saliva streamed from his mouth.
The younger soldier thrust his boot heel into the captive’s face, knocking him and the chair against the concrete floor. Then he leaned over him, coming so close that their noses nearly touched. “Who says you’re ever getting out of here?” He went to the circuit board and made sure the dial was at its highest setting before flipping the switch.
Charles’s eyes rolled back. The surges continued until his bladder and bowels emptied urine and feces onto the floor.
“That’s enough,” the man in the corner ordered. He tossed his cigar to the floor and stamped it out with the heel of his polished leather shoe. He walked to Charles and stood just outside of the puddle of urine and excrement. “Come now, Gravo. Have a look, will you?”
Charles lifted his head to see a man with inky black skin and eyes shot through with blood. He wore a double-breasted suit, tailored and crisp. Behind him stood a large man with a briefcase.
“Pick him up,” ordered the man in the suit.
The two younger soldiers hoisted him upright.
Charles squinted. “Of course,” he said. “Governor Negesso. Who else but you would cower in dark corners while others do the heavy lifting?”
The governor nodded at his large companion, who then kicked Charles in the chest, toppling him over again. His head bounced against the concrete floor, and white stars danced before his eyes. He blinked rapidly, fighting against his body’s strong desire to escape into unconsciousness.
“Bring him back up.”
The soldiers complied.
The governor smacked Charles’s cheeks in a playful manner. “I don’t recall giving you permission to speak my name. Speak out of turn again, and my assistant Greer will pull your tongue from your head with pliers. Understood?”
The big man standing behind the governor grinned and made squeezing motions with his hand.
Charles gazed around the room as if he hadn’t heard and ha
dn’t a care in the world.
The governor smacked him across the face. “You’re too stupid to live. Nod your head if you understand.”
Charles looked the governor in the eye, but said nothing.
“Defiant until the end, Gravo? So be it. Either way, I win.”
“You sure about that?” Charles asked.
The governor lifted an eyebrow and glanced at his assistant, Greer, before turning his eyes back to Charles. “Oh yes, quite sure. I’m going to enjoy the anguish I’ll unleash upon you.”
Charles’s expression remained still.
The governor stepped aside and gestured for his assistant to take his place in front of Charles.
“Let’s see what this brave man is made of,” Greer said as he released the metal clamp from Charles’s wrist and dropped it onto the concrete floor. He reached into his pocket to retrieve a small bottle of clear liquid. Humming, he unscrewed the bottle top and dabbed a drop of the solution onto Charles’s wrist.
Charles’s body twitched and jumped, and his face contorted in failed defiance of the anguish. In his agony, he stole a glance at his wrist. The open wound was liquefying into a puddle of flesh and blood. His eyes poured tears, and blood ran from his lower lip from where his teeth had bit through.
When the putrid smell hit the torturers, the younger soldier dashed behind some stacked boxes and retched.
“W-Where’d you f-find that p-pussy?” Charles asked, mocking the ill soldier.
“You’re a brave soul,” Greer said as he screwed the top back onto the bottle. “But everyone’s brave in the beginning. And I’ve just begun.” He paused to make eye contact with Charles. “You see, my daughter was stolen from my wife and me many years ago. By you, as it turns out. I joined this task force to hurt you. I prayed to Eloah every day for this moment. You probably didn’t even know my daughter. For you, she was just another commodity to be bartered.”
“Enough talking, Greer,” the governor said, annoyed. “Get on with it.”
Greer pulled out an iron vice equipped with fingerholes. “Mr. Gravo, unclench your hands.”
Charles refused.
“You heard him,” the commander barked, jabbing his elbow into Charles’s face. “Open your hand!”
Greer shook his head. “Amateurs, the whole lot of you.” He removed a steel lighter from his pocket. “You see, by now, adrenaline has raced through his body, helping him cope with your juvenile beatings. But with the right catalyst, one can manipulate any situation.” He flipped open the lighter, and a thick blue flame turned orange and burned high and bright beneath Charles’s clenched fingers.
The captive resisted for a few seconds before screaming and opening his hands.
Greer forced Charles’s burned fingers into the precut holes, slipped a small, solid, metal bar into the top of the contraption, and gave it one full twist. Charles screamed.
“This is nothing compared to the suffering you’ve caused.” Greer gave his device another half-turn. Charles’s fingertips swelled as the pain engulfed his wrist and sent a lightning bolt up his arm and into his chest. He panted and gagged.
“That’s it, Greer!” the governor cried. “That’s what I want. Limitless pain! Gravo, you’ll be the first to be exiled without trial, and not a single person will object. The moment you chose to prey on the weakest and most innocent civilians, you chose your fate. Duenno ends tonight, and you don’t leave this basement until we know how it works and who’s involved.” The governor pointed to a collection of medical devices and machines in the corner. “Not even death can save you tonight.”
Charles tried to speak, but was incapable.
“Someone get him some water,” said the governor with a thin smile. “Let’s hear what this brave man has to say.”
Greer fetched a Styrofoam cup and filled it halfway. He held it to the captive’s lips, but Charles didn’t have the strength to drink, and the water ran down his front. He began to whisper names. The young soldier grabbed a notepad and prepared to write down whatever information Charles provided.
“Louder!” the governor commanded eagerly.
“Your pretty little wife, whew!” Charles exclaimed. “I bet she still has a soft, round ass, even after giving birth to that spoiled bastard of a son, huh?”
The governor’s eyes narrowed, but he revealed no other reaction to Charles’s taunt. He spoke quietly. “These men have my authority to torture you, Mr. Gravo. If you lose consciousness, they’ll revive you and start again. If you die, they’re going to revive you and start again. The moment we have what we need from you, you’ll be transported to the Ethiopian Territory prison in preparation for your exile to Katingal City.”
Charles wasn’t listening. He looked at Greer’s watch. “Is that a Patek Philippe? It’s nice. What’s the time on there?”
At this, the governor chuckled. “You have somewhere to be?”
His phone rang before the captive could answer. A blocked phone number appeared on the phone’s display.
“Go ahead and answer,” Charles said. “And make sure to find out what took them so fucking long.”
The governor hesitated before taking the call. His eyes remained fixed on Charles. As he listened, his entire body went rigid. The muffled sounds of a man’s voice on the other end of the phone changed to one much younger and softer.
“Yes,” the governor said. “Yes, I understand. All instructions will be followed.” He hung up.
“How’s your son, Governor?” Charles taunted before leaning back, a man again in his element. But before his back hit the chair, the governor lunged at him and grabbed his throat. Charles’s face turned red, but his defiance was resolute.
“Sir! Sir, please!” The older soldier ran to the governor. Greer tried to block the officer, but the officer grasped the governor, and Charles swung free.
Charles laughed. “It didn’t have to be this way, Governor. If I die, your son dies, and you’ll have yourself to blame.”
The governor made a visible effort to gather himself, then gestured to Greer, who handed him a phone. He punched in a number.
“Hello, sir, it’s Governor Negesso. Yes, we’re still in the process of extracting information from the suspect regarding Duenno, and we’re set to transport him to the territory prison.” The governor hesitated before clearing his throat. “But there is a problem, sir. The suspect’s accomplices have abducted my son, and they’re demanding the release of the prisoner.”
The governor listened while the other man spoke. Then he drew a deep breath and pressed the speaker button. The UTA president’s voice boomed through the phone.
“To all law enforcement agents and or military present,” he said. “This is President Manawi of the United Territories of Africa. You are ordered to cease all interrogations. Deliver the recovered intelligence and the prisoner to the Ethiopian Territory prison for processing and subsequent transport to Katingal. If anyone, including Governor Negesso, deviates from these orders, you are to arrest that individual or individuals so they can be punished to the fullest letter of the law. The UTA does not negotiate with terrorists. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir!” barked the three military men in unison.
“I didn’t hear your response, Governor,” the president said. “Have you heard and understood my orders?”
“Yes, sir,” the governor said.
The secretary of defense will be awaiting your arrival at the prison. Do your job, and we will get your son back. That will be all.”
The line went dead.
The governor threw the phone against the stone wall of the basement, shattering it. “Take this piece of shit to the car,” he said, his face still down, his voice barely perceptible. “He’s to go to the territory prison just as the president instructed.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldiers responded. One removed the medieval device from Ch
arles’s hand and handed it, dripping with fluids, back to Greer.
“You’ll transport the prisoner in your car,” the governor said. “My assistant and I will follow you.” He turned toward the exit, but halfway across the room, he paused. He turned around and looked Gravo in the eyes. “Charles Gravo, you hear me, and you hear me well. I don’t give a damn what the president says. Should anything happen to my son, I will personally ensure the time you spend in Katingal will pale in comparison to your short experience here, all the way up to the moment I decide to rip whatever life you have left from your body.”
Without another word, the governor turned his back to Charles and ascended the basement steps into the dark night.
Chapter 4
THE DEN OF TORTURE WAS an old stone cottage that stood between an open field and a dense forest. Three stretch town cars with tinted windows idled in front. Other than the car headlights of the prison caravan, the sole sources of light were the full moon and the stars above.
Two attack dogs snarled and scratched at the windows of the rear town car as the young soldier guided Charles past. The captive fell on the rocky ground and knocked his escort off balance. The young soldier reached to pull him up, but Charles pushed himself back onto his feet, pivoted to face the soldier, and latched both hands around the back of his neck. With a leap, he jammed his knee into the young soldier’s sternum.
The soldier crumbled to the gravel driveway. Stunned, he looked up just in time for Charles to rub his open wound into the young man’s eyes. The soldier screamed out and clutched his face, letting go of Charles.
Charles grabbed the soldier’s weapon and bolted into the forest. His feet pounded on the loose gravel beneath him and kicked up a trail of pebbles that fell behind him like rain. He glanced over his shoulder as Greer emerged from the second car and alerted the men to release the dogs.
