Alicia quickly looked down. “Viggie will be fine.”
He roared, “No she won’t be fine, Alicia. She’s going to be collateral damage too. She probably already is. You know that and I know that.”
Alicia turned to leave.
“What, you just came to see me before the hammer comes down? Is that it? Seeing another victim off to the great hereafter. I’m sure Len appreciated the gesture. Did he even know it was you? Did he think you came there to screw him? A little fun in the old tub?”
“Shut up!” she said sharply.
“No, I’m not shutting up. You’re going to hear me out, lady.”
As Alicia fled the cell, his screams of outrage followed her. “Are you gonna pull the trigger on Viggie? Are you?”
Alicia broke into a run, but she couldn’t outrun the screams. The stone floor was slick and she stumbled. As she fell, her prosthetic leg hit her good leg, cutting into her skin. She slumped to the floor sobbing quietly as Sean’s shouts thundered down the bleak hall.
“I’m so sorry, Viggie,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
CHAPTER
90
FOR THREE MORE DAYS Sean was forced to stand at attention or squat. He was barely fed and a cup of water a day was his sole allotment, enough only to keep him alive. He was returned to the coffin three times. He was poked or hit with a water jet whenever he tried to doze off. Deafening music was piped into his cell without warning and stayed on for hours. They had rigged his cell with electricity that would give him a mild shock when he touched his bed or the wall, or certain spots on the floor. It got so he simply huddled in one corner afraid to move. His belly was empty, his skin was raw; his spirit was cracking in half.
After his last trip to the coffin he awoke two hours later in his cell and looked around. He didn’t know how long he’d been in here. It could be days, weeks or years. His brain had simply shut down on him. As the cell door opened, he started sobbing, terrified of what they were going to do to him next.
“Hello, Sean, are we ready to be a good boy now?” Valerie asked.
He couldn’t even raise his head.
“Your friend’s made of tougher stuff. We never got her to cry.”
Now he looked up. “Where is Michelle?”
“That’s really none of your concern, now is it, little man?”
As Sean stared at Valerie Messaline, at the arrogant features of her face, at the confident tilt of her body, rage replaced his fear. He pushed his hand against the wall to steady himself. And then before anyone could react he pushed off the wall, lunged and was on top of her, his hands around her throat. He wanted to kill her, squeeze every molecule of arrogance, of superiority out of her ugly, filthy being.
Guards pulled him off and threw Sean back into a corner. When Sean sat up he looked at her. Valerie was standing against the far wall trying to appear composed yet he could see the fear in her eyes. And that small triumph was all he needed right now.
He stood on trembling legs, holding on to the wall for support, and said, “That’s a nasty bruise, Val. You might want to take a session in the coffin. They say oxygen deprivation is good for strangulation marks, if you don’t suffocate that is.”
“You think it’s been bad up till now,” she hissed. “Just wait.”
“Where’s Michelle?”
&n
bsp; “Like I said you should be concerned about yourself.”
“She’s my partner and my friend. But I guess you don’t understand those concepts.” He glanced at one of the guards, a young man with short blond hair and a muscular physique. “Hey, kid, you better hope to hell you don’t do anything to piss this lady off. She might just decide to label you a spy, torture your ass, and apparently there won’t be a damn thing you can do about it.”
The guard said nothing, but Sean could see just the tiniest bit of doubt creep into his eyes as he shot a sideways glance at his boss.
He turned back to Valerie. “Where is Michelle?” he screamed, finding lung power he didn’t know he had left.
“I can see we have some more work to do with you.”
“I have friends who work at the CIA. There’s no way in hell the Agency has authorized what you’re doing. You’ll rot in jail for this.”