Snippet #1860147

Forty Eight Forty Nine. Forty Eight Fifty… argh! I’ve had enough!

“Let me the hell out, NOW!” shouted Daavid. But no one responded. They had been driving for an hour. Actually he was stuck in bean bag in the back of the van. “Fucking let me out!” No reply.

He started kicking about. After a while the van stopped. The door to the van opened. The men dragged him outside and removed the knot of the bag. Daavid quickly squirmed out. He was covered in sweat and smelled very bad. He stood up and started shouting again at the two men who stood in front of him, “What the hell is going on?!” which quickly turned into apologies once they pulled out their guns. They waited for him to calm down, which he eventually did, quickly.

Daavid looked around. They were in front of an abandoned building, which could have been a mansion looking at its ruins. Behind them was a small road continuing on till the eye could see. Daavid could swear he heard waves crashing onto rocks. “Let’s go,” said the bigger of the two men after looking at his watch.

Daavid quietly followed. His head was hurting but he moved with them to show he wasn’t afraid. If this hadn’t happened to him before, he would have still been sitting near the car crying like a baby. One morning in January, 1998 he had been kidnapped by the Underworld of Mumbai. Luckily the police showed up for a drugs bust and he managed to get away. Looking at the building he had just entered, chances of the police arriving here were very slim.

It took them a few flights of stairs and some jumping over and moving around rubble to get to a room. There were two chairs, one of which was occupied by a tall thin man, and a small hanging light bulb between the chairs. “Please sit down mister…” he looked at Daavid.

“So you are the torturer? The name’s Daavid by the way,” said Daavid and sat on the chair. The man smiled and pointed towards the spot between them. Promptly that spot was occupied by a small table on which was a bottle of ice cold beer, judging from the water droplets, and two glasses, courtesy one of the guards. “Please, I’ve heard Germans like beer,” spoke the man while pouring beer for himself.

“Can you tell me your name?” asked Daavid smiling at the other man. The man smiled back, “No can do, mister.”

What the hell? Does everyone in Washington have secrets more important than their lives? Of course they did, he realized. This was where the biggest power players in the world called home. Everyone from the President to the neighbourhood whore had important secrets. What secret did this man have? He was a torturer so maybe he was hiding that fact… It was worth a shot…

The man looked at his watch and said, “I have two hours before you are scheduled to die. So, let’s get started…”

“How are your kids?” asked the smiling Daavid. The smile became wider when Daavid looked at the man’s startled and surprised face.

Jackpot…