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SEVENTEEN
Saturday, June 13th. Afternoon.
The light hit Josh's face. He struggled to open his eyes, adjusting his vision to the sunshine streaming in through the open window. Blinking hard, he looked around. A white room. A white bed.With white sheets. And a white towelling bath robe wrapped around him.
Where the hell am I now? A hospital, maybe.
He sat bolt upright, feeling his body ache as he stretched himself forwards. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts. My name is Josh Harding, he told himself. I am a British soldier. And, right now, I'm in some serious shit.
His memories came flooding back, filling his mind with a hundred different bits of information at the same time. He had been captured by the bikers. He'd been rescued. But his rescuer was, he felt certain, an al-Qaeda agent.
I haven't been rescued at all. I've just swapped one prison for another.
Josh paused, taking a moment to asses the damage that had been inflicted upon him in the las� two days. There were plenty of cuts and bruises where he had been punched by Flatner, but probably no permanent damage there. It was the electricity that had taken the heaviest toll. Any damage that might have done would be internal. It might be days before his nervous system was working properly. Maybe never.
But it doesn't look like a prison, decided Josh, glancing round the room. It was clean. It was light. There was a glass
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of water by the bed. A television sat on a simple wooden stand in one corner. Nothing was holding him down. No chains. No handcuffs. No bars. But it still doesn't mean you're a free man. The worst jails don't look like jails.
'Are you feeling better this afternoon?'
Josh looked up. It was the man who had rescued him last night. He was dressed in cream chinos and a dark blue polo shirt. There were touches of grey in his hair. His face, without the bandanna to mask it, had a harder edge to it. It was tough and craggy, and the cheeks bore the marks of old wounds. It was the face of a man who had spent much of his life in combat.
I've seen you before, Josh realised. And not just in the picture that Madge showed me.
'I don't know,' said Josh. 'It'll take a few days to learn how badly I'm hurt.'
A woman stepped into the room. She was dressed all in white: white tunic, white tights, white gloves, white shoes. And she wore a white linen veil across her face. Her dark brown eyes and black hair were the only part of her body that Josh could see. In one hand, she was carrying a bowl of water, in the other some cotton wool and a bottle of
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' disinfectant.
'We need to dress those wounds,' said the man.
The woman remained silent. She leaned over the side of the belt, removing the sheet. Apart from a new pair of boxer shorts, Josh was naked. The woman dabbed the cotton wool into the water, then pressed the bottle of disinfectant to it. Starting with the neck, she started washing the wounds, bruises and scratches on Josh's body. His skin stung as she did so, but her touch was delicate and gentle.
'What am I doing here?' asked Josh.
The man raised a finger to his lips. 'Quiet,' he said. 'You need to recover your strength.'
'I need to know where I am.'
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'No, quiet,' said the man. He smiled, flicking on the television. 'Here, watch some television. Try to relax. Get your strength back.'
Josh lay back on the bed. There was nothing obvious to keep him in place. The man didn't appear to be armed. He couldn't hear any guards outside. Still, he knew that there was no way he could just get up and walk out of here. Sometimes you didn't need to see your jailers. The strongest chains were the invisible ones.
There was a weather forecast on the television. It was tuned to CNN. Another bright sunny day for Arizona, Josh noticed. At least they haven't taken me out of the country.
'Our top story this hour,' started the newsreader as soon as the weather forecast had finished. 'Another terrifying Cities Attack. We'll be back with all the details after this break.'
Josh stared at the television. His chest was stinging where the woman was dabbing disinfectant into the raw flesh of a wound. Maybe one of the places Flatner had kicked him.
A dog-food advert faded away, then the news started up again. Three o'clock, Josh noted. He'd been asleep for a long time. 'Our top story this hour: another terrifying series of blackouts, this time in the United Kingdom,' started the newsreader. 'At precisely nine this morning, local time, the power was switched off in four British cities. Liverpool, Harrogate, Peterborough and Exeter. In each city, the power went off at just after nine in the morning, and the blackout lasted for precisely one hour. In ^cenes that have become distressingly familiar across the world, there was widespread chaos in each city as the power shut down. Schools and hospitals were closed, traffic ground to a halt, and factories and offices emptied for the day. In Liverpool there was an outbreak of looting as a shopping mall came under attack from an angry mob. Now, almost ten hours later, police are still struggling to bring the city under control.'
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Luke, thought Josh instantly. He's still out there. He's still operating.
'There is now heightened speculation that the blackouts that started several months ago with the Three Cities Attack are the work of a terrorist network, suspected to be alQaeda,' continued the newsreader. 'Power industry experts are saying it is impossible that the simultaneous shutdowns of so many networks in so many different cities could be a coincidence. The fact that Britain, America's closest ally in the War on Terror, has been targeted has only fuelled speculation that the blackouts are part of the terrorist campaign waged against the West.'
'Prime Minister Tony Blair issued a statement this afternoon, saying that the nation would not flinch in the face of these attacks, and saying the outrage justified his decision to support the US in the invasion of Iraq. However, Liberal Democrat leader Charles Kennedy said he believed that Britain should now withdraw its troops from Iraq. We'll be back with more reactions to today's events right after this break.'
The television suddenly went dead. The man put down the remote at the foot of Josh's bed and turned to him, a half-smile playing on his lips. 'So you see, Josh Harding, there is much for us to speak of.'
The woman had finished with Josh for the time being, dressing the last of his wounds and applying a final plaster to a cut in his skin. She bowed, staying silent, then withdrew from the room. Josh shut his eyes. Something was happening. An image was sliding behind his closed eyelids, hazy at first, like an out-of-focus picture, but gradually sharpening. A memory.
Josh struggled to concentrate as the picture hovered in front of him. A concrete room. He was standing in front of someone. Josh was dressed in white robes, and was dirty and unshaven. The other man was older, dressed in a
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uniform. He was shouting at him. Josh was shouting back. Bugger it, thought Josh. I can't hear anything. What the hell were we arguing about?
He kept his eyes closed. He could see himself shouting at the man, then standing up. He was moving across to the wall. A picture was in his hands. He was tearing the picture, throwing the torn strips of paper onto the floor.
But even though the picture was shredded by his own hands, Josh could see the face clearly enough. The same face that was standing right next to him now. Khalid Azim. One of the most wanted al-Qaeda terrorists in the world.
'I know who you are,' said Josh, his stare meeting Azim's.
'I am your rescuer,' said Azim.
'Your name is Khalid Azim.'
Azim nodded. 'I'm glad to see that your memory is coming back to you,' he said. 'It should make the next few hours so much easier.' He paused. 'For both of us.'
'I've tried to kill you once,' snapped Josh. 'Next time, I will "Bloody succeed.'
Azim laughed. 'You don't have much in the way of small talk, do you?' he said. 'Still, never mind. For what we have to discuss, only a few words will be needed.'
He walked slowly the length of the small room to stand right next to Josh.'I have been tracking you for some weeks, following you from place to place. Even after you were shot, I stuck to you, watching you from afar. It was only after those idiots on bikes took you captive that I realised I had to intervene. They were going to kill you, either on purpose or just through sheer bloody carelessness. And that I couldn't allow. Why? Because I knew that if I followed you, you would eventually lead me to what you know I want.' Azim paused, rubbing his left hand reflectively over his jowls. 'Luke. I want to know where Luke is.'
Turning around, he gestured towards the television set. 'They are talking as if these attacks on power stations around
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the world were organised by al-Qaeda. If only they were, I keep saying to myself. If only they were.' He paused. 'Think of the power that would put into our hands, Josh. Anywhere in the world, at will, with the flick of a few switches, we could plunge whole nations into darkness. Chaos, confusions, riots and anarchy -- they would all be ours, at the mere touch of a few buttons. And so they will soon be, Josh. So they will soon be.'
Azim clapped his hands together. The woman walked back into the room. She was carrying a tray on which were a jug of orange juice, a bowl of mixed fruits and a plate of sandwiches. Carefully, she placed it down at the side of the bed. Josh eyed the food hungrily. It was two days since he had eaten anything, but he kept his hands still.
How the hell do I know they are not about to drug me?
'Luke has the software, doesn't he, Josh?' continued Azim. 'And we want it. As soon as we have it, these blackouts really will be the work of al-Qaeda, just as they are describing it on the news.'
'I don't know where he is,' snapped Josh. 'Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.'
Azim took an apple from the fruit bowl, rolling it between his hands like a cricket ball. 'I don't think you've been paying attention, Josh. Maybe you've taken too many blows to the head. It might have made it hard for you to concentrate. We saw the first attack. Jamestown, Orlando, Seattle, and Harrison. It spells Josh. Now we see there is another attack. What did they say on the news? Liverpool, Peterborough, Exeter, and Harrogate. But I bet when we get all the details tomorrow, we'll find that there was a delay in the sequence of the blackouts. I imagine it went Harrogate, Exeter, Liverpool and then Peterborough.'
Azim took a bite from the apple, a sly smile playing on his face. 'J-O-S-H H-E-L-P,' he said, spelling out each letter carefully. 'I think he's trying to tell you something. Don't you?'
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'I don't know what he's bloody trying to do,' said Josh, the anger rising within him. 'And anyway, it doesn't bloody matter. You can kill me if you want to. You'll get nothing from me.'
Azim laughed. 'That SAS bravado - I like it,' he said. 'The bulldog spirit. It is one of the things we can all admire about the British. But let me tell you this.You'll break. They all break. Within a day or two you'll be begging me to kill you. And at some stage I'll put you out of your misery. But only when you've told me where the boy is.'
'Then you might as well kill me now,' spat Josh. 'Get it over with, and save us all a lot of trouble.'
Azim passed across another apple. 'Eat something.'
'Fuck off.'
Azim placed the apple down on the white cotton sheet. 'Eat something,' he repeated. 'We need to build you up again, get your strength back. Why? Because a strong man will feel the pain more acutely than a weak one. And I want^you to feel the pain, Josh. I want you to feel every second of it.'
Before leaving, Azim put a gun to Josh's head, holding it tightly against his temple while the nurse snapped a handcuff onto the side of the bed, securing Josh's left hand. Another cuff chained his left foot to the bed's frame, and the bed itself was fixed to the floor. It didn't matter how violently Josh shook himself, he couldn't make it move an inch. Next the woman returned with a syringe, jabbing the needle hard into his thigh, injecting^he pale-coloured liquid straight into his bloodstream. Whether it was a truth serum, a poison, or just a tranquiliser Josh didn't know but within minutes he'd fallen into a deep sleep.
When Josh awoke he had no idea how long he had slept. A few hours or a whole day, it was impossible to tell. He was alone in the room, with just a single pale light shining
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down from the centre of the ceiling. The TV was switched off. The door was closed, and Josh couldn't hear a single sound from the corridor outside.
/ don't even know what kind of building I'm in.
He reached across to the side of the table, taking an apple with his right hand. His left was still chained to the bed. Azim was right, realised Josh as he took a big bite of the fruit. If my strength returns, I will feel the pain more acutely. But I'll also be able to withstand it for longer.
The food tasted good. It was two, maybe three days since he had eaten. His stomach was empty and, as with the water, he knew that he had to pace himself. Too much food, eaten too quickly, would only make him feel sick. His body wouldn't be able to take it.
Stomach ache, he thought with a rueful smile to himself. Somehow, I've got a feeling that's going to be the least of my worries.
The door opened. Azim walked slowly into the room, his gaze running over Josh. They must know I'm awake, he realised. He scanned the room, looking for cameras, but could see nothing.That doesn't mean anything. Azim knows I'm awake. He's watching me somehow.
'You slept well, I hope,' said Azim.
Josh remained silent. In the few minutes that he had been alone, the lessons on torture and how to survive it had been swirling through his mind. This was going to be different from the beatings he'd taken from Flatner and his thugs. Now he knew that he'd need to withstand the greatest subtleties of mental torture.
'We gave you an injection,' said Azim. 'It should have helped to clear your mind.'