Page 127 of Enemy Within

Cook nodded and stepped to the side. Madigan turned his attention back to Ethan.

Squatting, he reached for Ethan’s chin, gripping him hard as he twisted Ethan’s head from side to side. “There’s nothing that I want from you, Reichenbach. You’re a dog trailing after its owner, and you’re too stupid to realize it. No, I don’t want you. I want your owner.”

Swallowing, Ethan glared at Madigan, gritting his teeth. “You’ll never get Jack.”

“Do you remember the early days of the Iraq War? When the handcuffs were off, and we could pry information from those raghead terrorists by any means necessary?”

A cold chill that had nothing to do with the wind tap-danced down Ethan’s spine. He tried to drag in more air, more breath, but couldn’t. His heart hammered, pounding against his ribs.

“Do you know what I learned about torture, Reichenbach?” Madigan gripped his chin and pulled him forward until their faces were inches apart. “It’s completely ineffective against the subject,” he said as if whispering a secret. “But completely effective if thesubjectis witnessing their loved ones being tortured.” Slowly, he grinned. “There is not a single thing that I want from you. But I want Jack Spiers, andyou’regoing to help me get him.”

Ethan spat, blood-soaked spittle spattering Madigan’s face.

Madigan nodded to the Sudanese man holding the end of Ethan’s chain. The man yanked, and then kept pulling, hauling the chain until taut, choking Ethan. He kept going, yanking Ethan to his feet, and then off his feet, until Ethan dangled in the air, inches off the deck, twisting and thrashing wildly as the chain noose strangled him.

Somewhere, Adam shouted again, screaming his name and cursing at Madigan. Between Ethan’s blinks, he saw Adam try to break free. Saw the men guarding him grab him and pull him back, beat him down to the deck viciously. Nearby, Sasha shifted, putting his body in front of Sergey’s, as if he could shield him from Madigan and what was to come.

He gasped against the chain choking him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t drag in even the small wisps of air he’d managed before. His feet kicked, toes reaching for the deck, desperately trying to take the pressure off his straining throat. Stars burst in front of his eyes, colors exploding as the world darkened at the edges of his vision.Jack.He closed his eyes, drawing forth every memory of Jack he could: Jack smiling, laughing, gazing at him with love in his eyes. Sweaty and tousled after making love, and waking up in each other’s arms. Always, back to Jack’s smile.

“Drop him.”

He hit the deck hard, limp and boneless as the chain rattled. It loosened just enough for him to drag in a small breath, his lungs pushing painfully at his bruised and battered ribs. Ethan pressed his forehead against the deck, coughing and gagging as spit and blood dripped from his lips.Get out of here, Jack. Go. Take Scott and go. Get away from here, before it all goes up. Failure stung his soul, but all he could focus on was Jack. The world paled, always, beside Jack.

Two men came up behind him and hefted him to his knees, holding him up, restraining him.

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Cook, again, striding toward Madigan. Ethan watched as Cook passed Madigan a handheld radio.

His blood chilled when he saw what else Cook had with him: a stun baton, a thin pipe, a bucket of water, and a blood-and-oil-stained rag.

Cook tossed the pipe to the men restraining Adam. Blood dripped from Adam’s lip, and his eye was swollen shut again, but he was back on his knees, glaring at Madigan and Cook. His eyes followed the pipe, though, and he fought back as his captors grabbed him and pinned him down. One of the men forced Adam’s mouth open, and another slid the pipe between his lips and yanked it to the back of his jaw like a bit. Adam tried to shout around the pipe, but the men holding it jerked him hard against their bodies. One of them drew a knife and pressed it against Adam’s throat.

“No interruptions.” Madigan winked at Ethan. He held the radio up to his mouth and pressed the button. Overhead, loudspeakers on theVeduschiyclicked on, whining and crackling for a split second before settling into the open channel. “Jack Spiers,” Madigan said. His voice boomed out of the speakers, echoing across the ice cap. “I know you’re out there. I have something that you want.”

Madigan nodded to Cook. He held the radio out toward Ethan, still holding down the transmitter.

Cook smirked at Ethan and swung the stun baton, like a batter winding up for a swing. Electricity crackled off the twin prods at the end, snapping in the freezing air.

He clenched, trying to gird himself for the impact. Cook slammed the baton into his bruised and battered stomach. Electricity crackled through him, lightning bursting through his veins and his muscles. He went rigid, teeth gritted, and shrieked, jerking as Cook kept the prod buried in his belly.

“How does this sound, Jack? Do you like what you hear?” Madigan waved to Cook, and Cook pulled back. Ethan sagged in his captors’ arms, limp. “I’ve only just begun.”

54

USS Honolulu

“CAPTAIN, I’VE FOUND A LEAD. It doesn’t look natural, though…” Boomer’s voice trailed off. “Our sonar is still jacked, but this looks like the remains of an icebreaker chewing through the cap. Most of it’s frozen over again. I’d say… maybe a month ago.”

“What icebreakers would be chewing through the ice up here within the month?” Anderson shared a long look with Faisal, Coleman, and Wright. They’d been invited to the Conn after leaving the wardroom-turned-sickbay. Doc had chosen to stay behind for the moment, clutching a bucket as he heaved. “Bring it up on the main screen, Boomer. Nav, plot me a course to the lead.”

A chorus ofaye, Captains rang out as Anderson headed for the plotting table. His navigator hunched over his charts, checking the computer’s course and heading against his own calculations. He passed the final bearings to Anderson.

Faisal watched it all as if he were in a bubble, as if the world were happening around him, and he was stuck in slow-motion. Numbness seeped into his soul and circled his bones.

He had to be realistic. Adam was almost certainlygone.

He thought he’d prepared himself for the possibility of a life without Adam. Thought he’d guarded his heart, gave everything up to Allah and put his trust there. What would be was Allah’s will; he had no illusions otherwise. Adam and he… Only Allah knew the duration of their days. He was ready, he told himself, for what would come.