Breaking Point free porn video

Breaking Point 1. Caught No battle plan survives contact with the enemy. Colin Powell ***** The sky was as black as the dead of night, instead of about 6 pm on a sub-equatorial mid-winter evening. The unseasonal El-Nino inspired storm had come inland at hurricane speed, thrusting the landscape into an eerie, sodden twilight. The worst of the storm had already passed, having drenched the area and sent tree branches and other forms of airborne debris across the site. As he tramped around the oil refinery's perimeter the Security Police Sergeant was cursing his Captain under his breath for ordering the patrol. Lightning flashed, and the disgruntled NCO muttered, "Madre de Dios, yo no sacar?a un perro." The shivering conscript beside him nodded, although he hadn't heard a word. They were now moving in towards the control blockhouse of the refinery, the noise of the wind, whistling through the pipework made a high-pitched screech over the thunder of the rain on the holding tanks. Their eyes stung from the sheeting droplets flung in the wind as they struggled to walk along the gratings that made the walkway. The Sergeant shouted to the private, "S?lo un ingl?s loco atacar?a en esta noche." "S? sargento" The comment carried on a sudden lull in the wind, reaching shadows behind the Sergeant. Almost invisible in the murk of the shadow, a set of pearl white teeth set into a grin. The two luckless security guards moved another twenty feet towards the blockhouse when two figures burst from the ground behind them. Two commandos snapped the necks of the two soldiers, their motion blurred in the rain. As the guards' corpses were dropped to the floor, the taller commando looked back towards the shadows hiding the grinning spectator and waved the waiting group on. "Move out," the grinning man said, in his crisp Oxbridge accent. Four other parka clad men rose around him and started towards the blockhouse. Two of the men carried automatic rifles at the ready; the other two had heavy Bergan rucksacks on their backs and carried another each, with rifles slung on their shoulders. The commandos waved the five men forward again. When he reached the commandos, the Englishman looked at his watch, smiled, then motioned the commandos away. The commandos nodded briefly and disappeared into the rain, fanning out on either side. The Englishman and his four companions continued to the blockhouse. The door was opened, and the two riflemen took guard post on the door. The others went into the reception area of the blockhouse. Shedding their Bergans' onto the floor, the inside team also shucked their parkas and the Englishman slid an Uzi from a special pocket in the coat while his companions checked their rifles and re-slung them to their shoulders. "Se?or Barker? What do we do now?" the taller of the other two men asked. Raymond Peter Seymour Barker looked at the man rather like a quizzical dog at its owner. "Check that the place is empty and then come back to help me move the device." "Si" The two local saboteurs left to look around the connecting rooms next to the reception area. While they searched, Ray opened the rucksacks and started to take out the equipment and what appeared to be marked explosives from within. As he worked to assemble the device he had designed he muttered to himself: "I don't believe this plan is going to work..." He trimmed two thin wires with his teeth, "Playing with bloody fire this is. God help me if they really go to town." He cut two lengths of primer-cord and wrapped the wires around the ends. Moving slowly, he built up what looked, to an uneducated eye, like a massive bomb. "I'm getting too damned old for this operational shit! Someone give me a nice desk job at Langley or London." Truth to tell, Ray didn't look his age, despite numbering some thirty- seven years and having been involved in all manner of warfare, he still looked in his mid-twenties. Recent activities had left him with hair much longer than normal for him; indeed, he was looking forward to a proper haircut when this was over. An unruly comma of hair fell across his right eye. 'If not sooner.' He thought. "Se?or Barker! This way." The call came from the doorway. He stepped up to the door where one of his rifleman guards had entered. "Lights along the high road Se?or." "They're early! Oh well, 'Luke, we're gonna have company.'" thought Ray, mentally quoting Han Solo. He ordered the guard, "Get outside. No heroics. You have to hold them for a few minutes, don't let them take you." "Si se?or." The rifleman went back out into the wind and rain. Ray went back to his construct, adding a small timer to the head of the device. "What's keeping those two...?" Ray commented under his breath, looking at the door that the two rucksack carriers had gone through and then at his watch. "... I have a bad feeling about this." He checked the other inside pocket of his parka and slid the revolver out of the pocket and tucked it into the back of his trouser waistband, the barrel against his spine. He then picked up the Uzi, cocked the mechanism and opened the door slowly with his left hand. The corridor was empty, at the far end was a glass fronted door leading to the control room, three side doors, two on the left, one on the right broke up the walls of the corridor. There was no sign of the two locals. Cautiously, Ray made his way along to the first door, on the left. A quick test proved it to be locked. The sign on the door said. 'Sala de Petr?leo' some wag had scrawled underneath "Sump room" in black crayon. Shuffling along, back to the left-hand wall, Ray made his way along to the right-hand door. "comedor" announced the sign. Ray took a deep breath and then swiftly kicked the door and checked the room left to right. His examination revealed two things, one, where his companions were, kneeling on the floor, arms tied behind them, rifles at their heads, and two, he was screwed, monumentally screwed. The door bounced into a catch, leaving him in the doorway, exposed. "Be sensible Se?or Barker, drop the Uzi." Ray looked at the speaker. A full Colonel standing in the middle of over twenty security police, all pointing AK47s at him. Smiling, he reset the safety slowly and lowered the gun to the floor. "The Python also Se?or. Kick them away." Without rising, Ray pulled the revolver from behind him with his left and put that down next to the Uzi. He then stood up and raised his hands. As he used his right foot to flick the weapons away from himself he commented, "Colonel Alvarez. Nice to meet you." "You know who I am?" Alvarez seemed surprised. "Of course, how is General Cortez? Still living up to the stereotype with his Havana's?" "We will hold our discussion at headquarters." "Of course, Old Chap," Ray said smiling, but thinking. 'So far so good.' Behind him the voice of the guard from earlier echoed down the corridor, "Senor Barker, there are police outside." Before anyone inside could make a comment, Ray yelled out, "Run for it! Carrera!" The sound of boots scrabbling came from in front of him and from the corridor. He used his position in the doorway to block the soldiers who tried to chase after the escaping saboteur and received several rifle butts in the chest, face and stomach for his efforts. "Alive! I want them all alive!" Alvarez snapped, he then pointed at Ray. "Secure him." Ray's arms were pulled roughly behind him and he tensed his wrists and clenched his fists as they handcuffed him. They then hustled the three captives out, along the corridor. As they entered the reception area Alvarez noticed the construct. A couple of the soldiers moved towards it "Leave it alone." They stopped and backed away. Alvarez nodded the group forward and indicated that four men should stay with the device. Outside it was plain the storm was coming to an end, the wind was now down to a strong breeze and the rain had, mercifully, stopped. Ray looked around, no other captives outside, then he saw the body of the guard who had warned him sprawled in the mud and puddles, the water tainted by the blood from the tight group of bullet holes in his body. Ray winced as he looked at the body, he had taken the execution of the guards as a necessary step but losing one of his team upset him. He hoped the other outside man had escaped, along with the commandos. As they walked to the waiting truck and staff car Ray assessed the Colonel. He knew he was fifty-two, although he was looking older. His hair was greying, and he was beginning to lose the hairline at the temples. He was thin, almost too thin, and had a somewhat whitewashed Latin tone to his skin. It took Ray a couple of seconds to realise that Alvarez was taller than himself, aided even more by the heavy heel on his boots. The three captives were loaded onto the truck while the Colonel climbed into his car. Soldiers surrounded them as they bumped and slid their way back to the Capital. During the journey, Ray flexed and relaxed his wrists and unclenched his fists. He could feel the slack in the handcuffs, perhaps he could release his colleagues so that they could escape. However, one of the soldiers, a lance corporal, had noticed Ray's movements. He brought up his rifle. "Ingl?s. No" Ray relaxed against the side of the truck and gave the soldier an ironic grin. "They should give you an extra stripe corporal," he called across. The soldier grinned back, but the rifle didn't move. "Si." So nothing happened on the rest of the journey. For almost an hour they were bumped and jostled on the roads. Eventually the truck came to a full stop and the back flap opened up. "Out!" The three captives were marched into the jail, stripped and thrown into separate cells, with a dirty grey coverall as protection. Ray dressed himself in his coverall and looked around the cell. He'd seen worse, he thought, but he wasn't expecting to be there long. He expected to be first up in the interrogation room. He heard Alvarez's voice calling for his servant to remove his boots. He sat himself down on the bunk and waited, anticipating the promised conversation. But ten minutes passed without any activity, then he heard someone else being dragged from the cells. Along the corridor, in the interrogation room, Alvarez had summoned the shorter of the locals he had captured. He stood over the man, who had been tied to a chair, letting the man take in the neat creases of his fresh uniform trousers and the deep shine of his expensive shoes. He used his right hand to make the man look at him. "You have one chance of survival," he said, "tell me exactly what you were doing!" "I do not understand; we were look..." the man tried to say more but Alvarez struck the man forcefully across the mouth. The man's lip split open where Alvarez' ring caught him. "Don't take me for a fool!" he snapped. "Visitors to the refinery do not wear combat clothes!" He gestured towards the prisoners' clothes bundled in the corner of the room. "What were you doing with the Englishman?" "Nothing Colonel." Again Alvarez struck the man. "I am losing patience with you," he nodded to the soldiers, who immediately grabbed the man's right arm and laid his hand on the table, another smashed his rifle butt down on the man's hand. The rebel nearly collapsed with the sudden agony. "What were your orders? Why was the Englishman with you? What did you hope to achieve?" The man stared, mutely, at his bloodied and fractured hand. "Answer me pig," Alvarez's face was inches away from the man's face and the spittle from his mouth flew everywhere. "Unless you cooperate, you will be shot tomorrow." The fear was obvious in the prisoners' face, but he continued to resist the questioning. "What was that device? A bomb?" "I just carried bags for him". "Just a trip to the market? In combat fatigues? You need to think about your position, and that of your family. Take him back to his cell." The agonised saboteur was escorted back to his cell. Ray heard the movement and went to the cell door. He could hear the next captive being taken away, to return about fifteen minutes later, also moaning in pain and being dragged along the floor. He returned to the bed, anticipating his own interrogation, but was to be disappointed again. Instead of coming to his door and dragging him out, he saw the shadows of the guards and, he presumed, Alvarez, walking past his door. He frowned; why were they ignoring him? Alvarez led the guards out to the reception area. Once they gathered around he gave them his orders. "Keep checking on them all, no sleep. If they fall asleep, wake them, roughly". He looked towards Barker's cell. "Keep the Englishman cold as well, any way you can." The leader of the guards, a Lieutenant, saluted and nodded. Alvarez returned the salute crisply, then grinned as his glance moved to the cells. "Buenos Notches" Alvarez left the jail and was driven to Police headquarters in his staff car. He was feeling pretty pleased with himself and his success of the evening. He checked his watch. Time for a good meal and a couple of hours sleep before he needed to resume his interrogations. On entering his office and hanging up his wet coat, he wasn't surprised to find his commander, General Cortez, sitting calmly one of two large comfortable armchairs that occupied a corner of the office. He was, however, surprised to see an older, mid-European, man wearing wire framed glasses sitting in 'his' chair. As he walked toward them the man rose, straightened his jacket, repositioned his watch and signet-ring with precise movements, then shook the Generals' hand. "Bis morgen General" The man appraised Alvarez in a single glance as he turned to leave; the eyes flickered with clinical detachment, assessing Alvarez, then reserving judgement. He then left the room. Alvarez watched the door close and gave a sudden, involuntary shudder, then he faced his superior and saluted. "General this is a welcome surprise," smiled Alvarez, "how are you Sir?" "I'm well Alvarez, I understand you've captured some saboteurs red- handed at the refinery tonight," the General said, looking pleased. "Yes General, although one died, we captured three others before they could cause any damage," replied Alvarez placing his Colt on his desk. "I'm glad to report that all were captured without any of my men being hurt but I think there may have been others as the two patrols of refinery security did not return. I have men searching the grounds again." Alvarez looked towards the door, about to ask about the visitor, but he didn't get the chance. "I understand from your sergeant that one of the men you captured was an Englishman. Was the man Barker? Was he their leader?" quizzed the General. Alvarez confirmed the details "Yes, Barker was captured but he was quickly surrounded and didn't give us any trouble, I intend to interrogate him later. We also captured two locals, they may provide some small information." "Bueno." The telephone on Alvarez' desk rang. "Yes, Yes Colonel ?lvarez. ?No, No. Are you sure? All dead? Yes. Thank you." He turned to the General. "All four of the outside guards are dead!" Alvarez could see that his superior was not pleased. Before he could speak however a dull rumbling, deeper even than the thunder earlier bounced around the room. "What is that?" The General asked. The insistent ring of the telephone cut off Alvarez' reply as he answered, "Yes, this is Colonel Alvarez. It can't be... You are sure? How?" "What is happening Alvarez?" Alvarez covered the mouthpiece. "An explosion Sir. Someone, I presume Barker, has blown up the electrical sub-station that supplies the refinery. Fires have sprouted in several places and they are trying to prevent them from reaching the pipeline." He cocked his head to listen to the next report over the phone. "There is no power in the area at all, we are going to have to get some generators there to enable the safety equipment to work." Cortez stood up, crushed his cigar into the ashtray and picked up his coat. "So, Barker and the revolutionaries have succeeded in shutting down the refinery. I am afraid that this failure will not go unpunished by our political masters. Break Barker, get anything you can out of him, it may be the only thing that saves us both!" He went to the door. "Be quick Colonel, others have an interest in this Englishman who blows up things. We need his information first!" "Yes General. I will start tomorrow." Cortez left and Alvarez went into a little sub-office to get some sleep. ***** The rumble from the explosion also reached the jail, where Ray sat, cross-legged, on the bunk. He smiled with satisfaction. One diversion had worked perfectly. Now he just had to brace himself for the retaliation. ***** Arriving at the outskirts of San Carlos City as the sounds died away, two American tourists paid their taxi off and made their way to their hotel, carrying their suitcases into the lobby. Both men had cropped haircuts and had the hard profile of military men. They registered. picked up their room keys and took themselves up to their rooms. One of them could have passed for a local, except for his almost bald head, the other had the bronzed look of someone from the Sunshine State, the Hispanic man spoke with a mid-west accent, the other a California drawl. They went to their adjoining rooms. ***** Sitting in an official car, the Generals visitor also heard the explosion, he too smiled, a mirthless, bitter smile that didn't touch his eyes. "Bald, Herr Barker, sehr bald." The car pulled up outside a splendid looking government building and the man entered. The guards merely glanced at the man, allowing him entry without challenge. The plaque on the door announced: "Rep?blica de San Carlos - Ministerio del Interior" ***** 2. A Quiet Chat "Plans are of little importance, but planning is essential." -- Winston Churchill ***** Alvarez returned to the prison at six am, having had his sleep, freshened up and had a meal. The Lieutenant from the night before snapped to attention when his superior entered. "Barker?" Alvarez asked. "He was sitting on his bunk, cross-legged. We removed the bunk. The floor is cold, so he is forced to stand." "Good. The others?" "I had the medic look at the broken hand, he stopped the bleeding." "He didn't bandage the hand?" "No sir, you didn't ask for it, although the medic objected." He looked down as he added, "I did allow a clean towel" An uncharacteristic smile briefly touched Alvarez lips before he passed his orders, "Move Barker to the cell alongside the interrogation room, then bring that one to interrogation, he can keep his towel." The Lieutenant saluted and set about the orders, while Alvarez walked out to the garage for the police vehicles. Looking around, he finally focused on an oily tool wrap left casually on the top of a large workbench. He took a pair of leather gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. Then he rolled up the wrap, with the tools, and returned to the reception area. "Get me some coffee," he told one of the soldiers. "Si Colonel" Leisurely Alvarez made his way to the barrack room. There he picked up a clean towel, before finishing his walk to the interrogation room. Inside two guards and the Lieutenant were waiting with the first of the captives. He was cradling his mashed hand in the hook of the other arm. His face blanched as Alvarez walked in. "Sit," Alvarez ordered, pointing to the chair on the left-hand side of the table. The two guards manhandled the prisoner into the required chair while the Colonel placed his two acquisitions on the right-hand side, slowly unrolling the tool-wrap and folding the towel into a long strip. After a moment, he picked the towel back up and laid it down on a corner table, under a table lamp. He glanced back at the prisoner. "A last resort," he said, looking pointedly at the rifles of the guards and flexing his left hand. He walked slowly back to the main table. "Now, you were going to tell me why you have been destroying the property of the people?" "I did nothing Colonel, I swear, I was just carrying a bag for the foreigner." Alvarez noticed something in the light as the man flinched, expecting to be struck. He peered closer at the man and a look of recognition crossed his face. "Corporal Diaz? "Colonel." Alvarez sat down heavily. "What has happened to you? Why are you working with dissidents and malcontents?" "I am a patriot Colonel; you are working for a corrupt regime," the former corporal replied. "Oh, Miguel, my foolish friend. What has changed you so much since the army?" Emboldened, Miguel Diaz replied, "Me, I have not changed, but you are no longer the Lieutenant that led my platoon. He would never have smashed a man's hand." "You are wrong Miguel, on so many counts. So, for old times' sake, tell me what I want to know." "I can tell you nothing Colonel, I know nothing. I was assigned to carry the bag and do what Senor Barker told me, nothing more." "Who assigned you?" "I don't remember." "Miguel. Don't be pig-headed. You will tell me what I want to know, but it can be easy or hard." "No." Alvarez put out his hand over the wrap, while still watching Miguel's eyes, and slid out a long-handled screwdriver. Miguel wanted to look at whatever had been selected, but he also didn't want to look away, responding to the challenge in the Colonel's eyes. Suddenly Alvarez stood up, the handle of the screwdriver swung across the table and struck the tips of Miguel's broken hand. The cry of pain reverberated around the room. In the cell next door Ray could hear clearly whenever the Colonel inflicted pain on his victim. Ray had always had a good sense of time, although he was not feeling too good at that moment, sitting on his heels to try and relax, and he calculated that Alvarez toyed with his subject for about twenty minutes before there was a break. He heard shuffling and the rattle of keys outside his cell, so he slowly stood up. "I hope you like the surroundings," Alvarez asked as he entered, two coffee cups in his hands. "Been in worse places," Ray replied urbanely. "I trust we are not disturbing you next door?" "Not at all." "One of your colleagues is most, forthcoming, I may not need to talk to you at all, except, how did you manage that explosion?" "What explosion?" Ray replied with a friendly, concerned smile. "Has something blown up?" "We will obviously have to talk, later." Alvarez took the cup back and turned to go. "Anything I can get you?" "A small reed mat? The floor is cold and I want to sit for a while." "Perhaps, I think about it." The cell door closed behind him and Ray heard the keys. A minute later the voices began again, shortly followed by the screams of pain. Five minutes later the door opened again, and the Lieutenant stood in the doorway. He had a rolled-up bamboo mat in his hand. He spoke English haltingly. "The Colonel says, Mat or Shoes for infor-mation." "I think you may have the message wrong. Mat for shoes or information." "No. You give me shoes or information. Colonel insist." "Bastard!" Ray muttered under his breath. He sat on the ground and pulled off his shoes. "Socks also." Ray complied. "Bloody bastard!" He handed them over to the soldier who stood guard and looked at the Lieutenant. "Turning you into a right sadist, isn't he?" "Si Senor." The Lieutenant dropped the mat on the floor and walked out, it was then that Ray realised it was a plate coaster, about big enough to stand on, with either his heels or his toes over the edge. "Bloody Sodding Bastard!" Ray yelled out after the Lieutenant. When nothing happened after a minute, Ray picked up the bamboo place- mat and put it carefully into the middle of the room. "Ah well." He sat on the mat, composed himself, then slowly eased himself into a half- lotus position. "I obviously have time..." The screams from next door started again. Ray rested his hands on his knees and took a slow, deep breath. Five minutes later the Lieutenant entered the cell. "Senor Barker, you must stand, or mat go," the Lieutenant explained. "Of course," Ray agreed, resignation in his voice. He stood on the mat, his toes hanging over the edge. He tried the techniques he had learnt for relaxing at attention from his army days and tried not to think of the cold on his toes. So far, so very predictable. The work 'next door' continued, on and off, for a couple of hours before Ray heard any movement outside. It was soon obvious that they had switched victims and that his second helper was now being interrogated. The bamboo mat was now sticking into the balls of his feet and the fatigue of constantly standing was beginning to tell. The cell was ventilated by two vents, one hundred and fifty millimetres' square in the ceiling, so there was no external indication of how close it was to dawn, but Ray considered it was nearing mid-afternoon when the guards arrived and frogmarched him, his numbed legs and frozen feet stumbling as he went, into the interrogation room. The guards, obviously under instruction, took Ray over to a coat rack and tied him to it, keeping him on his feet. "Mr Barker. I need some questions answered." "Sure you do." Ray knew he was tired, but he also knew that this was when he needed to be at his sharpest. "You will answer my questions." It was a statement. "Absolutely not old chap," Ray said in his best Oxbridge accent. He winced as his voice faltered, revealed the strain he was feeling. "Your friends have told me much, just confirm for me." Ray's voice was stronger as he replied, "You are wasting my time; I'm not going to tell you anything." "Wasting your time?" Alvarez had noticed Ray's wording. "Of course, you'll have to let me go sooner or later, after all, I am a member of my embassy. You wouldn't want to cause an incident by detaining an accredited diplomat." "Did they know you were committing sabotage?" "No comment." Barker looked past Alvarez at the table, where the tool wrap sat; several of the tools now shiny with fresh blood. Alvarez noticed the glance and pointedly looked back at the wrap. "You like my toys?" he asked looking back at Ray with an expectant grin. "Toys? Relics." "Fetch Diaz," Alvarez snapped. Turning back to Ray, he said: "You do not seem to be worried about yourself, perhaps seeing others suffer will make you more, amenable?" Two of the guards left, returning with the broken and barely breathing former conscript corporal. Alvarez nodded curtly and the guards let Diaz fall to the floor. Ray stiffened as he felt a momentary emotional link with the battered man. He looked calmly into Alvarez' eyes however. "Corporal, tell the Englishman what you told me." Diaz groaned, then gave a strangled yelp as Alvarez kicked him. "Se?or, por favor, I sorry," he screamed as Alvarez struck his broken hand with the head of the screwdriver. "I follow your orders to bomb the refinery," Diaz gasped out. Behind his mask of unconcern, Ray was astonished to feel real regret at the treatment of his helper. "Now what you say?" Alvarez asked, somewhat triumphantly. He looked at Ray his eyes shining in a perceived victory. "Archaic torture will make anyone confess to anything. That's how the Conquistadors pacified the natives three hundred years ago." "Do not tell me our history!" Alvarez snapped, his pre-perceived victory turning to ashes in front of him. "Put him down the Hole." The guards untied Ray and took him along the corridor to a new cell, this proved to be a former well, just outside the main cell block, on the edge of the exercise courtyard. The grill was lifted back against a heavy steel cover and Ray was pushed in. He glanced up at the top, about six to eight feet above his head, noticing that the stars were starting to shine in the sky above. He found the floor to be covered in about two inches of lukewarm water, now muddied by the disturbance his falling into the pit created. Obviously, he wasn't going to get much rest here either. But if he ignored the water, he could at least get some meditation. The water would seep up his coverall anyway, so he squatted down in the water and slowly relaxed every muscle. He wondered what Cortez would say to Alvarez when the latter reported that day's work, if indeed it had been a day as his instincts said had passed. A metallic groan and clang reverberated in the confined space as all light was extinguished by the closing of the steel cover over 'The Hole'. ***** The group of six men looked at the collection of electrical components in front of them, resistors, capacitors and an assortment of other small components, including integrated circuits and circuit boards. The instructor was explaining which component went where and demonstrating with larger copies of the components how to assemble the board. Once they had completed three copies of the circuit successfully, the tutor smiled and then demonstrated how to fit the electrical circuit into the metal frame of the devices they were building. Two of the trailing wires, connected to a percussion cap detonator, were left dangling ready for the plastic explosive. The other two wires were set so that capping the device completed the circuit. All of these units were built into what looked like covers for inspection hatches. Other devices, already completed, looked like assorted mundane pieces of equipment that you might find in any work environment, be it factory, power station or private workshop. They were collected at the front of the workshop. Once the current set of devices was completed the students began on a new set of three each. The instructor moved around the group, checking the work and nodding in approval where appropriate. None of the devices were loaded with the explosives, they were all collected together by the instructor and the two military men with him. ***** Alvarez sat in the interrogation room after Barker had been removed. He turned to Diaz. "You see my friend Miguel. This Englishman is not interested in you or your pain," He picked up the long screwdriver again as if to emphasise his point. "You know all I know Colonel; I can tell you no more." Alvarez looked at the former corporal and put the screwdriver back in his wrap. He glanced at the guards and jerked his head. They removed Diaz leaving him alone in the room. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his head as if to ease a pain. This was not going right. The intelligence he had received had been excellent, but the captives were not giving him what he wanted. What he needed was to ease the pressure from General Cortez. His relationship with his superior had been under strain for some time. But in the last month there had been a rapid deterioration. Secret meetings when he was away from Headquarters, promotions of people that he hadn't recommended. He was finding the workload was increasing faster than he could generate solutions and although he couldn't see it yet, he was drowning in protocol as his direct access was being removed, even his torture techniques were being questioned. Let Barker cool off in The Hole and Miguel Diaz contemplate his broken hand. The other prisoner was even more worthless, so he could stew for the longest period. He wondered what else would be changing at Headquarters. That thought made him walk faster, ignoring the salutes of the surprised soldiers as he made his way out of the prison block towards the courtyard and his staff car. ***** The room was barren but for a large metal tank, which stood on six legs in the centre of the room with four high density spotlights at the foot and sides. Three men in all-in-one boiler-suits were manhandling several barrels into the room. The two side spots were on, but facing the roof, to bounce their light across the working area. In the corner, the light flashed off of the glasses being worn by a hawk-eyed observer, worn as if to cover his steely gaze, watching operations, the General's visitor from the night before. A pump and some hose came in next and the man nodded when one of the workmen looked towards him. The input hose from the pump was inserted into the first barrel. Two of the workmen opened the heavy steel hatch that ran the length of the tank, revealing a cushioned headrest inside the deep tank. The end of the output pipe was placed inside the opening ready for the contents of the barrel to be pumped into the tank. Satisfied thus far, the man nodded approvingly. They all left the room and the lights were turned off. The room was at the end of a pristine white walled corridor about a hundred yards in length There were side doors at intervals along the way. The man stopped at the third door on the left and entered. The lights came on, revealing a lady's outer-boudoir with 2 adjacent rooms, one a walk-in wardrobe filled with clothes to delight most women, the other a very spacious bedroom, including a luxurious bathroom. There was also a small intimate dining table in the main room. He walked through each room, tweaking a brush here, straightening a towel there. Making sure he was satisfied with the appearance of the whole scene, like a fastidious continuity controller. In the bedroom, he checked the bed, squaring up the bedclothes. In the boudoir, he checked the obvious camera, then looked at the hidden cameras, one focused on the table, another in the top of the dressing table mirror. Satisfied with what he found, the man left, making sure the lights went out, and moved down the corridor again. The next door was on the right, he strode purposely past it, and the two alternating doors until he reached the corridor end, a lockable door which led into another corridor. In each direction there were more doors including three double-door sets which opened onto the corridor. He walked to the middle doors of the right-hand branch. The doorway proved to lead into a clinical room with cubicles, an X-ray cabin on the far wall and an anaesthesia room leading to double doors isolating an obvious operating theatre. The man removed his glasses and tapped his chin with the ear- wire as he looked through into the theatre's operating table. He seemed to take a deeper breath, as if savouring the antiseptic smells in the room. He then replaced the glasses and turned crisply, exiting the infirmary area. His left turn took him back up the corridor, past the double doors from the recovery room and on to the end doors which led to a large reception area, with two lifts and a staircase the other side of a guarded screened area. He grimaced at the smells of gun-oil and stale sweat in the screened area. The guards opened the gates for him and he entered the lift and pressed 'G'. The lift ascended quite quickly and deposited him in the ornate entranceway of a familiar government building. The Police guards ignored him as he walked out of the entrance and climbed into the waiting car. "In der Tat, sehr bald," he commented to himself as the driver started the car. They left the Interior Ministry behind them. ***** A smart jeep pulled up at the headquarters of the American sector of Berlin and discharged an officer, who entered the building and made his way to a small office. The aide outside the office gestured for him to enter. The Captain stood to attention while his superior read the report that he had delivered. Knowing the contents of the crisp, dry pages, the Captain was not looking forward to his next few minutes in the office. The Colonel had been expecting a victory, another stepping stone in his meteoric rise to the stars of General-hood. "What went wrong Richard?" "We underestimated him Sir. Didn't take into account his links within the East German security forces and the possibility that he has possession of at least some of his father's research." The voice was pure Brooklyn Irish, the tone, however, was conciliatory. "If they hadn't built that damned wall it wouldn't have been a problem at all." "That's as maybe, it doesn't explain three dead operatives and several compromised operations in Czechoslovakia and Romania." "Sir, he is very good at interrogation, especially using psychological torture. I am afraid that the Limeys were right." "Don't ever tell them that!" "No Sir!" "The Brits provided most of the intel for this shindig." The Colonel looked at his subordinate and then out at the view of the newly built wall that separated Berlin. With a sigh of resignation, he opened his desk draw, drew out a bottle of Jim Beam and two glasses. "At ease Captain, have a drop. We may as well give our sorrows a paddle while we contemplate our oblivion within Army Intelligence." "Perhaps we would fare better as civilians Sir?" "I'm not grovelling to Hoover." "Prefer working abroad myself Sir..." The Captain sat down as he shared another snifter with his superior before they discussed their impending demob and their hopes for the future. ***** 3. Rivalries People suffer because they are caught in their views. As soon as we release those views, we are free and we don't suffer anymore. Thich Nhat Hanh ***** Alvarez was not looking forward to his interview with General Cortez as he made his way to Police HQ. He had scant information from the two locals and nothing from Barker save the threat of his diplomatic status. As his staff car drew up outside, he noticed another official car parked in the private area, the driver happily lighting a cigarette. He entered the building and made his way quickly to the office he occasionally shared with the General. He entered the office and had saluted before he realised that Cortez wasn't there, however the visitor from the night before was, helping himself to Alvarez' coffee. He sat back down with his drink, ignoring the venomous look from the frustrated Colonel. Alvarez dumped his hat and coat on the coat rack and sat at his desk, pointedly ignoring the unwelcome guest. He started to go through the papers, mostly reports on the operations of the previous night, a report on the damage to the electrical supply line and the device left behind in the refinery control room. Alvarez' temper didn't improve when he read the report from the refinery. One dead saboteur, four dead guards and two booby-trapped explosive devices on the oil input and output systems. His bomb disposal people were not too happy about dismantling them as they appeared to be part of the equipment. "Damned incompetents!" "Problems Alvarez?" General Cortez asked as he entered, on noticing the visitor he added, "Guten Morgen Herr Doktor." "Guten Morgen General." "Why is this foreigner here General?" Alvarez asked, after jumping to attention. "That is my business," the 'Doctor' replied in good Spanish, his expressionless face still turned away from the shocked look on Alvarez' face. "Who is incompetent Alvarez?" Cortez asked again, mildly, although his face dictated an answer was required. "And what of the questioning of Barker?" "The guards at the refinery General, they permitted Barker and his cohorts to booby trap the equipment." "And Barker?" The General pressed. "General, in front of the... Doctor?" "Yes. No secrets." Alvarez swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat. Why was this European involved in an internal security problem? "He claims diplomatic immunity, General, however he is not listed on the roster of the Embassy that we received yesterday. I have thrown him in 'the hole'. With your permission I would like to leave him there for a few days. According to the files we have on this man, he has a reputation for resisting interrogation." "Very well," Cortez remarked, a sardonic smile on his face. "Have you checked the intelligence?" "I only just arrived General." "Then be about it. You may have a week, initially, to break the Englishman. The Doctor and I have some planning to complete. However, we, I may change that timetable." The two men went into the inner office, leaving Alvarez to his thoughts and his reports. He pondered the comment about 'their plans', more changes, and the slip the General had made, implying that Heinmann had more influence than he knew. That worried him, he couldn't focus. Looking away from the desk, he scanned the room. It was then he noticed a battered pilot case near the armchair the Doctor had been using. A quick check proved that the case was double locked, the clasp lock and a hasp and staple with a padlock. Alvarez was tempted to try and pick the lock, but as it was obvious that this doctor had the full support of his superior it would be somewhat suicidal to go tamper. He went back to his desk and called for a clerk. The next hour was taken up dictating his report on the interrogations that morning. He wanted to get back to the prison and set out his plans for Barker, but he had to assign duties for the mop- up. His own men occupied offices on the floor below his, so he descended to the briefing room, where they had gathered for 'roll-call'. His immediate subordinates, three Majors, took 8 hour shifts so that there was always a command officer available. The outgoing Officer of the Day, Hernandez, and his relief, Calavera were both present. Alvarez despised them both, they were political appointees, no imagination, no interest in the work. He was delighted to assign the job of securing the rebuilding of the electrical station to Calavera, and asked Hernandez to assign some of his Captains to searching the houses of Diaz and Tormollo, the two caught with Barker. He was annoyed that the third Major, Rodriguez, was not present as he had requested it. Returning to his office he discovered the pilot case gone and a note on his desk from Cortez. "You have thirty days' total to complete your interrogations. Failure will not be taken lightly. There are vested interests in Barker, so do not kill him!" ***** Ray was getting really uncomfortable as his clothing was soaking wet and he was beginning to feel thirsty for the first time. He was starting to realise that sitting in the water was a bad idea, not that he had a choice, for it seemed as though there was a constant trickle from the top of the pit. His internal clock was telling him that he had been in the pit for about eleven hours when the cover was raised. Expecting sudden daylight, he closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds as he raised his head, then cautiously opened them. As he had expected, bright sunshine reflected down the walls, all glistening still with water. A shadowy figure blocked the light and Ray saw something dropping towards him. He managed to catch the small bottle of water the guard had dropped down but, as he went to check it out, so the light went as the lid clanged down again. Not knowing how long he would be down the pit, he contemplated survival tactics and decided to wait a little longer before opening the bottle. His instincts had kept him going before, so he waited for what he felt was another five hours, by which time he was feeling very thirsty, so he broke the seal and took a half-mouthful of the water. He swallowed the first and took a second part-mouthful to moisten his lips. He tightened the cap again and then realised he was feeling very sleepy. Most of the water in the base of the pit had now gone, so as he felt himself drifting off he knew he shouldn't drown. As sleep claimed him, he realised that the water had been drugged, but there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't conscious to know that the cover opened and a slim woman, dressed as a nurse, was lowered into the former well- hole. She carried a doctor's bag and pulled a pre-loaded syringe from within. The addition of a needle and the usual tap and spray preceded the injection of the contents into Ray's behind. Once that was done she checked his eyes with a light and then signalled for the rope to be hauled up. She cleared the well for them to lower the lid and left, with a glance at the Lieutenant in charge and the instruction; "No one is to know of this" By the time Ray recovered consciousness any residual feeling from the injection had faded, so he knew nothing of the action. He knew he didn't want to trust the water they had tossed down, but the fact was he was not sure about the water still flowing in diminishing amounts down the walls, as if the ground were squeezing the last of the storm's moisture from its body. He also had no idea how long he had been out! His body clock told him he had lost a couple of hours, most of which had been sleep, but he wasn't sure anymore. He decided to call out. "Hello? Can someone contact the British Embassy? I am an attach? of the British Government with full diplomatic immunity!" There was a faint echo within the well, but only his own voice. He actually doubted that any sound would permeate the solid metal roof to his prison. He grimaced in the dark. "Well I won't say I told you so, but you heard it here first!" he commented into the darkness. As expected, there was no reply. He stood up and tried to exercise by walking around the walls, but the ground was uneven and two trips later, bruised and cut by contact with the wall and the floor, he sat back down and tried to meditate again. He did think about getting some un-drugged sleep even as he started to concentrate on relaxing himself in the half-lotus. A few seconds later the well reverberated with the sound of someone pounding on the 'roof', almost as though they were striking it with a baseball bat. The sound was almost deafening and so low frequency that he could feel the vibration in his chest. It went on for about five minutes or so, then it stopped. Grateful, Ray took his hands from his ears and once more tried to relax and meditate. He was just starting to get focused when the noise started up again, rhythmically; one-two, pause; one, two, pause... He covered his ears again; this time rolling onto his stomach to try and stop his ribs from reverberating with the noise. In doing so he felt the water bottle spring out from under his body. He was almost tempted to drink some, just to avoid the din. Then it stopped, although his ears still rang with the echo. They were definitely softening him up for the main event, he just wondered when that would be. ***** Alvarez, checking on Barker, discovered that his prisoner was able not only to sit comfortably in the base of 'the hole', but found he was meditating. Annoyed, he had the Englishman hauled from the pit and fastened to a cruciform that held him in the standing position but allowed him to use his left arm to grasp the water bottle, supported in a holder about a foot from his mouth. Then he was lowered into the pit again. The cross-beam that his torso and right arm were tied to slotted into supports in the wall, thus keeping Ray on his toes and upright. He had not been given any food and the water bottle held the same, drugged, water he had had earlier. By now he was fully aware of his dishevelled state, and that he had now gone nearly another whole day without water. Desperate, managed to splash his lips with some of the water and put the bottle back. With luck, he thought, the drug will have become ineffectual. At least he had discovered that it was daylight when they had hauled him out of his prison. But then that didn't mean much because he was now weak from the lack of water and food. Just moistening his lips had made him want to drink more, but his survival training kicked in and he controlled the urge. What little drug was absorbed in through his lips and palate, however, was enough, in combination to his growing exhaustion, to make him nod-off. Alvarez spent the afternoon questioning Diaz. He was disappointed with the lack of further information that came from the former corporal. The other man, Tormollo, did provide additional information, but it didn't make much sense, since it concerned a convoy of off-road vehicles he had serviced for Barker in his normal capacity as a car mechanic. ***** The third day began with a pounding of baseball bats on the roof of 'the Hole'. A guard was lowered far enough to be able to change the water bottle and inspect Barker's face. Once that was done, the lid was closed again and quiet reigned for almost an hour, then the pounding began again. Unable to mitigate the reverb against his chest, Ray found the experience most disturbing. The new water bottle had a plastic tube that he was able to reach, but it meant that he would have to suck water along the tube, thus taking in more water than he needed for wetting his lips, which in turn meant that he would black out from the drug, which he could taste. An hour after the noise had stopped the roof opened. Ray was once again unconscious and the nurse from earlier descended into the pit to give him three injections. She also examined his face, also his arms and legs. She also took a Polaroid picture of his face before returning to the surface. They then closed off the well and waited two hours before giving Ray a wake-up call with their baseball bats on the roof. The banging on the cover was repeated at irregular intervals. The same happened on the fourth and fifth days, although by then Ray wasn't sure how long he had been in 'the Hole'. The sixth day they hauled him out of the pit and changed the supporting bindings. He was incoherent and unable to resist as the fed him some thin porridge. His legs felt stretched, his arms ached and there was a burning sensation where the bindings that held him up had cha fed him through his coverall. He drifted back to full consciousness as they lowered him back down the pit, the pain of the straps holding him up cutting through the stupor as his toes poked down, trying to find the ground for support again. He could feel the ground, now very definitely dry beneath his bare toes, as his feet pushed his weight upwards, ineffectually he realised, despite almost being 'en-pointe' which should have given him support. ***** The last day of the first week he was hauled out again, this time he was placed on a gurney and wheeled into the interrogation room. For two hours Alvarez and two lieutenants kept on at him, questioning him about the booby-traps at the refinery, his working with Diaz and the other dissidents and who he was working for. He resisted. He fought back in the only way he could, he refused to speak. Alvarez finally ordered him to be put back into the pit. The nurse intercepted the soldiers as they took Ray back. He had blacked out again, so he was still unaware that he was being dosed again. She also opened his coverall and examined his body making many notes. ***** In the office of the prison Alvarez made several phone calls, getting more information from the bomb disposal teams about the devices, ordering his evening meal at a favourite restaurant and getting a progress report from Calavera. He was making notes from the information when the lieutenant reported that there was a visitor. The visitor proved to be the General's physician, Colonel Romero, sent by the General to examine Barker. With him, although Alvarez did not know it, was the nurse that had been treating Barker in the bouts of induced unconsciousness. Once again, they hauled their captive from the pit only this time he was subjected to a full body examination and measurements were taken of every limb and muscle, torso, hip and waist. Official pictures of Barker's face were taken, before and after he was shaved by the prison barber. Then they returned Barker to the pit and clanged the roof shut, leaving Ray suspended and in increasing agony as his metatarsals protested at the strain of supporting his body in the un-natural position. ***** A further three weeks passed with Ray stuck in 'The Hole' with a, frequently drugged, water supply, presented to him like the dripper bottles used to provide water to laboratory rats in their cages. He now neither knew, nor cared, how long he had been in captivity, all he knew was that every limb ached in every muscle. His feet cramped frequently, his calves and thighs also. His arms were so numb he couldn't lift them, his screams of pain from the recurring pins and needles in all his extremities were ignored by his gaolers. The other procedures, the injections and the interrogations, also continued but Alvarez added other debilitating actions to weaken Barker. Despite the pain, he had still not given any serious intel to the frustrated Alvarez, who was also, seemingly, undergoing a trial of his own. Pressurised by the General and other members of the cabinet to get the booby-traps removed from the refinery, he seemed to be losing his normal calm, clinical attitude on occasion, indulging in occasional tantrums of thwarted ambition. He spent most of his days at the prison, and all of his nights sleeping in his little en-suite bed at headquarters. Alvarez was not surprised to see the General and his European 'friend' arriving in the office on the morning of the thirtieth day of Barker's captivity. Alvarez had thrown his commander a perfunctory salute and then glared at the Doctor the moment the General couldn't see. The elder man took no notice of Alvarez' ire, he merely pursed his lips in a smile, no teeth, no eyes, just the lips. He then straightened some of the papers on the desk, to Alvarez' annoyance. "Well Colonel?" Cortez asked. It had become the standard question every morning. His own expression that of a father trying to encourage a promising child to step up and prove their worth. "Very little General. He has confirmed that the devices have sophisticated anti-taper mechanisms. He seems to be remarkably tough and is only doing enough to keep us from removing them." Cortez nodded and waited to see if Alvarez would add anything. The Colonel remained silent for almost a minute. "I have managed to confirm that he was staying at the Grand Hotel and sent Calavera to search the room. I am studying what we recovered from the room. It was being paid for by the British Embassy." The General glanced anxiously at the Doctor, who dismissed the look with a brief shake of the head. "And?" "They were not expecting him sir. They seemed to think he was on some expedition to the interior, something to do with wildlife. When Calavera arrived, they thought there had been some problem and wanted to contact the British. He stopped them, reminding them of National Security." Cortez glanced at their guest, who raised his right eyebrow inquisitively. "Find what this is about. Do you think you can get anything else from Barker?" "I think he knows more but he is resisting. Why?" "We..." the Doctor said, "...want something different from Mr Barker. Information we can take time to extract. You have until Midnight to get anything more out of Barker. After that, I want him delivered to the Interior Ministry." "Why there?" Alvarez asked. "That will be explained later." "But he's my prisoner!" "Deliver him to the Captain in charge, who has been briefed on what to do." The command in the German's voice was clear. "That is my order also," Cortez added, before Alvarez could object. He continued... "I am promoting Major Rodriguez to Lieutenant Colonel, as your Deputy, he will work with you to, control, Barker's interrogation along with his deputy, Captain Ortega. You will be in overall charge, but you will report to Doctor Heinman and me. We will dictate any changes to the regime we have now planned" "But Rodriguez is too junior for the promotion." "How important is the information Barker has? Apart from the booby traps?" Heinmann asked. "I know he has more information..." Alvarez wilted under the stares of both men. "Peripheral, he could not have been with the malcontents long enough to have any vital information about their networks, his booby-trap appears to be impenetrable and Diaz and Tormollo have not significantly added to what we learnt in the first week." "So, again, there is nothing vital apart from the situation at the refinery?" Alvarez looked aggrieved. "No! So what use will moving him be?" "We have plans, so do as you are ordered Juan." Cortez' voice was controlled but brooked no argument. The use of his first name caused a worried expression to cross Alvarez' face. "As you order General." "They have initial first instructions. You can return to your prisoner Alvarez, but make sure you deliver him to Captain Ortega by two am." "Yes General." Alvarez saluted and left. ***** 4. Choices "When faced with two equally tough choices, most people choose the third choice: to not choose." -- Jarod Kintz, This Book Title is Invisible ***** To Ray the pain and confusion was almost all-encompassing. He could barely move anything but his tongue and his eyes. His arms, he thought, looked like shrivelled prunes. His face, on the few occasions he had caught a glimpse in a mirrored surface, was gaunt, sallow and papery. Details from his ordeal came and went in his memory, but he could still recall that he had not given way. His only problem was; he wasn't so sure that his condition would have improved if he had 'broken'. His wandering mind revisited events from his past as well as experiencing several strange 'day-mares', hallucinogenic, ethereal imaginings that occurred in his waking hours. His sleep, such as he had, was apparently dreamless, since the main times that he was unconscious had been sedative induced. Agony tore his body apart again as the roof lifted and he was raised up into the night. Released from his personal cross and lain on a gurney with the sides raised, his body contracted into a foetal position, despite the effort needed and the pain endured. A nurse appeared and examined him, his mind said he knew her, but he couldn't remember. She vanished again, to be replaced by four guards, who each took a corner and wheeled the gurney into the building. A blanket was used to cover most of Ray's body and then he was loaded onto an ambulance. Ray was bemused as they moved him from the prison. He desperately wanted to sleep but was intrigued by this new development. He had detected the strain in Alvarez' voice after he had returned for the final session of interrogation and wondered what had caused that. This move was probably a big part of it. Where were they taking him? Where was Alvarez? Why was he being moved? ***** In the strange room beneath the Ministry several guards were pumping warm water into the metal tank. Chemicals were added, mostly a rock- salt, to increase the buoyancy of whoever was placed inside. A double set of steps were placed at either end. In his staff car Alvarez was looking through Captain Ortega's file. He couldn't see anything that could explain why he had been given the job of working on Barker. In fact, at 59, he should have been pensioned off in his opinion. He arrived at the ministry building and went to find Ortega. The elderly Captain was waiting in the foyer. His salute was crisp, but he did look his age. He fell in step with Alvarez as he walked to the foyer office to hand over the instructions. "Colonel, General Cortez' orders are that we follow these rules." He indicated the sheaf of papers marked with a post-it note. Alvarez glanced at the first page, then took a longer look. He sat down heavily as he read through the instructions. "This is loco." "Barker is to go in the tank first, until six am. Those are my instructions." "Carry on then Captain. I will read the rest of these... notes." Ortega saluted and made his way to the service entrance of the building where the ambulance carrying Barker had arrived. The gurney was pushed into the freight lift and descended to the lower level marked PB. Preceded by two of the four guards who had the responsibility of holding open the doors as the other pair guided the gurney, he followed them taking Ray along to the tank room at the end of the corridor. Two of the guards opened the tank while the others stripped Ray of the filthy coverall, leaving him completely naked. Before he was put into the tank a flesh coloured brief was slid up Ray's legs and his testes eased back into the abdominal canals before a tube was inserted into Ray's urethra and then they bent the emaciated genital back and tucked it into a pre-form so that there was virtually no bulge. Then they lifted Ray and climbed up the steps and slid him into the tank. The catheter insertion had stirred Ray from his torpor as he was immersed. His first instinct was to try and drink some of the water, but his head was being supported, keeping his face above the water. Then he heard a pump start up and warm water sloshed over his body. It felt good to feel properly warm but there was a familiar taint to the smell of the water and he realised that the additive was heavy brine. The cool water began to heat up until he couldn't feel the water at all, he was just floating. Then they set his head into the support, closed the lid and he was in darkness. Ray hadn't expected anything like this, but he accepted the soft caress of the water, he was so exhausted at this point that drifted off into unconsciousness. The support kept him from turning his head and body. Sleep eventually took over, so he was just drifting and blissfully unaware of what was happening around him. ***** Alvarez went through the security provisions and then walked through the back corridors of the ministry to find the goods exit/entrance. He found four armed guards there, plus two outside the single, large goods lift shaft. Another two guards stood back to back either side of the stairwell. He took the lift down to the bottom, entering the bunker level for the first time. Two guards, waiting at the bottom, snapped to attention once they recognised him. The entrance to the bunker here was through a large airlock. A few moments passed while the door equalised, and the inner door opened. He then stepped into the bunker proper through a reception area about twenty feet square. A double door led from the reception area into the barrack room corridor. Three guards and a receptionist occupied this room. The receptionist, also a member of the security police, but in civvies, stayed at her desk as she was supposed to do. Alvarez commandeered one of the guards to show him around the barracks area. He inspected the sleeping areas, noting the provision of rooms for three officers. The armoury, a range and then the door into the main bunker area. He made his way along to the suite that was apparently to be Barker's prison. He went around the boudoir with a look of shock. His hand briefly rested on the mother-of-pearl handles for the hairbrushes. The pause almost like a momentary memory. Annoyed now, Alvarez left the room and almost slammed the door behind him. Less than a minute later he was approaching the door to the tank room. The guard there challenged him with a bayonet fitted rifle, which did nothing to improve his temper. He stepped back and faced the corporal with the cold steel. "My apologies Colonel, but we cannot enter the tank room while Miss Barker is in there. The door is sound-proofed so none of the sound disturbs us out here." Alvarez was distracted by the bayonet, but he noticed the use of 'se?orita'. However, he held his counsel on that. "That was good thinking then Corporal. I am prepared to overlook you nearly sticking me with that knife." "Captain Ortega is waiting for you in the observation room." The corporal saluted and then went back to his post. Alvarez made his way back to the barracks and then went up a small flight of metal steps to a mezzanine cabin. There he found Ortega looking at five televisions. Three views of the boudoir, one of the bedroom and one of the tank room. "Sorry for the surprise sir," Ortega said as Alvarez sat down in the second seat. "But we have to keep the room quiet while Barker is in the tank..." "I don't u