Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

“You know, a women’s genitals are a very sensitive place.” Von Klitzing said this after detaching the bulldog clip from her breast. Holding both clips in front of her face once again, he made their jaws open and close in a demonstration of the pain they would cause her. Then, very slowly, he moved one of the clamps down between her legs, stroking her thigh with the cold metal as he went.

“Please, don’t!” she pleaded. But looking into Von Klitzing’s eyes was like staring Death in the face, and she knew there would be no sympathy.

Holding the second clamp just inches from her left eyeball, he watched her strain to move her head away, a small whine of helplessness escaping her lips. That seemed to please him, and, for a second, she hoped for a reprieve, but none came, only a sharp pain from between her legs as the first clamp was applied.

“A last chance, Mrs Jarvis?”

Lisa swallowed down the pain and sent another volley of spittle in Von Klitzing’s direction by way of a reply. When the alarm sounded, she mistook it for more pain, her senses’ confusion tricking her mind. Seconds later, the door was flung open, and two guards rushed into the room.

“Sir, we are under attack! You must leave immediately.”

“I am not finished; just do your jobs and leave us!”

“Sir, you know the rules. You must leave now.”

“Can’t you see I am busy? This woman has valuable information!”

“She is not going anywhere, sir. You can return to her later, as soon as we have the situation under control.”

The men took an arm each and forcibly lifted Von Klitzing from his chair, dragging him out of the room.

“You imbeciles!”

Lisa watched the men drag Von Klitzing away, wriggling and squirming like a spoiled child. They hit the lights before the steel door slammed behind them, and she was plunged into darkness. Alone in the room, just the screaming siren assaulting her ears.

Michael was only fifty metres from the interrogation room, and every nerve in his body wanted to make a run for the door, with only common sense holding him back. They would be coming from both directions along the hall now, the larger force coming from the communications centre, which was next to the interrogation room.

This will be the decisive fight, he told himself.

When the clink of steel on stone came, he knew it could only be one of two things, a grenade or a flash bomb. Diving instinctively to his left through an open door, he did a forward roll, smacking his skull hard against the far wall of the room. Covering his head with his arms, he hoped the blast would go in the other direction. Not one but three blasts shook the building around him, and the room instantly filled with a thick fog of dust and mortar. Taking a chance, he pulled his sweater up over his nose and made another forward roll back into the corridor. Ending up in a crouch, facing towards the interrogation room, he was just in time to see three figures moving down the inside of the wall towards him. Six muzzle flashes later, they were all down. Remaining in the crouch, his senses trying to reach out and feel for the next aggressor, he was relieved when nothing more came than an eerie silence. Back on his feet, he was off at a run. Hitting the guard room door with the sole of his right foot, he was greeted by nothing more than dust, and he admonished himself for being impatient.

You idiot, you could have gotten yourself killed!

A few deep breaths and Michael went on the search for new ammunition. The room was full of a mix of electronics and gun racks. Taking an assault rifle down from one of the racks, he searched the cupboards. The very first one revealed grenades. The second bore an ammo belt and ammunition, which he put on, clipping four of the grenades onto the belt before moving carefully back out into the hallway. He crept to the door of the interrogation room, looking both ways along the hall and listening for the sound of more guards. When none came, he gently opened the door to the interrogation room.

“Lisa, are you in there?”

The muffled sound of his voice was like music to her ears, and the relief she felt was palpable.

“Michael!”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, yes!”

She was about to continue, but he was already in the room, flicking on the light and closing the door behind him.

“Oh my God, what have they done to you? Are you all right?”

Tears welled up in his eyes. Seeing his wife strapped to that chair was more than he could bear, and the rage inside him grew.

It was my job to protect her. What if I can’t do that? He was racked with guilt.

Her left thigh was caked in blood, and a cable was hanging from between her legs. He rushed to release her, ripping at the leather straps and gently removing the clamp.

“Lisa, I am going to have to remove this.” Michael gestured at the scalpel.

She nodded and bit down on her lip. He wasted no time, pulling the scalpel from her leg with one swift tug, before applying pressure to the wound like a trained medic.

“Can you hold this a second?”

She nodded and pressed down on the wound with both hands. He found her clothes in the corner of the room neatly folded and placed on the concrete floor.

Von Klitzing is not your regular psychopath, he thought.

Passing her clothes to her, he knelt down in front of her.

“I will be right back, darling, hold tight.”

“Michael, don’t leave me!”

It was too late. He was already out of the door. But less than a minute later, he was back, clutching a complete first aid kit. Taking a swab from the small white box, he pressed it onto her leg. Expertly wrapping a gauze bandage around her injured thigh, he secured it with a safety pin. Looking her straight in the eyes, he took her face in both hands and kissed her hard on the lips.

“We have to move!”

Lisa nodded and slowly dressed herself, doing her best not to bend the injured leg. Fortunately, there was little bleeding, with only a small red dot appearing in the white linen of the bandage.

“Come on, let’s see if you can walk.”

He lifted her up onto her feet, and she put her arm around his shoulders before gingerly trying to put some weight on her left foot, but a bolt of pain shot up her leg, stopping her.

“I don’t think I can.”

“What if I carry you?”

“You can’t carry me and fight off their guards.”

“I can and I will. Stay here, and I will clear a path and then come back and get you.”

Without waiting for an answer, he moved to the door, slowly easing it open. There was no sign of any resistance, but he decided not to take a chance, launching grenades in both directions up the halls.

“Grenade!”

The call went up with a blast and was followed by coughing and a series of groans from at least two different men. Michael charged off in their direction, the rifle poised should he meet any resistance. Stopping at the corner, he peered tentatively in the direction of the moans. Two men lay against opposite corridor walls, both seriously wounded. It amazed Michael that they were not screaming their lungs out; one had lost a good portion of his left back, so much that his intestines were escaping onto the linoleum flooring. The other clutched his eyes, blood running freely between his fingers.

If they were animals, you would put them out of their misery, Michael thought.

Two shots later, the hallway was silent. Michael stood and stared at the bodies, shocked by what he had just done.

“What the fuck!”

Throwing the rifle to the floor as if it had suddenly become infected, Michael stared in disbelief at the slaughter. Turning away from the bodies, his stomach convulsed, spewing its contents down the corridor’s whitewashed wall.