Gary Gibson - Final Days

Saul froze as he heard the sound of a door opening, then closing again, followed by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. He gasped with shock as a pair of hands grabbed him roughly and dragged him to his feet. He kicked out instinctively, and felt something hard slam against the back of his head with sufficient force for his knees to buckle.

Once more, the same hands hauled him upright, and this time he didn’t resist. As he was dragged away, the glimmer of light first faded and then intensified, and he was aware, from the echo of his own footsteps, that he was being taken from one room to another. Several doors opened and closed before he was finally shoved against a wall.

A moment later he heard the familiar click of a weapon’s safety catch being released, followed by the chill sensation of a gun barrel being pressed up against one side of his head.

‘Please,’ he managed to mumble, ‘you don’t need to do this. Just tell me what you want.’

No reply was forthcoming, as a second pair of hands loosened his belt buckle, before yanking his trousers down around his knees. Despite the gun pressed to his temple, Saul tried desperately to twist loose, as sheer panic finally overcame him.

Something hard slammed into his head a second time. A fit of nausea gripped him and he fought the urge to vomit. The two pairs of hands kept him upright, however, then lowered him on to a seat.

Saul became dimly aware of now being seated on a toilet.

‘If you need to take a shit,’ a heavily accented voice murmured very close to his ear, ‘now would be a good time.’

There was something familiar about that voice.

Saul merely nodded, too frightened to say anything more, the air within the bag close and hot, and filled with the smell of his own fear. Groaning with relief, he started to piss.

The two sets of hands held him secure by either shoulder, but the only sound he could hear apart from their breathingwas that of his own urine splashing into the pan.

‘Finished?’ asked the same voice, eventually, and Saul finally recognized it.

Narendra, the information broker. The man who’d told him Lee Hsingyun was legitimate, just before the fiasco on the ice-pharm.

Saul grunted his assent, and he was quickly pulled back upright. As hands refastened his trousers, he felt a trickle of warm urine run down the inside of his thigh.

A door banged open again, and he was led, stumbling, through yet more twists and turns, until a final shove sent him back on to his knees. He heard Narendra begin speaking in Turkish and, when a live translation failed to appear, he realized to his horror that his contacts had been taken from him. And if they had removed his contacts, they had also taken Jeff’s encrypted files . . .

A second voice replied, this one deeper and more guttural, its tone angry and dismissive. Saul listened carefully as the two men argued. Finally one pair of footsteps headed towards the door, while a shadowy form kneeled beside him, pressing something against Saul’s lips, until it forced him to tip his head back.

Water .

Saul gulped it down, realizing he must have become dangerously dehydrated. Some of it spilled down his neck as he swallowed it greedily, tipping his head ever farther back. Then his unseen benefactor stood up and departed, locking the door securely once more.

Saul slumped back, trying to breathe more evenly, and began to gather up some of his scattered wits. He could still hear the occasional call of distant voices above the rumble of machinery, and came to the conclusion he must be somewhere close by a building site.

Once he felt calmer, he carefully shuffled backwards, on his knees, until he felt the soles of his feet come into contact with a wall. He once again tried to rid himself from whatever was binding his wrists together, but his bonds simply grew tighter the more he struggled. So, in the end, he gave up.

Clumsily staggering upright, he then slid along the wall until he reached a corner of his makeshift cell.

He could feel a faint breeze there, which surely meant an open window. He next slid along the second wall, until he encountered the edge of the windowsill with his fingertips. Cool air ruffled his hair and made him wonder how high up above the ground he was.

Saul continued on his way, shuffling past the window and skirting around the next corner, until he felt a door handle brush against his fingers. He twisted himself around, bending his knees slightly until he could get a grip on it. The handle clicked slightly as he tugged at it, but the door was firmly locked. As he’d expected, really, but there was no reason not to try.

The door suddenly slammed open so that Saul lost his balance, toppling forward to hit the floor hard. He twisted around until he was lying on his back, then felt the air explode out of his lungs as someone drove 0">

Saul woke to blinding light as the bag was ripped from over his head. He sneezed and blinked, before gazing around at four bare plaster walls. To his right, he saw an open door and a half-open window beyond a floor of bare concrete. Plastic crates were stacked in a corner, each stamped with the name of a biotech pharm, probably agricultural supplies or seed stock.

Narendra stood by the window, the cloth bag still clutched in one hand. To one side of him stood a barrel-chested man with a shaven head, gripping a shotgun in both hands. His gaze was dark and entirely lacking in mercy.

‘I guessed it was you,’ Saul rasped at Narendra. ‘My contacts. What did you do with them?’

‘They’re somewhere safe.’ Narendra scratched at his goatee before stepping forward to kneel at Saul’s side. ‘I’m going to untie you now,’ he explained, ‘but please don’t try anything foolish. Eren here would be delighted to have an excuse to kill you.’

Saul felt his wrists fall loose, and he slowly moved his hands around in front of him. All the while, the barrel-chested man, Eren, watched him with the keen interest of a bird of prey dropping towards a field mouse. Predictably, his wrists were bruised and purple, and on flexing his shoulders, he heard their joints creak in protest.

A third man entered, carrying a tray laden with coffee and what smelled like kofte ekmek , rich with spices and onions and wrapped in brightly coloured paper. The man handed the tray to Narendra, then departed without a word. Saul heard his own stomach rumble.

‘You can get put away for a long time for kidnapping an ASI agent,’ said Saul, trying to ignore the pervasive aroma of the food. ‘Just how long have you been keeping me here?’

Narendra assumed a slightly apologetic expression, as if this were nothing more than a terrible misunderstanding. ‘Two days,’ he explained, placing the tray on the floor next to Saul. ‘Eat first, then we can talk.’

Saul laughed weakly. ‘What, now you’re trying to soften me up before you get to work on me with a pair of pliers? I don’t have anything to say to you, or to anyone else.’

‘All we want to know is why you’re here.’ Narendra’s gaze flicked towards Eren, then back again. ‘I’m sorry about your treatment. If it’s any help, it wasn’t my decision.’

‘I haven’t done anything that warrants kidnapping me off the street, believe me,’ Saul insisted angrily.

Eren barked some comment at Narendra, then headed over to the door. Narendra followed him abruptly, then paused with one hand on the handle. ‘As a gesture of goodwill, we won’t put the cuffs back on for the moment,’ he said. ‘But please think hard eat whatever you may want to tell me when I return, or else things may turn out very bad for both of us.’

‘It would help if I had the slightest idea what the hell you want from me,’ Saul yelled after him.