Fear by Francine Pascal Page B

the cell. He smashed into the stone wall and fell to his knees.
    â€œSo,” said Carlo. “Let’s go have that talk.”
    A comeback was on Tom’s lips. The only problem was, he couldn’t manage to get his lips to work. All he could do was lean against the wall and tremble.
    Carlo walked across the room and delivered a hard kick to Tom’s back. “Get on your feet. We’re going to go have that talk.”
    The muscle guys dragged Tom to his feet and shoved him through the door. By the time he had gone a few steps, the only thing left from the shock was a dull ache in his arm, but Tom made sure to stumble and shake as he followed Carlo out of the cell. It was always a good idea to make your enemy believe that you were more injured than you actually were.
    As they walked, Tom took a few quick looks at Carlo. He was actually fairly happy to see the man. It wasn’t exactly as if they were old friends. The first time Tom met Carlo, he broke the man’s nose and put a spear through his foot. The second time, he broke Carlo’s nose again. Tom had no doubt that Carlo hated him with all his heart. Which was good. Carlo would try to make Tom pay for what he had done, but he might be so intent on making him pay that he forgot about other priorities. The previous encounters suggested that Carlo was both emotional and not particularly bright.
    Those were qualities that Tom could use in his fight to escape. If he didn’t end up dead first.
    The walk down the hallway was Tom’s first chance to see more of the building where he and Natasha were being held. It seemed that his first estimate of the building’s age was correct. The place was ancient. There were torches placed in rusty metal brackets along the hallway with no sign of electricity. The ceilings were stained black with soot. The whole place seemed as old as some Mayan ruin. Tom studied each door they passed, trying to see which of them might be hiding Natasha, but all the doors were plain wood without a mark or window. Natasha might be beyond any of them.
    Finally they reached a room that wasn’t much larger than a closet. The two strongmen shoved Tom inside, and one of them moved in behind him. There was a chair in the center of the room. It looked like it had begun life as a plain old kitchen chair. Straight backed. Wooden. Something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a comfortable home. Only this chair had been through some pretty heavy modifications. There were straps bolted onto the chair in half a dozen places. At the back a tray was attached that held a series of car batteries and coils of wire.
    â€œSit down,” demanded Carlo. He turned to one of the shaven-head men and whispered something. The man nodded and hurried back along the hallway. Carlo scowled at Tom. “I said sit.”
    The other muscle man pressed the trigger on the shock stick. This time the lightning hit Tom in the back. His head snapped back and the muscles in his neck convulsed so hard that he thought it might snap. He collapsed into the chair.
    The big man worked quickly. Straps went around Tom’s ankles, wrists, thighs, and chest. By the time the man tightened the last strap, Tom could barely move.
    â€œNow,” said Carlo. “Now we’re ready to begin our talk.”
    Tom shook his head. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
    Carlo walked over and gave Tom a backhanded slap. “You said you wanted to talk—now’s your chance.”
    Tom only stared at him. They were going to torture him. He knew that. The batteries behind him would cause Tom to convulse and jerk uncontrollably. There would be pain. Lots of pain. But it would still be worth it. This trip outside the cell had given him a good look at what he was facing. There were few people on this island, maybe no more than the three he had already seen. The building was old, without electricity. There probably wouldn’t be any alarms or