several pieces of apparatus set against the walls. Karim tried not to look at them. He could guess their function well enough. He’d never been in a torture chamber before, but he knew enough people who had. Some had been tortured, some had done the torturing. One of his best friends at university had been a Kurd. They’d lost touch for several years after Karim went to MIT, then made contact again about three years ago. On their second meeting, Dara had taken off his shirt and shown Karim the knotted scars that ran like tramlines across his back. It had happened during the year and more he’d spent in the Red Security Building in Sulaymaniyya. hi a room like this.
The prisoner was at the far end. The apparatus that held him resembled nothing Karim had ever seen or heard of. It was a cage with widely spaced bars, in which the man was standing upright. His head emerged through the top of the contraption, and his feet were supported on wooden boards that were covered in faeces and urine. He was naked and dirty, and his hair and beard were long and unkempt, straggling across the top of the cage like a weed that threatened to choke him. His features were masked, but Karim could see nevertheless that he was not Han Chinese.
‘We have been questioning him for a very long time,’ said Huang Zhengmei. ‘We want to find out what he knows.’
‘Does it matter?’ asked Karim. ‘He’s hardly in a position to tell anyone.’
‘He has not always been in this position,’ said Chang Zhangyi. ‘He may have told others before he came here. I need to know what sort of information they might possess.’
‘Information about what?’
‘About your project. Our joint project.’ Huang Zhengmei walked up to the cage and stood in front of it, staring at the trapped man as if he was an exhibit at the regional museum in Urumchi. ‘That’s what he was being paid to ask about. He was a professional, he did a very good job before Colonel Chang Zhangyi’s men found him. If we know what he has passed on, we may be able to do something to limit the damage.’
Karim took a closer look at the man. He was clearly in a lot of pain. The cage was stretching his neck, forcing him to stand on tiptoe to hold himself high enough to go on breathing.
‘Can he talk? He seems…’
‘He can tell us “yes” and “no”. If we need anything more detailed than that, we can raise him.’
‘I don’t understand what the cage is for.’ Chang Zhangyi reached out a stubby-fingered hand and took one of the bars.
‘It’s an old punishment,’ he said. ‘The name for it is kapas. Our old masters had great ingenuity. To cut a man’s head off takes no more than seconds. Even to flog him to death is a matter of hours at the most. But this cage is exquisite, don’t you see? It will take about eight days to kill a man. Sometimes longer if the victim is strong. The neck is stretched, but as long as he can keep himself upright, he will not completely choke. Each day one of these thin boards is removed, and he is forced to stretch a little more. He can never sleep, he can never move. All his energy must go into standing and breathing.’ He shook the cage gently, and the man inside moaned. ‘It’s a form of execution, really,’ said Huang Zhengmei, ‘but we’ve found it useful as a means of extracting information. A few days in the cage does wonders for someone’s vocal powers. Dull pheasants become songbirds almost overnight. They understand what is happening, and they know that, if they talk, they can stop it. They will either be sent back to their cells, or given a swift end. The penalty for not talking is an eternity in the cage.’
‘And this one has not talked?’ Karim tried to look into the man’s eyes, but they were glazed over with pain. He wondered if the man knew they were there. He wished he could do something to put him out of his misery. Get him to talk, at least.
‘He’s told us nothing of any value.’
‘Then why do
The prisoner was at the far end. The apparatus that held him resembled nothing Karim had ever seen or heard of. It was a cage with widely spaced bars, in which the man was standing upright. His head emerged through the top of the contraption, and his feet were supported on wooden boards that were covered in faeces and urine. He was naked and dirty, and his hair and beard were long and unkempt, straggling across the top of the cage like a weed that threatened to choke him. His features were masked, but Karim could see nevertheless that he was not Han Chinese.
‘We have been questioning him for a very long time,’ said Huang Zhengmei. ‘We want to find out what he knows.’
‘Does it matter?’ asked Karim. ‘He’s hardly in a position to tell anyone.’
‘He has not always been in this position,’ said Chang Zhangyi. ‘He may have told others before he came here. I need to know what sort of information they might possess.’
‘Information about what?’
‘About your project. Our joint project.’ Huang Zhengmei walked up to the cage and stood in front of it, staring at the trapped man as if he was an exhibit at the regional museum in Urumchi. ‘That’s what he was being paid to ask about. He was a professional, he did a very good job before Colonel Chang Zhangyi’s men found him. If we know what he has passed on, we may be able to do something to limit the damage.’
Karim took a closer look at the man. He was clearly in a lot of pain. The cage was stretching his neck, forcing him to stand on tiptoe to hold himself high enough to go on breathing.
‘Can he talk? He seems…’
‘He can tell us “yes” and “no”. If we need anything more detailed than that, we can raise him.’
‘I don’t understand what the cage is for.’ Chang Zhangyi reached out a stubby-fingered hand and took one of the bars.
‘It’s an old punishment,’ he said. ‘The name for it is kapas. Our old masters had great ingenuity. To cut a man’s head off takes no more than seconds. Even to flog him to death is a matter of hours at the most. But this cage is exquisite, don’t you see? It will take about eight days to kill a man. Sometimes longer if the victim is strong. The neck is stretched, but as long as he can keep himself upright, he will not completely choke. Each day one of these thin boards is removed, and he is forced to stretch a little more. He can never sleep, he can never move. All his energy must go into standing and breathing.’ He shook the cage gently, and the man inside moaned. ‘It’s a form of execution, really,’ said Huang Zhengmei, ‘but we’ve found it useful as a means of extracting information. A few days in the cage does wonders for someone’s vocal powers. Dull pheasants become songbirds almost overnight. They understand what is happening, and they know that, if they talk, they can stop it. They will either be sent back to their cells, or given a swift end. The penalty for not talking is an eternity in the cage.’
‘And this one has not talked?’ Karim tried to look into the man’s eyes, but they were glazed over with pain. He wondered if the man knew they were there. He wished he could do something to put him out of his misery. Get him to talk, at least.
‘He’s told us nothing of any value.’
‘Then why do