I didn't notice anything, until a gray van stopped suddenly at the curb and the sliding door flew open. Three men jumped out. Suddenly they were all over me, knocking me down, pushing my face into the grass and dirt on somebody's lawn.
Then I felt a sting in my thigh.
A needle?
Three men, not boys. Not the Tiger's team.
Who then?
Who was holding me now?
What did they want?
Cross Country
Chapter 148
THERE WAS A damp cloth over my face, some kind of a hood that reeked of rubbing alcohol. Then I was being pulled to my feet. I'd been unconscious, but I didn't know for how long.
I had no idea where I was now, but it wasn't a five-star hotel. I could smell, almost taste, body odor, feces, and urine. The ground under my feet was rough stone, maybe concrete. Did that tell me anything?
“Put your hands flat against the wall and spread your legs. Stay just like that. Don't move, or you'll be shot.”
“Where's my family? Where the hell are they? Who are you?”
Instead of an answer to the question, I heard an amplified whirring sound in the room.
“Stay just like that-or you die right here and now. Then you'll never know about your family. Never is a long time, Dr. Cross. Think about it.”
I thought about other things first. Who had grabbed me off the street in Southeast and was holding me now?
Could it be another Tiger? Somebody else from Nigeria?
The voice didn't sound like it. No accent. American. Could it be the CIA?
“Where's my family?” I asked again.
No one answered, and I stayed there with my hands tied and held flat against the wall over my head. 1 knew this particular kind of torture had a name, wall-standing. I was also made to wear a hood and was subjected to loud noise and sleep deprivation. I'd heard about these torture techniques before. Now I was the victim.
No one answered any of my questions, and I wondered if I was alone. Was I delirious? Was I dreaming all this?
My hands went numb first.
Then I could feel pins and needles stinging my ankles and feet. Then shooting pains moving up and down my legs.
My head began to swim and I thought I was going to pass out.
“I have to pee,” I said. “I have to go.”
No answer.
I held it as long as I could, then let go down my legs, over my bare feet. No one reacted. Was anyone there? Was I alone now?
Wall-standing. Some American government officials had said that it was okay to use techniques like this on suspected terrorists.
Was I a terror suspect? What had I done to deserve this? Who was torturing me?
My hands were completely numb and I badly wanted to sleep. I could think of little else and would have given anything just to lie down on the floor. I couldn't give in, though.
Wall-standing. I can do this.
I thought about stepping away from the wall and what the consequences might be. I held internal debates with myself. They wouldn't kill me, would they? What would be the point of it?
Finally, I turned my body so that only one hand was on the wall. Did that count? Was it a violation of the rules?
Immediately I was kicked hard behind the knees! I went down hard on the floor. Cold to the touch. A bed- finally!
But I was yanked right back up and thrown hard against the wall. Still, no one spoke. But I assumed the position. Not just my legs were trembling now. Everything was-my entire body was shaking terribly.
Who else was with me in the room?
What did they want from me?
