had marble pillars on either side of it. In front of the altar was a large chair. Seated within it was their prisoner. His arms and legs had been expertly tied to the chair with rope by Laith, who was standing close to the man.
Will glanced at Roger and quietly asked, “Are you sure we weren’t followed here?”
Roger shrugged. “There were only a few cars on the road leading to this place. They all looked normal.”
Will smiled, although his mood was cold. “Good.” He swung his flashlight back toward the prisoner. The man’s head was slumped down, though he was awake and unharmed. “Let’s begin.”
Will walked to the front of the pews and sat down on them so that he was directly opposite the prisoner, fifteen feet distant. He positioned his flashlight on the pew so that it shone directly into the man’s face, stretched out his legs, and leaned back to rest his head in his interlocked hands. Laith sat down on the far right-hand side of the front pew; Roger perched on the far left-hand side of the front pew. Both men pointed their lights at the prisoner. Everything in the church was now in total darkness, save the altar and the trussed man before it.
When Will spoke, his voice was calm, of medium volume, and very controlled. “Lift up your head, please.”
The prisoner did not move.
“Lift up your head.”
The man remained motionless.
Will let out a long sigh. “Would you like me to lift up your head for you? I could do so in a way that would make you never want to lower your head again.”
Nothing happened at first. Then the prisoner gradually lifted his head, squinting as the flashlights’ beams struck his face. The man was clean-shaven, had hair that was now ruffled but would normally have been carefully held in place by creams, was wearing an expensive suit, shirt, and tie and had a slender build. He was fifty-one years old.
Will nodded, even though he knew that the prisoner could not see him and his men. “That’s better.” He placed one foot over the other. “We need to make our introductions. Your name is Guy Louis Harcourt-DeVerre. You are a British national, come from a family of nobility, and hold the aristocratic title of baron. But, more important than that, you are the MI6 Head of Moscow Station.”
The prisoner’s eyes seemed to adjust to the light. His eyes widened; his expression was one of anger. “A full introduction requires me to know your names.” Guy’s accent was polished, very well spoken.
Will glanced in the direction of Roger and Laith before returning his attention to the MI6 officer. “We’re very dangerous men. That’s all you need to know.”
Guy smiled, but the anger was still evident. “Judging by the accents I heard in the car coming here, you are clearly very dangerous English and American men.”
“Maybe. Or perhaps we’re SVR or FSB officers posing as Westerners.”
Guy slowly looked around, then back at Will’s flashlight. “Is this an inquisition or an execution?”
“That depends on how you answer my next question.”
Guy kept staring at the light; he showed no signs of fear. Will had expected as much from a senior MI6 officer of Guy’s stature.
Will unclasped his hands and adjusted his position so that he was leaning forward. “Where is Taras Khmelnytsky, the man who has the MI6 code name Razin?”
Guy chuckled. “I’ve never heard of him.”
Will kept his voice calm and neutral. “Yes, you have. You know about Razin because you work for him.”
Guy smiled. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Will stared at the officer for a moment before saying, “Your response does not help your situation.”
This time Guy laughed loudly, his voice echoing around the empty church. “My situation?” His laugh suddenly stopped. “My situation will in all probability lead to my death. You’ll do what you want to me. But whatever you do, I can’t give you an answer that I don’t have.”
Will leaned farther forward. “Listen to me very carefully. I’ve sat where you are now sitting a hundred times. I know all about the games that can be deployed to resist interrogation. I know what is going through your brain right now. Your primary objective will be to draw out our discussion for as long as possible, with the hope that you’ll be rescued by British or Russian forces. At the same time, you will be making rapid and evolving assessments of your captors: trying to ascertain what our objectives are, what kind of men we are, and how far we are willing to go to get what we need. When you realize that we are men who will stop at nothing, you will start feeding us half-truths and lies to keep our attention and to make you appear cooperative. Then, when that doesn’t work, you’ll feign shock, fear, and maybe illness to try to bring the interrogation to a temporary halt. And ultimately, when that tactic fails, you will ask us for things: water, food, for your ropes to be loosened, anything to make us think you’ve moved to a new level of resignation to your plight and are about to give us what we want. Time is the only weapon you have, and I concede it’s a powerful weapon. But I regret to say that time is my enemy and you’ll have no chance to play out your games.”
Guy stared in the direction of Will; his face still showed no fear. “Then we are in a bit of a bind, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d say we’re in a terrible bind. But I think I have a solution to our predicament. Do you know what that is?”
Guy nodded. “Of course. You need to torture me. Though I must forewarn you that pain doesn’t scare me and in any case I’ll just tell you what you want to hear, but it won’t be the truth.”
“We’ll see.” Will looked toward Laith and said, “Get the box.”
A few seconds later, Laith appeared next to Guy, carrying a five-sided metal box and some rope. He placed the items on the floor, pulled open Guy’s jacket, and ripped apart his shirt so that his naked torso was visible. Lifting up the box, he carefully positioned its open side flush against the MI6 officer’s belly and began wrapping the rope over the box and around the man’s body so that it was tightly fixed into position. Laith looked toward Will, nodded, and disappeared back to his seat on the pew.
Will smiled. “Do you know what that is?”
Guy remained calm. “I’ve no idea.”
Will placed his hands together as if he was in prayer. “It’s my means to accelerate matters.” He narrowed his eyes. “I need to know the precise location of Razin. You’re going to tell me. The box will make you do so.”
The Head of Moscow Station shook his head before angling it to one side, frowning and then smiling. “I see. You’ve an explosive device inside the container. It’ll detonate after a period of time unless I give you what you want. The bomb will be small enough to destroy my organs but not large enough to hurt you.” He grinned. “I regret to tell you that I don’t have the secret you want. And even if I did, my life has been devoted to protecting secrets. I’d rather lose my life in an instant than give you what you want and live out the rest of my life feeling that I had betrayed not only my employers and my work but also myself.” His face turned to one of anger; his voice deepened. “Let your bomb go off. I don’t care.”
Will stretched his fingers. “I thought you’d say that, and for that reason I’ll tell you that there’s no bomb inside the metal box. An explosive would give you far too quick a death. Instead, there’s something inside the container that ordinarily you wouldn’t fear. But today you’re going to be terrified of it.” Will stilled his hands. “Inside the box is a rat. It’s sedated. But I estimate that in fifteen minutes it will awaken. Upon doing so it will feel disoriented and scared and will draw upon its survival instincts to do everything it can to get out of its prison. It will scratch and use its powerful teeth to try to force a route through the metal sides of the box but will quickly realize that it stands no chance of doing so. Then it will feel that one side of its prison is softer than the others. It will decide to bite and claw its way through that surface.”
A bead of sweat ran down one side of Guy’s face. “A rat?”
“We didn’t have time to come up with a more refined solution to our bind. For that I’m sorry, because when the rat awakens you’re going to suffer the most agonizing death. It will burrow through your abdominal muscles, tear through your stomach lining, and gnaw through your intestines and liver and kidneys. You won’t die straightaway, because the rat will have a hard task. I think it will take at least thirty minutes for the rat to tunnel its way through your torso until it has emerged out of your back. And at every stage of the rat’s journey, you’ll feel it inside you, scrabbling and ripping through your body.”
Another bead of sweat fell over Guy’s face before dropping to the floor. “I’ll immediately lose consciousness and will be of no use to you.”
Will shook his head, smiling. “We’ll pump your body with adrenaline and saline solutions to keep you
