Tom Clancy's Op-center Balance of Power - Tom Clancy [102]
The captain walked over and looked down at her. He smirked and put the hard heel of his boot against her forehead. He leaned into it and her head went back further.
"You asked me if I were sure I would get the information in time," the captain said. He grinned cruelly. "Yes, seńorita. I am sure. Just as I am certain that many of the people we've brought to the palace will be purged from the system. Just as I am sure that we will win. A new nation isn't born without blood, sacrifice, and one thing more: willingness. The willingness to do whatever is necessary to get what you want."
María's vocal cord strained against the tightening flesh of her throat. Thick cables of pain twisted along her body from the front of her ears to the small of her back.
"I could snap your neck," the captain said, "but then you would die and that wouldn't help me. In stead, I will give you five minutes to reflect on the situation and then tell me what you know. If you talk, you will remain our guest but you will be unharmed. If you choose not to talk, I will leave you to these fine men. Believe me, seńorita. They are very good at what they do."
The captain released her forehead. María gagged horribly as her throat relaxed. The pain in her back was replaced by a cool, tingling sensation up and down her spine. She swallowed hard and tried to move, but the men were still standing on her back.
The captain looked at the men. "Let her taste some of what she can expect," he said. "Then maybe she will think differently."
As he backed away, María felt the boots lifted from her shoulders. She was hoisted up by the arms. As she was getting her footing a fist was driven hard into her belly. She doubled over, the air rushing from her lungs. Her legs went out from under her but the men held her up. One of them grabbed her hair from behind, pulled her erect, and she was punched again. María actually felt the contours of the fist against the small of her back. Her legs wobbled like ribbon and she moaned loudly. The next blow came up from under her chin. Fortunately, her tongue wasn't between her teeth as they clacked loudly and painfully. After a second blow, which knocked her head toward the right, her lower jaw hung down. She felt blood and saliva roll along her extended tongue.
The men released her and she dropped to the floor. She landed on her back with her arms splayed and her knees raised. Slowly, her bent legs rolled to the right. María didn't hurt; she knew that the pain would come later. But she felt utterly spent, the way she did when she bicycled up a hill and had no strength left in her limbs. Yet as weak as she was she forced herself to open her eyes and look at the men. She wanted to see where they wore their guns.
They were all right-handed. That would make things easier.
The soldiers stepped into the hallway, splitting up her cigarettes. They shut the door and turned off the light. She knew this drill: break the body and then leave the shocked, disoriented mind a few minutes alone to contemplate mortality.
Instead, she forced her trembling hand down the front of her jeans. She found the cigarette and she drew it out. She rolled onto her side and peeled the paper away to get at the match. It was a trick she'd come up with years before when she worked undercover. Being frisked usually cost her her cigarettes. This way she got to keep a match. In a bind, fire was an ideal offensive weapon.
Her eyes were adjusted to the dark and she looked around. There was a group of music stands in the corner. She looked overhead and saw what she expected to see: a pair of sprinklers. There was one by the door in front and the other by the door that led to the dining room.
Perfect.
She crawled over to the stands. Her limbs were still shaking. She promised that she wouldn't ask much of them; only the strength to get her through the next hour or so.
When she reached the corner she got to her knees and then