Friday, September 23, 2011

Spy Hunt in D.C.

His wrists were tied, so were his ankles. A gag wasn’t needed, the Colt ensured his silence.

His body, mouth and spirit were restrained, but his mind was far away from inhibition. He was trained to maintain a clear focused mind in the direst situations. Even more relevantly was the fact that the next few hours will determine his fate. Putting away thoughts that predicted of a bleak future, he had to concentrate on his exiguous options. He had to forget, for the time being, the plight that was befalling him; acerbity of recent defeat, the exhilarating journey on hand, and prospect of upcoming hours of contempt, inquisition, perhaps torture and eventually scandal and an infamous trial of treason. If all his expertise, knowledge and resilience were ever put to test, this was the ultimate moment.

He was locked, in the cargo compartment of a red Fordson E83W van, in the custody of two black escorts. Though in restraints, the two men never betrayed their duty of keeping an eye on the “devil in bonds”. The Canadian journalist, who set up the ambush, was sitting in the front passenger seat, periodically looking back on his prisoner, and checking on the vigilance of the escorts. Two hours onto Interstate I-20, the journalist finally offered food and drink to the prisoner; however, he just drank water. He was denied access to a W.C. in the station, and urged to fulfill his human needs at a deserted place, away from curious eyes. 

Of course, they had to sleep in the car, with two of the captors always on watch; one driving and one guarding.

“The British embassy in Washington D.C.” was the destination of this aggregation. That’s what the journalist announced, and he believed him alright. Obviously the Canadian had no allies, no one to trust, and eventually resorted to the orthodox, conventional way of doing things. The Canadian clearly understood that the prisoner’s people, the Corporation, were well into the British system. He couldn’t risk collaboration with individuals who’d prove to be compromised or under surveillance by the Corporation.

“I will deliver you, a traitor, a mole inside the British intelligence, to the ultimate British authority on American soil; the Embassy in DC. I think I can rely confidently on British bureaucracy to eligibly restrain you. Going through the gates of the Embassy, under sights of several witnesses, will ensure your conviction beyond doubt. No matter how influential are your people, they can never exert control over all people in that place.” The Canadian laughed mockingly. 

However, the prisoner sure hoped him wrong. He was scheming heavily, how to prove him so.

Find out how would this Spymaster revive his chances and turn the table on his captors. Now, for a limited time, FREE on Smashwords, here:

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