Thank you everyone for the gracious response to Chapter 8, I'm still in shock. To my editor Dawn, thanks and here we go again. You will notice some changes in my style, as I strive to improve my writing ability. Like I've always said, no one gets better without help, and why not ask the best. Thank you Miss Cullen and Mokkelke, for the sage advice to a fledgling author, now I know why you two are famous authors.
Just for the record, the cameo appearance is with permission.
November 1993, Classified CIA Detention Center outside of Lohr Germany.
Martina Kordic sat in her cell, starring at the white walls of the small room. She'd been under interrogation for months now, with no real end in sight. When she was in the sealed room last night, she overheard the two CIA interrogators talking about what they'd do after the water boarding. The drugs, sleep deprivation and starvation, were all inflicting havoc on her abused body.
She told them everything she knew about her late husband's activity, which wasn't much. He had kept her in the dark about most of it and when questioned, she had to make up stories so they would quit. When she didn't give the same response when asked again, the sessions become more pressured and painful.
Maybe if she could find something to take her own life with, she could finally join her husband and end this abuse. As she tried to think of any way to accomplish the suicide, her thoughts were broken when she heard the small door open.
'Oh goodie, another interrogation session. I wonder if they'll leave my clothes on this time.'
Jack Gilmore stood just inside the door, staring at the defeated woman. He was average looking for a man, and at forty-eight, had a small beer belly growing. His receding hairline and unkempt mustache made him appear disgusting to most women, including Martina. Her baggy clothes hid most of her luscious body, but he could still picture it in his thoughts.
The vision of a naked Martina Duval strapped to a metal table was fresh in his mind. The alligator clamps attached to her nipples, as voltage flowed through them. The most erotic images that flashed in his mind were of the repeated rapes that he alone performed after the interrogation. She was a captive, and he could fulfill his most perverted fantasies to no limit. The things that he had done to her body were ruthless, and beyond comparison to even the most perverted human.
"Hi Martina, it's time to wake up. We can't have you sleeping all day." The laugh he emitted as he kicked Martina's foot made her want to vomit.
"Yeah I guess I'll get enough sleep when I'm dead. What now, did you come up with a new way to get your rocks off because you can't get laid like a real man?"
"That's what I'm going to miss about you Martina, your witty sense of humor. Actually, the director has decided that you're useless as a source of viable Intel. We're taking you to Ramstein Air Force Base where you can spend the rest of your life in a nice little cell."
Martina opened her eyes and looked at him with an expectant look. It wouldn't be past them to offer a way out of here and then take it away suddenly. The North Vietnamese had used that tactic to great success. She couldn't deny the feeling of hope that rushed through her, but she held the excitement to a minimum.
"Yeah right, I'm supposed to believe that the CIA is just going to hand me over to the military. I know you don't agree with the director, because once I leave, you'll have to go back to pumping your fist again." Martina moved her hand up and down to emphasis her insult.
"Come on get up." Jack Gilmore grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her to her feet.
He led Martina out of the cell and into a very bright corridor. When her eyes adjusted, she saw another more younger and slender man leaning against the wall, holding a set of prisoner shackles. Jack pushed her face first against the wall hard, causing Martina to moan aloud in discomfort. The two men placed her hands behind her back and snapped the cold handcuffs closed. After securing her ankles, Jack spun her around violently.
"Yep, I'm really going to miss that sense of humor Martina." Grabbing a handful of her left breast, he squeezed hard into the tender flesh as Martina fought to keep from screaming.
He quickly placed his other hand under her chin and held her mouth closed as he turned her head. Now that the side of her face was exposed, Jack ran his wet tongue along the length of it. When he pulled back, he suddenly got hard at the site of her slimy face.
"I'll make sure I inform the Air Force guys about how you set up a SEAL team for slaughter and the attempted murder of two more. They don't take it kindly when someone sets up their Brothers-in-Arms."
'I just wish I could kill you, you sick fucking bastard,'
Martina thought, as the pain in her breast and the putrid stench of his breath was making her empty stomach heave upwards.
Jack released her and led her down the corridor to a locked door. Giving two knocks on the metal door, he heard the latch click and the two men pushed Martina through. Martina was holding her breath, she doubted they would really go through with it and was preparing mentally for the bomb to drop. She didn't want to give the prick the satisfaction of seeing her break again.
When the three of them exited the plain looking building, she peered up to the bright blue sky. Even though it was a little chilly, it brightened her spirits to see the sky again. It was the first time she'd seen actual daylight since being drug away in front of Kevin Dvorska.
The thought of his name caused the rage to swell quickly inside her soul. He was the cause of this. He was the one responsible for the death of her beloved husband. She could only hope that his life would be a living hell, he deserved it. Her raging anger diminished when she felt her body slam into the side of the sedan.
"Jesus Jack, knock it off. I don't like her as much as you do, but fuck man she's been through enough," Jason McKinley told his superior.
"If you don't like the way I do things, then you can go back inside and find me someone else to go along. I have a cousin who's a SEAL and this bitch deserves everything she gets. Now go back inside or shut the fuck up."
Jason chose to shut to up. He was well aware of Gilmore's reputation and he had the power to get him transferred if necessary. After opening the rear door for him, he watched on helplessly as Jack pushed her head down roughly, and shoved her into the back seat.
"I would sit back there with you honey cakes and get a blowjob, but knowing you, you'd just bite it off anyway." Jack laughed aloud as he slammed the door shut then walked around to the driver's seat.
'I'd give you a blowjob if I could find your dick – asshole.'
The black sedan pulled out of the compound and sped off down the road. Since it was Saturday, there was little to no traffic to worry about. Most of the people would be doing chores or housework, which meant they could make good time to Ramstein.
They were a few miles away from the classified compound when Jack Gilmore noticed a brown van approaching from behind them. After watching it for a few moments, the van began to veer slightly back and forth. It closed the distance between them and then backed off.
"Hey McKinley, check out the drunk fucker behind us. I thought German's knew how to handle their liquor," Jack said, then shook his head in astonishment.
"Let him pass Jack, this guy looks like he doesn't even see us up here. I'd rather not get rear ended with a prisoner in the car."
Martina looked back and silently prayed that the drunk driver would rear end them. With any luck at all, the damn car would explode and solve all her problems, not to mention take out the depraved bastard behind the wheel.
Jack Gilmore slowed down and stuck his arm out the window. He continued waving for the van to pass and after a few moments, it rushed forward quickly. The action was so swift that Jack thought he'd get his arm ripped off. This caused him to swerve off to the side and nearly run into the bushes that lined the side of the road.
As the van pulled away from them, Jack sped back up again and stared at the weaving van. "I hope that fucker wraps that van around a tree, one less fucking Kraut to worry about."
Jason just glared at his own driver.
