Jay found himself propped against the corner of the interrogation room. The cold of the concrete wall relieved the pain in his back. The urine had dried and his legs felt stuck to the floor. The handcuff securing his left hand was fitted around a bandage. He moved his fingers and grimaced at the pain and the memory of a nail being driven through flesh and bone. His head felt like an anchor atop his shoulders. Neck muscles twitched from the weight as he raised his head to take in his surroundings.
Primrose, in the opposite corner by the door, sat on a table. He swung his legs back and forth like a child on a playground swing. Jay's boots, watch, wallet and clothes lay next to Primrose.
'Good to see you back with us, Jay. How are you feeling?' Primrose asked.
Jay felt stiff and sick. He tensed and relaxed his muscles to get the blood flowing. He licked his swollen lips and swallowed hard through his scorched throat. 'Screw you.'
'What, like you did my wife? Perhaps another time. We have business to attend to.' Primrose jumped down from the table, took two paces toward Jay and straightened out his camouflaged fatigues. The way he wore the uniform reeked of arrogance, Jay thought. Heavily starched collar ironed flat against his thin shoulders. Sleeves ironed flat and measured to sit precisely in the middle of his wafer-thin forearms. The shirt tucked in and held tight by a web belt that held his pants too high. Boots that didn't need polishing were thick with wax.
Primrose dug into his pocket.
Jay's chest tightened. He thought Primrose was reaching for his multi-tool. Not again. He couldn't deal with any more punishment.
Primrose withdrew his copper comb and flicked it again through his thinning hair.
'You're a sick little man,' Jay said.
'In good health, actually. Better shape than you, in fact.' Primrose put the comb away. 'Ever heard of the term Sub Rosa?'
'What?'
'How's your Greek mythology? You're familiar with Eros, the god of love, aren't you? Maybe not.' Primrose made the motion of firing an arrow from a little bow. 'He bribed another god, Harpocrates, to keep quiet about his mother's secrets. Ironic, considering Harpocrates was the god of silence. Why would he need to be bribed?' Primrose shrugged. 'I digress. Cupid gave Harpocrates a rose, which henceforth became a symbol of confidentiality. It's still used to this day by many organisations around the world. Sub Rosa. Under the rose. In a nutshell, it means secrecy.' Primrose paused for effect. 'You're probably wondering why I am giving you this lesson.'
Jay's resolve strengthened as the numbness dissipated. He continued to tense and release his muscles. 'Not really. More along the lines of how I'm going to kick your arse when I get out of this.'
Primrose chuckled. 'We'll see.'
'Why the hell am I here, Primrose? This is insane. What the fuck did you and your crazy bitch wife do to my hand?'
A small vein popped out the side of Primrose's left temple. 'Patience, I'm getting to that.' He rolled his tongue over his thin lips. 'Besides, it was only a small nail. You should be thankful my wife was kind enough to bandage it. Nailing your hand to the table wasn't personal. On the other hand, pissing on you was.' Primrose's left thumb played with his wedding ring.
He continued. 'Under the bandage, on the inside of your wrist, you will find a symbol, a rose tattoo to be exact.'
Jay turned his attention to the bandage. Surely not, he reassured himself. That would be insane.
'There'll be plenty of time later to check out my wife's handiwork. She's an excellent tattooist. Mind you, it did help that you stayed so still for it.' Primrose gave another chuckle.
Jay recalled seeing only one tattoo on Catherine. The Star of David etched into her hip. It looked professionally done but somewhat aged. He thought an excellent tattooist would have many more. He put the thought aside and glared at Primrose. 'Are you fucking crazy?'
'Maybe, but I do have an end in mind. Pay attention. Your skills as an intelligence professional and interrogator are highly attractive. I don't understand why you haven't accepted the big money overseas.'
'Guess I like being tortured by freaks too much.'
The grin evaporated. Primrose said, 'Let's just say it's part of your initiation.'
'I'd like to withdraw my application to your little fraternity of psychopaths, thanks,' Jay retorted.
More veins throbbed at Primrose's temples. His usually pale face reddened. He reached down into his pocket again. This time he withdrew the multi-tool. He flicked open a long thin blade. It shone under the fluorescent light as he held it up for Jay to see. 'You think you're hurting now?' he said.
Jay pulled his knees to his chest. Bravado had caught up with him. He tucked his head down and squeezed his legs in as tight as he could and waited. Nothing. He raised his head.
Primrose closed his left fist around the blade, bit down on his lip and yanked the blood-soaked blade free. He clenched his wounded fist and crimson red trickled down to the cuffs of the fatigues. 'You and I are going to be blood brothers.'
Jay knew what was coming. During a recent presentation at the Centre, a visiting psychological profiler mentioned that flicking blood across a new prisoner's face was common in some South American prisons. Symbolic for marking which gang claimed the new prisoner. Blood brothers.
Primrose thrust the wounded hand forward. Jay blinked and jerked his head toward the wall. The blood missed its mark and splattered beside his head. He turned back toward Primrose and looked into the face of lunacy.
'This isn't a game,' Primrose hissed. 'The beating was real. The nail was real. The tattoo is real. And the pain can get worse.' Primrose wiped a forearm across his mouth. He reached around to his back pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. 'I have a recording of you raping my wife.'
Jay caught his breath. 'You know I didn't . . .'
'Shut up!' Primrose heaved his chest and sucked in deep breaths. He wiped the blade and folded it back into the multi-tool. 'Listen to me carefully. You need to do exactly as I say or that recording goes straight to the cops. Comprende?' He placed the multi-tool back in his pocket and wrapped the handkerchief around his wounded hand.
'You're a smart boy, Jay. Think of the ramifications. Here's how it works. You have an extra job now. You work for me. You will carry on your teaching duties here at the Centre as well as any extra odd jobs that I have. You will not tell anybody what you are doing. You will not be caught. I have plausible deniability. One wrong move and not only will you jeopardise your career, you will also be putting your life and your father's life in danger.'
The statement hit like the hammer. 'What's my dad got to do with this?'
'Thought that might spark your interest. Normally I would threaten your kids, wife or girlfriend. Problem is, the only relation you have is your dear old dad. Interesting life he's led. Like father, like son, hey? Though instead of Afghanistan and Iraq, he did Vietnam and retired to a civilian spy agency. National Secret Intelligence Service, I believe. And thankfully, now that he has semi-retired, he's an easier target for me.'
'Leave him out of this.'
'I have no choice, Jay. Like I said, I have an end in mind. Which reminds me, I've got things to do.' He turned toward the mirror. 'You can open up now, dear. We've finished.'
'What do you want, Primrose? This is crazy. You can't leave me here, you son of a bitch.'
The door opened and Jay caught a glimpse of Catherine. There was no smile from her and she had paled.
Primrose turned back toward Jay. 'I hope you have thought up a good excuse to be here. Consider it as your first test. Think Sub Rosa, Jay.' He fished into his pocket, withdrew a small key and threw it into the middle of the room. 'Can't have people thinking you handcuffed yourself now, can we? I'll be in touch.' With that, Primrose shut the door.
Jay wanted to shout but the key on the stained concrete drew his attention. He couldn't waste time waiting to be discovered in the lower depths of the Centre. And having to explain his condition. He couldn't risk going to the authorities just yet. Primrose was psychopathic and Jay had to warn his father.
It was time to go.