Busha George coughed, spluttered, and fought to catch his breath as water streamed down his face. His eyes sprung open, but he quickly shut them as they hurt from a bright light shining in his face. He tried to turn his face, but found that he was restricted. Restrained. He was confused, but was having trouble clearing his head and organising his thoughts. A fly landed on his nose, and he tried to move his right hand to brush it away, but he couldn’t move his hand. He tried to move his left hand and could not move that hand either.
What the hell a gwaan?
Busha George began to realise that he could not feel his extremities. Panic rose from the pit of his stomach.
Calm down! Got to think.
Busha George breathed slowly and deeply. He then tried to feel and move his fingers and toes. Slowly, he began to become aware of his body, and its position. He could feel cold metal around his wrists, and he began to feel the cold, wet, hard floor under his bare feet. He tried to open his eyes, but the bright lights still hurt his eyes.
‘Mr. Albert.’
Busha George was startled by the female voice. He had not heard anyone enter nor had he sensed the presence in the room. ‘Yes. Who the hell is that? Where am I?’
‘Who I am, is not important. Where you are is also inconsequential.’
Cluck. Cluck. The footsteps were slow. Slow. Measured. Deliberate. The echo in the room made it difficult to be sure from which direction the steps where coming, but it did help Busha realise that the room was small.
‘What do you want from me? Where are my diamonds?’
‘Ah. A man of my own heart. To the point. So you are working for Mr. Johnson?’ Her accent was African.
‘For Mr. Johnson? Lady? Yuh know who me is?’
‘Deflection. You disappoint me. I am not interested in who you are. Just answer the question.’
‘Mr. Johnson. That Jamaican fool tried to get in my way.’
‘Jamaican? Mr. Johnson is American.’
‘What? Woman. Stop playing games. Let me down.’
‘Where are my diamonds?’
‘Woman, let me down.’
There was silence. Then the stiletto footsteps were now moving away from him. The blazing light was switched off. It took a moment for Busha George’s eyes to adjust to the dim light, but he soon noticed a table in front of him, illuminated by a lamp. A monitor sat in the middle of the table. The monitor sprang into life and Busha George could see himself on the screen. The screen flickered into action, and it was not long before Busha George realised that he was watching a video of the scene at the plane crash site. He watched as his team killed Simon’s team, and saw his men run and retrieve the duffel bags. The monitor went blank.
‘I’ll ask you again Mr. Albert. Where are my diamonds?’
‘Where the hell did you get that from?’
‘That is immaterial. Where are my diamonds?’
‘Lady. I think that video shows that the diamonds are now mine.’ After a short pause, ‘Look lady, maybe we got off of the wrong foot. Let me down, and I’ll split the diamonds with you.’
The woman walked within view of Busha. The woman was athletically built with strong but subtle, attractive features, and she had a small diamond in her nose.
‘Mr. Albert, have you ever heard the term – death by a thousand cuts?’
‘Are you trying to scare me? Do you know who I am?’
‘Historians say that the Chinese used that form of torture as late as 1905. They cut their victim with extremely sharp knifes, and it took as long as three days for them to die.’
‘Lady, I don’t scare easy. And when I get down from here, you and Mr. Johnson will regret this.’
‘You know, that it is said that they usually cut out the eyes of their victims first, because it enhanced the mental agony,’ the woman said calmly. She pushed the table with the monitor away, and wheeled another table into view. The table had a selection of knives arranged on it. Busha eyed the knives suspiciously.
‘I have tried to reason with you, but now you are resorting to threatening me. You are either very stupid or,’ she paused and looked Busha askance, ‘you know I can’t think of what the alternative would be. I guess you must be stupid.’
Busha watched as she started to pull on surgical gloves. She wheeled another table within view. This had a small coal burner on it, with some red-hot skewers resting in the fire.
‘What are you going to do?’ Busha asked nervously.
‘Where are my diamonds, Mr. Albert?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know where I am, or who you are.’
‘That is immaterial. I just want to know where my diamonds are.’
‘I don’t know.’
She picked up a long blade, which had a wooden handle. She quickly approached Busha, and cut a three-inch shallow wound in his chest. Busha shouted in surprise. She turned, put down the knife and returned with one of the red-hot skewers, and cauterized the wound. Busha screamed.
‘Did I mention that I had spent some time perfecting the Chinese methods? My record is four days. After that amount of time, the subject is willing to tell me their life story.’ She chuckled. Her white teeth were neat and even. ‘One man even proposed to me. But that was just before I removed his testicles. So I had to decline.’ She laughed.
‘Listen. I have money.’ He watched as she returned with a smaller knife. The tone of Busha’s voice rose. ‘I have a Swiss account with five million US dollars in it. You can have all of it.’
She made a two-inch incision in Busha’s thigh that made him wince. He looked down and could see blood slow seeping from the wound.
That wasn’t too bad, Busha George thought. Maybe her bark is louder than her bite.
He almost smiled, as he watched as the woman slowly walked away. His eyes opened wide as he watched her approach with a skewer that glowed red in the dim light.
She licked her lips as she watched the whites of Busha George’s eyes expand alarmingly as the skewer got closer and closer to his thigh. She squealed in delight as Busha George released a guttural scream when she closed the wound with the skewer.
‘What do want to know?’ Busha panted. ‘I’ll tell you anything.’
‘Je sais que vous, Monsieur Albert. I know you will.’ She smiled.