CHAPTER 54

Kurdistan, Iraq

September

LANDRY THOUGHT HE WAS going to die. As whatever drugs they’d given him wore off, panic began to set in. It didn’t help that he was beginning to experience withdrawal symptoms from the cocktail of recreational and prescription drugs that had become his mainstay. His wrists and ankles were bound, there was tape over his mouth and eyes, and he was wrapped in something heavy. The heat was stifling, and the pillowcase over his head only exacerbated the claustrophobic conditions. The only sounds he could hear were those of tires on various combinations of asphalt, gravel, and dirt as the vehicle traveled for what seemed like days, his brain having no reference points to maintain his sense of equilibrium. He dry-heaved repeatedly from motion sickness, his clothing soaked in sweat and urine. His brain raced to process what had happened; he lived a paranoid existence as it was, expecting betrayal at nearly every moment. He struggled to make sense of what had gone wrong.

Betrayed by Mo, but to who and for what? Had Mo found out he wasn’t really a CIA asset continuing his work for the United States government he’d started in Iraq?

This was more than misery. This was pushing Landry into the land of the insane. He squinted his eyes shut trying to make this nightmare end, only to open them to the darkness of the tape and hood, his muffled screams the only outlet for what had turned into an anxiety attack without end.

The van accelerated over gravel, made several sharp turns, and finally came to a stop, brakes squeaking. The driver was speaking to someone outside, and Landry heard the doors open. Whatever he was wrapped in was jerked from the vehicle. He landed on the ground with an unceremonious thud and rolled sideways as the rug unraveled. The effect was dizzying. Landry attempted to gasp for air, thwarted by the tape across his mouth.

It must be night, he thought, feeling the cool air against his skin. He could hear the distant hum of generators.

The scrape of a metal door penetrated the darkness and he was carried, facedown, by what felt like four men into a building of some kind. The footfalls of boots sounded as if they were walking on a concrete floor and he heard various doors open and shut in front of and behind them. No voices. The movement stopped and he was dropped onto the hard floor, his chin splitting on impact. He heard a strange sound that he couldn’t identify until he realized it was a pair of EMT shears cutting the clothing from his body. The room was freezing cold, and he felt increasingly chilled as his skin was exposed to the air.

His boots were pulled from his feet and he was left totally naked on the cold, hard floor. The door slammed shut and, hands still bound with zip ties and duct tape, he curled up in a ball, shivering and convulsing, on the verge of madness.

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