Chapter 172
172
Ihad no idea where they took me. All I know is that they put a hood over my head at the bottom of the stairwell, pulled me out of the building, and shoved me into a van.
Then they drove for half an hour, at which point I was taken out of the van and marched into another building.
When they removed the hood, I was standing in a small concrete room with a cot, a sink, and a toilet.
They frisked me, took all my possessions, and uncuffed me.
“Don’t go anywhere,” one of the agents said drily as they slammed the metal door shut on me.
I was pretty sure I was in a ‘black site’ – one of the ‘off the books’ facilities for questioning suspects during the War on Terror.
Which made me a little nervous.
I figured they wouldn’t hurt Rachel – but I wasn’t so sure what they’d do to me.
And I wasn’t too eager to find out.
Turns out, there wasn’t anything to be worried about. No torture – just a lot of boredom. Plus the fact that they had me prisoner.
That was okay. I’d been a prisoner before – and under much worse circumstances.
I wasn’t allowed to see Rachel, but I’d expected that.
I wasn’t allowed any phone calls, either, or access to a lawyer.
I expected that, too. After all, I was dealing with a spy agency. They didn’t have to play by the rules everybody else did.
On the plus side, I got three meals a day served to my room on a tray. The food wasn’t terrible.
Actually, I was used to gourmet Italian food at Dario’s house, and now I was eating British food – so it was kind of terrible by comparison. But at least it was better than the chow hall at San Vittore.
I was given a prison-like jumpsuit to wear when they took my suit. They even allowed me to shower in a separate bathroom, albeit under armed guard.
Every day, a new person came in to grill me about my connection to Alistair.
I was just happy they didn’t use any ‘enhanced interrogation techniques.’ I mean, I was at a black site. However, they treated me well.
They always asked the same questions, just phrased slightly differently. And they kept circling back to minor details I’d already told them. They were trying to trip me up to see if I was ever inconsistent.
I was honest about everything… although when they asked about Dario and his brothers, I said I was ‘head of security for a wealthy Italian family p>
They didn’t ask too much about that, though. They stuck almost exclusively to Alistair.
The ordeal went on for roughly 14 days. Since I had no clock and no window to see any outside light, I wasn’t sure if I was exactly right about the days – but the meals seemed to come at regular intervals, so I used them to gauge time.
I daydreamed a lot about Rachel. About how thankful I was that the truth had come out and that we were back together again.
I also spent a lot of time thinking about how to handle things with her once I got out of the black site.
I thought about Dario and his brothers, too. I worried about them – especially about what Fausto and Aurelio were up to. I wondered what was happening with Massimo and the woman he’d saved in Venice. Last I’d heard, they were going into hiding – but that had been almost three weeks ago.
I did calisthenics and bodyweight exercises to keep me occupied since there wasn’t anything else to do. Nobody gave me so much as a magazine or a book – much less a television – so I slept when I got bored.
I slept a lot.
That was my life for two weeks: wake up… breakfast… exercise… lunch… get interrogated… nap… exercise… dinner… go to sleep.
I felt like I was back in a much quieter, much cleaner, much lonelier version of San Vittore.
If only I’d had Dario around to talk to. That would have made the time pass much faster.
And then… on the 14th day… something changed.