government tasked you with?’ she asked in a calmer manner.
He bowed his head, knowing that no matter what came out of his mouth he would be accused of lying. He thought it best to remain silent until the threat of violence came into the equation.
#
Miriam tried to get Sam to open up to her for hours, but nothing came of it. Her patience was wearing thin. Anger began to replace rationality, as he became more unresponsive and the need for violence became apparent. Max was the camp’s resident torturer: his favourite implements were bamboo splinters, which he would pierce between his victim’s fingernails.
He had been filing the tips of his bamboo splinters into sharp points, to inflict as much pain and discomfort as he could to the person at the other end of the aggression. Sam remained oblivious to what was going on behind him.
‘One more time, Sam.’ Miriam whispered in his ear. ‘What is your purpose?’
He remained defiant, refusing to answer her question. She gave a singular nod in Max’s direction, prompting him to begin the torture. He grabbed hold of Sam’s fingers and placed one of the pointed bamboo splinters under a nail. He pushed on it slightly, just enough to make him wince again.
‘Max, do what you do best.’ she ordered. ‘Some much-needed brutality to get this arsehole’s tongue wagging.’
With one swift bash on the end of the splinter, the point travelled down his nail, and with it followed a gut-wrenching screech.
The scream was heard by a clueless Oscar, who appeared to investigate. He looked at Sam in his pain-racked, helpless state and said nothing, just stared blankly at him. The man turned his head to look at him, tears rolling down his face.
‘Why are you crying, Sammy?’ Oscar said falteringly, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
‘Oscar, go!’ he shouted. ‘I don’t want you seeing this.’
He furrowed his brow and stormed off in the direction from where he’d come, never looking back. Looking at Sam’s face, Miriam suddenly understood.
‘Oh, I see, you were tasked to string the boy along, make him feel safe before taking him back to London.’ she had twigged what his motives were, just by looking at the forlorn expression on his face as he stared at Oscar. ‘You had no intention of saving him from the patrolmen, did you?’
He bowed his head in shame and began to break down.
‘It’s true! That was my intention.’ he cried. ‘Please don’t hurt me anymore.’
For a fledgling patrolman, he was a bit of a big girl’s blouse. It only took one bamboo splinter and the presence of the boy to break him completely. Seeing him in this vulnerable state did not detract from what needed to be done. She had only one choice to make:
was he to be hung or shot?
There was no other way to secure the group’s safety, including Oscar. In the end, the decision was up to him.
‘How would you choose to die?’ She posed the question to Sam, who hoped that the question itself was hypothetical. ‘If you had the choice of being shot or hung, what would it be?’
He stared up at her with a look of puzzlement on his face, but answered the question nevertheless. ‘What a strange thing to ask.’ he started, his voice trembling, ‘maybe a bullet to the back of the head, or something like that?’
She smiled and took his head in her hands. ‘Your wish is my command, my boy.’ she turned to Max and Robert, who had stood in the corner during the interrogation process, and ordered them to drag Sam outside, still tied to the chair.
‘Put the chair in the middle of the street, I’ll be out shortly.’
A look of terror was writ firmly across his face, as the two men began to drag him to his impending death.
Miriam went in search of Oscar so she could tuck him out of the way. She found him huddled up in a corner, sobbing.
‘Come with me, Oscar.’ she said calmly. ‘We need to go upstairs.’
She took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet. She led him up
He bowed his head, knowing that no matter what came out of his mouth he would be accused of lying. He thought it best to remain silent until the threat of violence came into the equation.
#
Miriam tried to get Sam to open up to her for hours, but nothing came of it. Her patience was wearing thin. Anger began to replace rationality, as he became more unresponsive and the need for violence became apparent. Max was the camp’s resident torturer: his favourite implements were bamboo splinters, which he would pierce between his victim’s fingernails.
He had been filing the tips of his bamboo splinters into sharp points, to inflict as much pain and discomfort as he could to the person at the other end of the aggression. Sam remained oblivious to what was going on behind him.
‘One more time, Sam.’ Miriam whispered in his ear. ‘What is your purpose?’
He remained defiant, refusing to answer her question. She gave a singular nod in Max’s direction, prompting him to begin the torture. He grabbed hold of Sam’s fingers and placed one of the pointed bamboo splinters under a nail. He pushed on it slightly, just enough to make him wince again.
‘Max, do what you do best.’ she ordered. ‘Some much-needed brutality to get this arsehole’s tongue wagging.’
With one swift bash on the end of the splinter, the point travelled down his nail, and with it followed a gut-wrenching screech.
The scream was heard by a clueless Oscar, who appeared to investigate. He looked at Sam in his pain-racked, helpless state and said nothing, just stared blankly at him. The man turned his head to look at him, tears rolling down his face.
‘Why are you crying, Sammy?’ Oscar said falteringly, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
‘Oscar, go!’ he shouted. ‘I don’t want you seeing this.’
He furrowed his brow and stormed off in the direction from where he’d come, never looking back. Looking at Sam’s face, Miriam suddenly understood.
‘Oh, I see, you were tasked to string the boy along, make him feel safe before taking him back to London.’ she had twigged what his motives were, just by looking at the forlorn expression on his face as he stared at Oscar. ‘You had no intention of saving him from the patrolmen, did you?’
He bowed his head in shame and began to break down.
‘It’s true! That was my intention.’ he cried. ‘Please don’t hurt me anymore.’
For a fledgling patrolman, he was a bit of a big girl’s blouse. It only took one bamboo splinter and the presence of the boy to break him completely. Seeing him in this vulnerable state did not detract from what needed to be done. She had only one choice to make:
was he to be hung or shot?
There was no other way to secure the group’s safety, including Oscar. In the end, the decision was up to him.
‘How would you choose to die?’ She posed the question to Sam, who hoped that the question itself was hypothetical. ‘If you had the choice of being shot or hung, what would it be?’
He stared up at her with a look of puzzlement on his face, but answered the question nevertheless. ‘What a strange thing to ask.’ he started, his voice trembling, ‘maybe a bullet to the back of the head, or something like that?’
She smiled and took his head in her hands. ‘Your wish is my command, my boy.’ she turned to Max and Robert, who had stood in the corner during the interrogation process, and ordered them to drag Sam outside, still tied to the chair.
‘Put the chair in the middle of the street, I’ll be out shortly.’
A look of terror was writ firmly across his face, as the two men began to drag him to his impending death.
Miriam went in search of Oscar so she could tuck him out of the way. She found him huddled up in a corner, sobbing.
‘Come with me, Oscar.’ she said calmly. ‘We need to go upstairs.’
She took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet. She led him up
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