It all sounded so good in the lecture theatre, all those years ago.

God, it really was 'all those years ago'! It was as if it all had happened in another lifetime, with the instructors, endlessly waffling on, about KGB and STASI interrogation techniques.

What you could expect when the evil Red Empire got you in their clutches. What wonder drugs they employed to make you spill your guts, apparently sodium pentothal had been one of their favourites. But the theory, as in most aspects of real life, bore very little resemblance to the reality. He wondered how many of those venerable instructors had actually been on the receiving end of their lesson plan subject matter? That thought guiltily withered and died almost as soon as he realised he was even contemplating it.

All of the service's instructors were ex field agents, with many years practical experience at the sharp end of things. They weren't passing on book learned knowledge; they were imparting gems from their own experience. Experience gained, sometimes at great personal cost to themselves, all in the service of their country.

It's just that when it came down to it, he couldn’t find that elusive 'Good place'. He couldn’t divorce himself from the agony that wracked his body. He wanted to scream as the pain washed over him in waves. He wanted to thrash about, to try and find some position that lessened the suffering, where it didn’t seem as if they were removing parts of him with a rusty chainsaw. But they were superbly efficient; he had to give them that. Tying him down, rendering him immobile was a masterstroke. In another life he could admire that about them, their thoroughness and attention to detail. They were craftsmen in the art of extracting information.

That was a nugget to store away, to share with future generations of raw recruits, if ever he became one of the Academy Instructors. Some hope of that though, considering his current predicament. His most immediate concern was not to break.

Thoughts of trying to stay alive, believing that the Service was actively searching for him, came a pretty close second. Future career prospects were definitely on the back burner for now!

Realising the futility of trying to disappear into a self induced 'Good Place' trance, he started to logically run through the known terrorist cells. Specifically the ones that he knew were active in this region. There were quite a few that had been flagged as active recently, but it all made no sense. Why would they go to this trouble to snatch him? They must surely know that the Governments' position on hostages was an emphatic 'No negotiation' policy. The planning showed that it wasn’t a rag-tag bunch, they were definitely organised, with excellent intelligence, so why had they targeted him? He had no specific intelligence value, certainly nothing that would be of any use to them. He wasn’t directly involved with anti-terrorist operations any more, so why?

The longer he thought, the more confused he became. Every time an idea started to form, the pain would well up and wipe it out.

The periods of unconsciousness were getting less frequent now. It seemed like they were bringing him round, getting him ready for round two. They needed him to be awake for the torture to be effective. He had to be able to feel the pain, to hear the threats, to be frightened. He had to be able to imagine the worst.

There seemed to be more bustling activity behind the lights now, but the brightness, shining straight into his face, made them all just shadowy silhouettes. An apt description for them, shadowy figures that inhabit the murky, dirty places of the world.

Indistinct faces seemed to peer down at him; he couldn’t make out the details. They all seemed to be wearing masks. Damn they were good! He could hear voices muttering in the background, no doubt plotting what plan of action was required now. Obviously they still needed something from him, he must still have some value to them, or else they would have just shot him and dumped his body somewhere.

The voices seemed to be getting clearer now, he could make out the odd word or two, that's strange, it had seemed like English!
'Well doctor, he seems to be coming round at last'

'Yes nurse, who would have thought that falling down one flight of stairs could break so many bones!'