#romania

“Sort of a sensory deprivation tank correct?” said Raymond.

“Yes, but with a twist,” said Ionescu. “Note that his genitals and nipple area are not covered by the wet suit. There is a reason for that.”

“Yes?”

With that Ionescu nodded to an assistant who placed clamps on the terrorist’s nipples. The clamps were connected to a wire that ran to a small generator sitting on a table near the tank. Then the assistant placed a lubricated plug about 15 centimeters long into the anus of the man floating in the tank. A soft moan emanated from beneath the hood. Next the assistant placed a circular clamp around the base of the man’s testicles. “Now for the final touch,” said Ionescu. The assistant held up a metal device. Raymond saw that it was a small straight rod with spiral wires around it. Ionescu stated, “The rod is inserted into the urethra of an erect penis and the wires wrapped around the shaft. It is connected to the base around the testicles, and the whole apparatus is connected to the generator. A dial on the generator controls the electrical charge. At low levels it produces a pleasurable tingle. Quite pleasant in fact. Some subjects have reached orgasm from it. But when the charge is increased, it becomes increasingly unpleasant.” The doctor chuckled, “Frightfully so. It breaks most men rather quickly.” Then, to his assistant, “Go ahead, Igor. Make the connections.”

But the assistant looked up. “He’s as limp as a noodle. No response. I even tried saline injections, but to no avail.”

“Then we have a problem,” said Ionescu. Then looking at Andi and Maya, “Do you want to try waterboarding again?”

But Maya spoke up. “Let me try something,” she said.

Maya’s train of thought was broken by the arrival of a nondescript vehicle. She noticed Andi, her Romanian liaison was driving and a man in a gray suit was sitting in the rear. Andi stopped the car and got out saying, “We’re here finally. Traffic was awful.” Then turning to Raymond, he said, “Raymond, this is Maya of the American CIA.” Maya stuck out her hand and said, “Pleased, I’m sure,” in a voice that left no doubt she didn’t really mean it. Raymond responded in an equally cold manner before saying, “I understand you have broken this terrorist fellow.” At that, Andi broke in, “I’d like to think our new equipment helped. And while Mahmoud is broken, Maya thinks he still has some information to give.”

Maya responded, “Yes. I believe he knows the whereabouts of Abu Hanza. I’ll get it out of him.” Then she fished another cigarette from the pack in the pocket of her trousers and lit it.

Raymond considered the woman and what she had said. Of course, he had read the dossier that the DGSE had compiled on Maya. It was thin; the CIA didn’t allow much to get out about their top interrogators. He read that Maya was probably from the American South, was bright, spoke fluent Arabic and had ‘interviewed’ several terrorists captured in the Middle East to great success. She was in her early forties. He had particularly noticed that she was not married and seemed to have no personal attachments. “Probably a lesbian,” thought Raymond to himself. “Or possibly a switch hitter. I would consider doing her.” As an after thought he mused, “Abu Hanza. To get his whereabouts would be quite a coup. I rather doubt she can, but if she does it would certainly reflect well on me with the DGSE. Perhaps I might even think of a way that I might take credit.”

Now his train of thought was broken by the CIA woman. “Let’s get to it,” she said as she stubbed out the cigarette she had been smoking. The three entered the building and went into a darkened room.

There was a large tub in the room filled with lukewarm water and a man, or what looked like a man to Raymond, floating in the water. It was difficult to tell as the man had on a rubber suit that covered almost all of his body. Raymond only knew it was a man because, the crotch of the wet suit had been split open so that the man’s genitals were exposed. Upon closer examination, Raymond also noticed that two holes had been cut in the chest of the wet suit so that the nipples were also exposed. Some sort of rubber hood was over the man’s face obscuring his vision. Raymond was sure that this was Mahmoud al Idlib. A short man in a lab coat approached. Andi introduced him to Raymond. “This is Dr Dragul Ionescu. He invented the device you are about to see being used on Mahmoud.” Then to the short man in the lab coat, “Dr Ionescu, please explain to our guest how this all works.”

Andrei Balanescu, or Andi as he preferred, was a captain in the Romanian Foreign Intelligence Service, or Serviciul de Informații Externe (SIE). He had been tasked with escorting the French Counterintelligence Assistant Chief to the CIA prison that was hiding in plain sight, on a leafy residential street along a busy set of train tracks in Romania’s capital. The CIA representative was already there waiting on the Frenchman. Andi waited outside of the arrival gate at the airport and smoked a cigarette. He thought to himself, “I’m not sure exactly why the Frenchman is coming. That poor Arab has already told the CIA woman everything he knows. Maybe she just wants to show off her interrogation skills. I wouldn’t mind her using some of those skills on me; at least the ones she used at first. We had been waterboarding that poor bastard for weeks and he hadn’t cracked. Then she gets here and in a matter of hours he spills his guts. I guess a lot of it has to do with the device our technical directorate developed. Well, that and the way she used it on him. Arabs are very scared of strong women, especially red heads. Ah, there’s the Frenchman.”