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“Give us ten.”
He nods and leaves, and the boss turns back to us.
“I meant it when I said things are different now. You have the tools at your disposal and I want regular updates. Whatever you need to get this task done, do it. There’s no charge or expectation of favours.”
It’s hard to believe her, but I try to hide my doubt. Devon on the other hand looks like he’s about to call bullshit.
“However, I still need to know about your other assignment, so fill me in. The abridged version please.”
“Thank you,” I say quickly but she holds up a dismissive hand to stop me saying anything more on the matter. “We extracted the information from Sebastian. It wasn’t much to go on. He was working exclusively with Harold but does not know his location or his plans.”
I see the disappointment on her face even as she tries to hide it.
“But he was able to give us one thing we didn’t expect,” Devon interjects.
“Which was?”
“He was working with someone. Sebastian never met her, but he heard them talking on the phone together. Often.”
“Her? Are you sure it was a woman?” she checks, and I don’t blame her. Harold Knox was a nasty piece of work, and his opinion on women was lower than low. We were just as surprised as she is when we found out.
“He said she had an accent. Australian. A bit like yours is actually.”
“Thank you for the intel,” she says stiffly, getting to my feet suddenly. “Please don’t feel obliged to stay for the event. Go home to your girl, you’re excused.”
With that, she exits the room, leaving Devon and I sitting in stunned silence.
Yesterday I fought back. Well, I think it was yesterday. The beating I got in response to lashing out was so severe I might have lost more time.
Who knows. Time barely exists here anyway.
I roll over on my mattress and my body screams in agony.
Once, I might have been tempted to check the damage, but what’s the point? I’m in pain, and seeing the cuts and bruises for myself won’t change that or make me feel any better. My stomach is so sore and tender though, and it hurts to take a proper breath. I suspect I might have fractured a rib or two when ‘peaches’ guy – scar face as I think of him – finally got his revenge for me puking on him.
I wish I could say it was worth it, I really do. But all that happened after I kicked up a fuss was the beating first, then they did what they wanted anyway.
I’m sure they were rougher than they would have been to prove a point: they’ve been treating me ‘well’ up until now, but I’ve had a taste of what they’re truly capable of.
It really is going to be easier, more bearable, to just give in.
