SECRET
LOCATION SOMEWHERE IN PARIS – PRESENT DAY
Tom Sheridan
stared impassively down the corridor, an unlit cigarette dangling between his
fingers. He watched as they dragged the hooded and bound detainee between them.
She was kicking, screaming and protesting, fighting them every step of the way
as they bundled her towards him.
He didn't know why he’d taken up smoking again, all he knew was that
he enjoyed the head rush it gave him and warmth in his throat. It reminded him
that he was still alive, when most of the time all he felt was numb.
His hands started to shake, he needed the reassuring warmth and the
kick right now, but would have to wait until after the interrogation. He slid
the cigarette into his shirt pocket and folded his arms, steadying himself,
building up courage.
He'd done this a thousand times. Usually the people he
questioned were real scumbags, they deserved what was coming to them. But not
this time. This one would be the worst of his career. This one meant something.
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