Two days search yielded no results.

At least, none that they wanted.

I never said a word.

“You know where it is. Why don’t you tell us?” one of them asked me. I merely shrugged. “I think you need some persuasion.”

We were in a cement building now, I was being led down a cold hallway. I could hear machinery nearby.

A heavy door was opened. I held back a gasp at the sight I beheld: my husband, blindfolded, in the center of the bleak room.

“We’ll make sure he’s fine,” one of them hissed in my ear as my gag-scarf was removed, “if you tell us where to find what we need.”

“Never,” I hissed back.

“Very well. We’ll see what he knows. But in the meantime, we must be a bit more… forceful in our persuastions.”

I swallowed nervously.

I didn’t like the sound of that.