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.