A Bloody Storm: A Derrick Storm Short by Richard Castle Read Free Book Online Page A

into the room and it had a solid door. There were no windows. Escaping was going to be difficult.
    She pulled her legs up to her chest.
When were they coming?
She had no concept of time, and that frustrated her.
Was it night? Was it day? Were they sleeping?
    Showers had never been a patient person, and after several minutes of aimlessly swatting at flies and wondering what might happen next, she decided to take charge of her situation.
    She screamed, unleashing her pent-up rage.
    “Here I am! C’mon inside.”
    She waited, listening. But there was no reaction. Only silence. She decided to try again.
    “Hello!” she called. “Let’s get this party started.”
    Still no reply.
    There was no way for her to know that Hasan Sadikov was only a few yards away, resting on a metal folding chair outside the room. His back was facing the door and he was reading.
    Books were Hasan’s escape. He ignored Showers’s calls and instead focused on the novel. He wanted to read another thirty pages before he would stop to interrogate her. The wait would be a good thing. He’d done this many times before and had always found that his victims were uncomfortable with uncertainty. The imagination could be worse than the reality, especially with Westerners. They’d watched too many horror films.
    Hasan was teaching Showers a lesson, too. He wanted her to understand that she had no control over her current situation. She was at his mercy.
    It had become quiet inside the slaughter room by the time he finished reading and placed his book into a well-worn satchel that he had brought with him. It was time to go to work. He stood, unlocked the door, folded his metal chair together, picked up the satchel, and carried it and the chair into the room.
    Showers still had her face pressed against her knees when he entered. She quickly lowered her legs.
    “I think we should speak in English,” he said politely. He moved close to her, opened his chair, and took a seat. To Showers, Hasan looked completely unremarkable. He was a middle-aged man of medium height with a belly that hung over his belt. He reminded her of a man you might see riding the bus to work or walking with his children in a store. He could have been anyone.
    “I’ve visited the United States,” he said, smiling. “New York, Washington, D.C., and, of course, Orlando. Have you been to Disneyland?”
    “Disney World,” she said, correcting him. “Disneyland is in Anaheim, California. Disney World is in Orlando.”
    He ran his right hand through his black hair. He turned his neck from one side to the other, as if he were a boxer getting limber before a fight.
    Showers said, “I’d like to use the toilet.” She was testing him.
    He paused, considering her request, then said, “I am a reasonable man.” He called out, and a younger man entered the room. “Bring us a pail.”
    “I’d rather use a bathroom,” Showers said.
    “Of course you would, because then you could try to escape from this room. But a pail will have to do.”
    The aide placed it next to Hasan’s chair, and he slid it with his foot toward her.
    “You can do it here. I’ll wait,” he said. “I might even turn my head.”
    Considering how much trouble Showers had had when she’d undone her pants in the bathroom at the English service area, she decided to wait. She kicked the pail back over to him. “I’m not using that.”
    He shrugged.
    They were playing a power game, and she apparently was going to lose.
    “When I was in the United States,” Hasan continued, “I kept hearing a phrase. It was ‘I have good news and I have bad news.’” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and continued, “The good news is that I am not a cruel man. I am not a terrorist. I have no interest in holding you hostage for years for ransom or sacrificing you for the glory of Allah. If it matters at all, I was raised Eastern Orthodox.”
    “Obviously, you slept through Sunday School.”
    “A sharp wit,” he said.