Breaking Lorca by Giles Blunt Read Free Book Online

the woman’s small muscles shook as if exposed to icy winds. And with every breath, a deep quiver travelled through her in a wave.
    “She’s lying,” Tito said again. “We are not animals here.”
    “Shh,” Captain Peña said. “Quiet, sergeant. Let the prisoner speak.”
    “General—” She choked back tears to address Victor once more. “I swear to you I have done nothing wrong. I have broken no laws. I am not with the rebels. I don’t know any rebels. I am not even political. I don’t deserve to be treated like this. Nobody deserves to be treated like this.”
    Victor concentrated on writing her words down. It gave him an excuse to avoid her blind stare.
    Lopez was about to say something. Captain Peña cut him off with a motion of his hand. There was a long pause, the only sound that of the woman’s sobbing. Clear mucus dripped from her nose and she tried to sniff it back. “May I dry myself, please?”
    “You may not. The General wants you nice and wet. Are you going to tell him your real name now?”
    “Maria Sanchez. It’s the only name I have.”
    “All right, Miss Sanchez. Have it your way. Shake hands with General Electric.” The Captain gestured at Victor. “You do it. Sergeant, show him how.”
    The woman’s hands were tied to the arms of the chair. Tito showed him the tube of conductive jelly, the electrodes with their little alligator clamps and duct tape. Then the sergeant grabbed the index finger of her left hand. “For fingers, just use the electrode. You tape it.”
    “Don’t do it for him,” said the Captain. “Let him do it. He has to learn.”
    The woman started to kick, and Lopez tied her feet to the chair legs.
    Victor spread conductive jelly on the woman’s bony finger. It was messy, his hands were shaking so badly. “Don’t do this,” the woman said. “Please do not do this.”
    “Shut up, whore.” Tito slapped her hard across the head. “Do the other hand. Same finger.”
    When it was done, the Captain told Victor to sit down again. “All right, soldier. Watch where I put this dial. There is an art to it.” He turned the dial to the number two.
    The woman made a sound like nothing Victor had ever heard—a prolonged, unearthly howl.
    The Captain shouted over her. “Don’t give them any more than thirty seconds the first time. We want them still able to talk.” He turned the dial back to zero and the woman slumped in her chair.
    She’s dead, Victor thought. But after a moment she started to breathe, inhaling with a sound like tearing fabric.
    “You do it this time.” The Captain slid the black box toward Victor. “Turn it a little higher. Around three.” Victor turned the dial, and the Captain shouted again over the woman’s howls: “Second time, you give them a little more. And a little longer. Forty-five seconds to a minute.”
    Victor turned the dial back to zero and the woman fell to one side—so heavily that both she and the chair tipped over.
    Tito and Lopez set the prisoner upright again. “Goddamn,” Tito said, “she’s really out.” He patted her cheeks—a strangely gentle thing to do, under the circumstances.
    The Captain ordered Lopez to bring water. Lopez returned a moment later with two large bottles of Perrier water, as if he were making a joke. He shook one of the bottles and held his thumb over the opening, spraying the woman from head to foot.
    “Makes it worse,” the Captain explained. “The minerals are more conductive.”
    Lopez shook the bottle again and sprayed her until it was empty. When she was fully conscious again, the Captain turned on the machine. Every muscle in her body stood out like a rope, and once more she made that terrible sound.
    “Third time, you really let them have it. Turn it up to four, maybe even five if they are strong enough. Give them maybe two minutes.”
    This time it took ten minutes to revive her. “Next session I will give her less and we will have the doctor on hand. It’s always hard to