'Get your filthy hands off me...' Lucy shouted
as two of the Internal Security officers
manning the road block dragged her from the battered hire car. The two
officers had grabbed her companion Samantha and thrown
her to the ground and one of them had his fingers digging into her
throat so all she could manage was a feeble, strangled gasping noise as
she threshed around on the dusty track.
Minutes later they were gagged and hooded, hands tied behind
their back and in the back of a truck heading back into the city. The
hire car was a distant plume of reddish dust in the opposite direction.
The normal sounds of urban life slowly returned and people emerged from
houses and shacks as the sound of the vehicles faded. No one looked,
no-one commented; they had learned from bitter experience that it was
healthier if such things were simply not noticed.
The two of them had only met two days before on the flight from London.
Nineteen year old Samantha, blonde, pretty and foolishly unaware of just
how dangerous this part of the world could be for someone of her age was a
young graduate starting her career with the foreign office.
Lucy had been working for the government for 10 years since leaving school,
a fast track degree course and Sandhurst and now at 28 she was one of the
youngest field operating intelligence agents still operating in theatre.
She'd told her new colleague about the dangers she faced
every day. Samantha had listened politely, but as someone used to a
generally law-abiding society, she simply couldn't believe what she was
being told about the corruption and sadistic brutality of the regime.
Jenny had tried so hard; she had even told her about how the security
forces routinely tortured detainees, using electric shocks on the
genitals, especially where a woman was being questioned.
Sam was simply to work in the Embassy so would not be in danger at any point.
She only understood on Tuesday morning when she went with Lucy to her
office, or what remained of it. Both dressed smartly for a day at the consulate….jacket, skirt, tights…..There'd been a panicky brief and
anonymous call to say they were being raided...then nothing. When they
got there all that remained of the building was a blackened shell;
inside there was nothing but a mass of ash and charred timbers a
blizzard of scraps of burned paper swirled around in the wind. The
jostling crowd was being kept back by a heavy police presence, each
constable using his long cane enthusiastically and indiscriminately on
anyone within range.
An old man appeared at Lucy's open window and the two of them had a
rapid muttered conversation, money changed hands and he disappeared into
the seething crowd. 'Jumo's our caretaker. He was next door when the
raid took place. He's taking a risk talking with the police there... it
was those Internal Security bastards. He said it was me they really
wanted...'
They had left town quickly and that is when they had run into the roadblock.
They were3 ushered out and bags were searched, threats were made and inevitably the guards groped them a bit making sure they touched their breasts through their clothes when they were moving them about.
Lucy was not unduly concerned until the field telephone rang and once the capt of the guards had answered it he became stern and rough and now they found themselves hooded and bound heading back into town.
as two of the Internal Security officers
manning the road block dragged her from the battered hire car. The two
officers had grabbed her companion Samantha and thrown
her to the ground and one of them had his fingers digging into her
throat so all she could manage was a feeble, strangled gasping noise as
she threshed around on the dusty track.
Minutes later they were gagged and hooded, hands tied behind
their back and in the back of a truck heading back into the city. The
hire car was a distant plume of reddish dust in the opposite direction.
The normal sounds of urban life slowly returned and people emerged from
houses and shacks as the sound of the vehicles faded. No one looked,
no-one commented; they had learned from bitter experience that it was
healthier if such things were simply not noticed.
The two of them had only met two days before on the flight from London.
Nineteen year old Samantha, blonde, pretty and foolishly unaware of just
how dangerous this part of the world could be for someone of her age was a
young graduate starting her career with the foreign office.
Lucy had been working for the government for 10 years since leaving school,
a fast track degree course and Sandhurst and now at 28 she was one of the
youngest field operating intelligence agents still operating in theatre.
She'd told her new colleague about the dangers she faced
every day. Samantha had listened politely, but as someone used to a
generally law-abiding society, she simply couldn't believe what she was
being told about the corruption and sadistic brutality of the regime.
Jenny had tried so hard; she had even told her about how the security
forces routinely tortured detainees, using electric shocks on the
genitals, especially where a woman was being questioned.
Sam was simply to work in the Embassy so would not be in danger at any point.
She only understood on Tuesday morning when she went with Lucy to her
office, or what remained of it. Both dressed smartly for a day at the consulate….jacket, skirt, tights…..There'd been a panicky brief and
anonymous call to say they were being raided...then nothing. When they
got there all that remained of the building was a blackened shell;
inside there was nothing but a mass of ash and charred timbers a
blizzard of scraps of burned paper swirled around in the wind. The
jostling crowd was being kept back by a heavy police presence, each
constable using his long cane enthusiastically and indiscriminately on
anyone within range.
An old man appeared at Lucy's open window and the two of them had a
rapid muttered conversation, money changed hands and he disappeared into
the seething crowd. 'Jumo's our caretaker. He was next door when the
raid took place. He's taking a risk talking with the police there... it
was those Internal Security bastards. He said it was me they really
wanted...'
They had left town quickly and that is when they had run into the roadblock.
They were3 ushered out and bags were searched, threats were made and inevitably the guards groped them a bit making sure they touched their breasts through their clothes when they were moving them about.
Lucy was not unduly concerned until the field telephone rang and once the capt of the guards had answered it he became stern and rough and now they found themselves hooded and bound heading back into town.
