When We Met

CH 23 Logan

"You sent for us, father?" I stated flatly as Noah and I entered the dimly lit study where Charles Walsh sat nursing a glass of aged bourbon.

He didn't look up from the maps and dossiers strewn across the antique oak desk, but I could sense the undercurrent of festering impatience radiating from him like a miasma. After a moment's tense silence, he stabbed a meaty finger down onto one of the open files.

"This has gone on long enough. Alejandro and Matias have been given ample opportunity to talk, but they insist on defiantly protecting that she-devil Yelena we need to know where that heir is and they are the ones that would know from how close they were with the Fernandes don." He shot me and my brother a sidelong look through narrowed eyes. "It's time we...motivated them to loosen those insolent tongues of theirs."

I felt my jaw tighten instinctively at the implications carried in his tone but gave a measured nod. "I take it the usual methods have been exhausted?" My brother says.

A mirthless snort escaped my father's lips as he drained his glass and reached for the crystal decanter. "Those thick-skulled fools have endured everything from electrocution to acid baths to good old-fashioned Chinese water torture. Yet they defiantly cling to their misplaced loyalty like goddamned heroes."

Something in his gruff admiration for their resistance made me bristle in a way I couldn't fully articulate. As if praising their fortitude in the face of our depravities was an insult to the sanctity of familial allegiance.

"Perhaps it's time to...escalate the interrogation tactics," Noah said carefully, tamping down the flare of inexplicable protectiveness that Morgan's veiled threats triggered within me. "If they truly won't respond to physical compulsion, then we alter their mindsets through chemical means."

An appreciative glint flickered behind Charles's dark gaze as he swirled the refreshed amber liquid. "You're suggesting your customised psychotropics? The ones that can unmake even the most rigorously conditioned psyches?"

I gave a grim nod. "Among other...persuasive motivators." My hand strayed to the worn leather holster riding my hip, feeling the cold weight of the SIG Sauer nestled within. "Sometimes a well-placed bullet is the most compelling argument of all."

Charles barked out a single harsh laugh as he rose from behind the desk with an approving grunt. "That's what I like to hear - ruthless practicality. No matter how much you may empathise with their misguided convictions."

His words felt like a rebuke, laying bare the truth nestled behind my posturing and bravado. Some perverse sliver of camaraderie had taken root for these two prisoners, these caged specimens who had thus far endured the worst humanity could inflict with unshakable dignity and integrity.

But that weakness would not be permitted to fester, overshadowing the mission and obligations to family that had been drilled into me since birth. Squaring my shoulders, I met my father's gaze with a newfound resolution burning through the uncertainty.

"Leave it to me. I'll break them both until we get what we need." The words tasted of ashes on my tongue, but the fire of determination raged ever hotter within. "Then you and Hector can proceed with the next phase once the girl's location is confirmed."

A flicker of paternal pride ghosted across Charles's craggy features before melting away into his customary hardened mask once more.

"Glad to see your nerves have re-solidified. Steeled yourself to do what must be done without sentiment or failure." He jerked a chin towards the reinforced door, already turning his focus to the maps and plans awaiting him. "Get to it then. I expect progress expediently...by whatever means prove necessary."