The doctor picked up a bottle. “I doubt that. This is going to hurt quite a bit.”
Pure hellfire rained on his back and Jesse let out a shout. Alcohol. The bastard poured alcohol on his open wounds. The pain nearly made him faint. He saw the edges of his peripheral vision begin to fade.
That was it. Play possum. Look weak.
He let his whole body go limp and knew the next few moments would be some of the worst of his life, but he would get through them. When the second assault came, he somehow managed to stay still.
He heard the door open, heard that horrible voice again. “He is well?”
The doctor sighed. “He passed out. I suppose the pain was too much.”
It was hell to keep his eyes closed. It went against every instinct he possessed. He needed to see, needed to fight. But he remained still.
Patience. Breathe in. Breathe out. Wait for the moment.
He heard Big Tag’s voice and then Simon’s.
Have faith. Wait for your team. We won’t let you down.
But mostly he heard her voice.
I love you.
He beat the panic back by concentrating on those voices. Slowly, the fire across his skin settled to a low but manageable ache.
“Your brother can’t be happy with you,” the doctor said. “I’m going to need to stitch a couple of these.”
“Do what you need to do. I want him healthy.” Jesse felt the man move, place his hand on Jesse’s ankle. It made his skin crawl. “When I break him, he will be my masterpiece, my proof that righteous will bends all to the truth.”
Now he was going to vomit. Asshole. His greatest enemy was right there. He could kill the Caliph, but would probably die in the process. At one point in time, he would have done it. It would have been worth it. He would have traded his life for even one shot at revenge, but that time had passed. He would trade all the revenge in the world for one shot at a life with Phoebe.
“As for my brother, I believe his usefulness is coming to an end. He’s too close to the truth, and he would undo everything I’ve done. I caught him in my office. I think he suspects I’m working with the senator.”
That was interesting. He needed to hold on to that little tidbit.
“You should dose him before you continue,” al Fareed said. “I wouldn’t want him to damage himself. That’s my job.”
The doctor sighed. “Fine, but I have my own experiments. I want a couple of my own subjects. Are you sure you can’t capture his friends? I saw the red-haired woman. I would love to spend some time taking the arrogance out of her.”
Erin. He was a bastard because he was relieved they weren’t talking about Phoebe, but he would be damned if he would let them take Erin either. He couldn’t watch another team member die.
He heard the door open. “They’re gone. Their plane took off a few hours ago. The Agency themselves verified it. He’s alone. I have no doubt that Smith fellow will look, but this time I’ll be ready for him. I’ll send him back to the States in pieces. Perhaps I’ll send parts of him to newspapers. That would create some chaos. I think I’ll start with the New York Times.” He laughed, a truly nasty sound. “It’s going to be a new world. With Ibrahim gone, I won’t need to hide any longer. Get him ready to go. I want to leave as soon as possible.”
The door closed and once again he did not hear a lock.
They were getting complacent.
“So your friends have all abandoned you. Poor boy. And you don’t need painkillers. He’s being too indulgent with you.”
Pain flared as the doctor started to sew the places where the whip had opened his flesh. This time Jesse welcomed it. He even gave the fucker a good groan.
He opened his eyes. The scissors were there, waiting to be used. They weren’t terrifically sharp, but they would do.
He heard the sound of something rattling floors below.
The doctor stopped and turned to the door.
Jesse moved, forcing his body to work. He ignored the pain, ignored the fear. He focused. The scissors were in his hand and in one smooth move, he planted them in the doctor’s neck. He never gave the man a chance to scream. With aching arms, he held the doctor tight until the scissors had done their job and he went limp.
Think. Think. Adrenaline rushed through him, making it easier to focus. The doctor had a gun. Jesse pulled it from the holster on his waist. He couldn’t make too much noise, but he would use it if he had to.
The hypodermic needle was much quieter, though it could only be used once.
He glanced out the window. Too far up. He couldn’t jump and there wasn’t enough roof to land on. But he could see the ocean. If he was on the ocean, he couldn’t be far from others. Al Fareed had said he was going to the conference. That meant they were still in Dubai, and it was a well-populated city. He had a shot.