Casper Johnson had definitely been in better situations. Hanging upside down, chained to the ceiling by his ankles and to the floor by his wrists, he pondered his position. A bar ran from wrist to wrist keeping his hands apart prevented any possibility of picking the locks. He also had everything of use to him removed those many days ago. Nourishment was anything he could eat with his mouth off a plate provided twice a day.
The room was brick on three walls and barred on the fourth. The lack of windows further deepened the gloom which persisted throughout the whole prison. The heat of the day never penetrated to the level at which he was incarcerated. Dampness hung in the air and clogged the lungs. The daily hose baths did little to hold down the moisture.
Escape, this time, seem out of reach. Twice he had shook of the restraints and made it beyond the walls that encircle the complex. And twice they returned him to the crumbling building and further restrained him.
A smile flashed on his face as he remember that three times is supposed to be the charm. We'll see, he thought. We'll see.
He thoughts were shattered as the doors clanged open down the hall and feet marched towards his cell. Casper tried to swing his body around to view the barred door but he spun use¬lessly in a circle only getting glimpses of the door. As he swung around for the fourth time he saw several men stationed at the door. They spoke rapidly to each other and a key was in¬serted in the lock.
His back was facing the door when they grabbed him and slipped a bag over his head. They unlocked the chains attached to the floor. He tried to move but they held him immoble and removed the chains from his ankles. Nothing kept him from fall¬ing and Casper uncerimoniously hit the floor.
Blood, that had collected into his arms, rushed into his legs throwing mobility out the window. The guards dragged him out of the cell by the chains attached to his arms and down the hallway. Casper noted that the bar welded to his braclets kept him from being dragged flat down the hallway. His left hand scrapped the floor while the right hand streatched into the air and occasionally banged into the wall.
After what seemed like ages Casper was dumped into a room and left. He laid on his back and slowly worked his legs. In time they responed and moved accordingly. As he tried to get up someone spoke.
"I'm glad they didn't kill you. When they brought you in I was sure you were dead." The voice was thick in accent and remained stationary.
Muffled underneath the bag, Casper responded. "The diet farms I've been through have treated me worse." He was standing now trying to orient on the voice.
"Please have a seat Mr. Sanders."
Casper was grabbed firmly by the shoulders and a chair pressed against his thighs. The chais that dangled from his wrists were wrapped underneath the chair and locked to the floor.
The bag was removed from Casper's head and blood spots danced in front of his eyes. A uniformed man sat behind a desk in front of Casper. The man doubled and the room spun, Casper blinked and shook his head. The room returned to normal yet there were still two desks and men behind them.
Both of them had angular jaws and deep lines etched into the leathery skin that hung thickly on their faces. The black hair was broken with grayish tinges yet not a hair was out of place. Their voices tried to convey sympathy but their eyes targeted like guns.
"I am sorry for the harsh treatment Mr. Sanders but you have been a most frustrating guest. We do not allow unaccompanied excursions of the area."
Casper didn't know which figure to talk to so he looked straight ahead. "Since when have you offered me an excursion of your beautiful complex." Slowly the two men merged into one.
"Mr. Sanders let's not play games. You were caught three weeks ago in a secured area, photographing top secret information. Information is scarce on you. It says here," He held up Casper's passport. "that you entered our beautiful country on the 5th of this month. That is three days after our borders were closed to all unnecessary traffic. You are listed as a business consultant for a company that folded two years ago. And born in a town that's never existed. Therefore your name is definitely not Carl Sanders. So who are you?"
Casper knew the game was yet to be played and he answered accordingly. "You already know who I am or so you think. Why don't you tell me and I'll let you know if you're right."
The man sighed. "Mr. Sanders, the punishment is severe for those who do not follow the rules. I'll ask you one more time, who are you."
Casper quickly went through his options. Fall back on his next alias and see if that holds up, but from the looks of the holes in Sanders life not a good choice. Lie, yet that would probably hold water as well as his alias. That left the truth.
"My name is Casper Johnson."
The man looked skeptical, "And who do you work for?"
Might as well give them what they want to hear, even though that won't be the truth, Casper thought. "I work for the United States Government."
"Mr. Johnson, if that is your name, you are formally charged with subversion and espionage against the people and the government of Nicaragua. Your trial date has been set for next week and it is there that you will be tried so that the world can see that unprovoked aggression by the United States continues still."
"You guys are gonna run this propaganda stuff to the full hilt aren't ya. You already alienated half the world by executing the last one, don't think another one won't have an effect."
"Mr. Johnson, reactions have a tendency to fade as the shock value wares off. Besides there are other ways to deal with spies." He motioned with his hand and the interview was over.
Abruptly the bag was thrown over his head and the chair was ripped out from under him. Instead of being dragged Casper stumbled down the hallway. He had to stay sideways and move forward at the same time due to the bar. And for a man that hadn't walked in several weeks he did a fairly good job at it.
