Chapter Two

Interrogation

“Strip,” was the command. It came from a small, compact and very fit looking young woman who stood in front of both Americans. She was dressed in heavy black mountaineering boots, black stretch tights that fit like a second skin, and a short black leather motorcycle jacket that reached just below the waist. Under the jacket was a white ribbed turtleneck jersey, equally as tight as the leggings. Her waist was belted with a wide black and studded black belt, giving her an excellent hour-glass figure complimented by high, well separated and pointed breasts that thrust the jersey and jacket towards the two men with typical Swiss arrogance. She had dark brown eyes, a patrician nose with a slight upturn at the end, and a tight, thin-lipped mouth that did not smile very often. Bill thought she was probably in her mid thirties but found her attractive in a dominant sort of way. Her dark brown hair was cut short in the type haircut that Bill often called a ‘butch buzz’: clipped close in the back and cropped off the same length all around just below the ear. She wore no makeup except for heavy black eye liner; but both men, if asked, would have said she was very attractive. On the broad, silver-studded black leather belt were three pouches, two on the right and one on the left.

Five people stood in the windowless white room illuminated by dozens of the bright, cool, green florescent lamps typically found in many European institutions. The overhead lights gave the room a slightly sinister glow because they were not as bright or as close to sunlight as florescent lights were in the U.S. The only furniture was a tall, stainless steel floor-to-ceiling cabinet against one wall and two white enamel gurneys covered with white hospital sheets on the opposite wall.

Noting the polished steel rings mounted on the floor and walls, Gus and Bill looked at each other in astonishment. Gus began to protest, “You can’t do this. We have some rights. We didn’t rob the bank, and we want to contact the American Embassy at once. We were pass...uhg, uh...” He stumbled and fell to the white tile floor as a stun baton, pressed into his ribs from behind, sent a strong electrical charge through his body. One of the guards had reached forward and stuck the baton into his ribs. The force of the charge sent him to his knees.

“Strip. Now,” barked the woman in black, as her left hand moved to open the longest of her belt packs and remove a similar short baton which she extended towards Bill, pressing a button on the base. The four-inch stub of a handle sprung to life and became a tapered silver wand nearly two fee