A Game for Assassins

Here’s an extract from James Quinns’ A Game for Assassins – check it out.

A short scene from the new spy thriller – A Game For Assassins – that introduces the anti-hero/spy Jack “Gorilla” Grant.

Gioradze snorted. “Fuck you. Torture me all you want. You think this is the first time I’ve been tied to a chair and tortured.”

“Probably not,” said Gorilla. “But this isn’t the first time I’ve tied someone to a chair and interrogated them either, so on that score we are equal.” He was thinking of his time spent with the forger in Belgium. But the one thing that Gorilla was positive of was that, unlike the forger, this killer would not be walking away safely and with a suitcase full of cash.

In his role as faux KGB interrogator Gorilla had decided to use that oldest and most dangerous of tactics first; honesty. Honesty to the subject, honesty about his potential fate, honesty leaves the subject with no place to hide and no manoeuvring room. It spells it out for him in stark detail. You are here. I am here. These are the facts.

“I won’t tell you a thing you Russian pig,” said Gioradze, as the anger started to rise in him.

Gorilla frowned. “Oh, I believe that you believe that. But there is one thing that I can tell you from experience and that is everyone talks, everyone has a breaking point. You just have to find the correct leverage. For some its pain, some people can’t handle pain. However, in your case I think that you are such a tough man that you could withstand it, of that I have no doubt.”

The Georgian was breathing heavily now, gulping in a huge lungful of air, mentally bracing himself for what was about to come.

“Some people fear the danger that their loved ones might be targeted, but again not applicable in your case,” Gorilla continued.

Gioradze snorted with derision as if the thought of using another human being as leverage over him would have succeeded.

Gorilla knelt down so they were face to face. “What I think is that in your case it’s simple. It’s Biology. It’s your own body. You are wounded, tired, under stress, so you’re already weak, maybe even compliant, although you would never admit that. No, the one thing that is going to let you down here is your own body.”

Gioradze looked down at his mangled legs. For the first time the stunning realisation that he was in pain, in a foreign country, isolated and about to be interrogated by a Russian operative, hit him.

“And you really don’t remember me?” asked Gorilla, looking the man in the eye.

Gioradze shook his head violently. “I fucking told you – No!”

Gorilla brought his face closer so that they almost touched, nose to nose, and then whispered through gritted teeth. “Well, I’m the “hitter” from Marseilles. I’m back to haunt you, and you don’t look pleased to see me at all you miserable son-of-a-bitch!”

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