The Easy Day Was Yesterday Read Online Free Page A

hole and I heard the steel lid sound again. I was able to spin around and sit in a tight ball, but when I lifted my head, I hit the steel lid. As I raised my eyes, I could see the shadows of my guards looking down at me and the steel grate trapping me in this hole. Then someone called down to me, ‘I want the names of the men in your patrol. You would be well advised to give them to me. When you do, I will let you out. Do you understand me?’
    ‘Jordan, Lance Corporal … ah fuck,’ I mumbled as a torrent of water smashed into me. I must have been sitting under a hydrant or something, as the pressure was intense. I dropped my head and took the jet in the back of my neck. I concentrated on each breath, as the pillowcase quickly become drenched, making it difficult to breathe. Then I thought of that boiling hot meal I had a few hours ago and how I had wiped my hands on the pillowcase and it occurred to me that this water would wash away those stains. Bizarre, but this was enough to make me laugh. I thought this situation was pretty hilarious, but my laughing stopped when I noticed that the water was getting pretty bloody high now. The top of the water was touching my chin and I thought they’d have to turn it off soon. I looked up at them as my interrogator yelled, ‘Well?’ Give me the names, Jordan!’
    I couldn’t be arsed with the spiel, so I said nothing and the water kept coming. Now it was so high that I had to push my mouth up through the grate to get some air. Every part of me was under water except my pillowcase-covered mouth. I could see the silhouette of the interrogator looking down on me. He was probably yelling, but my ears were under water and the noise of the water jet smashing into my forehead ensured that I couldn’t hear a thing. Just as my neck muscles started to protest at the strain, the hydrant was turned off and the water started to subside. The grate was removed and my trusty guards dragged me out so fast I nearly left my pyjama bottoms in the pit.
    Eventually, after 72 hours, the same guys who took us hostage rescued us and it was all over. One person had failed this phase, but the rest of us passed and moved onto the next course in the selection process. The best thing about the interrogation process was that it set a new benchmark for doing it tough and, for the rest of my time in the SAS, it would remain an unbeatable benchmark. If I could survive the interrogation phase, I could pretty much do anything.
    So now this ugly, old, angry prick is going to have to try harder if he thinks I’m going to play his game. Obviously he doesn’t know that abuse is the easiest form of interrogation to reject. However, the previous stuff with the SAS was training and the reality was that they weren’t going to kill me, although they seemed to want to at the time. But this was real and I needed to get my game head on and get out. I noted the sheepish man to the left of the angry man trying to calm him and wasn’t happy when words like ‘terrorist’ and ‘mother fucker’ were used and he certainly didn’t like it when I was called a ‘cunt’.
    Again the angry man pushed his recording device in my face and demanded to know if I had my passport on me. I turned my head and ignored him. He yelled something in Hindi and told me I’d committed a terrible criminal offence, and then they left the room to discuss the matter.
    ‘Ujjwal, hide all your money,’ I said as I fumbled through my pack to hide my passport and money.
    ‘Paul, maybe we should run for it,’ Uhwal suggested with a note of concern in his voice.
    ‘There are too many cops around, mate. If one of us gets caught, we are both done. Besides, we haven’t actually done anything wrong.’
    Then a local man entered the room. He told Ujwal that this had happened before and he should just pay the immigration officer 500 rupees each and we’d both be released. I knew it. The yelling was designed to force the price up a bit, but I’d pay