"Энди Макнаб. Немедленная операция (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

I looked at the cheese sandwich. They could hardly punish me by putting
me in a worse stress position than they had already. They might drag me out
and be a bit rough with me, but so what? At least I'd have a cheese sandwich
and a mug of coffee down my neck.
I couldn't see any steam coming off the coffee, so I knew it was fairly
warm and I'd be able to gulp it down.
Anyway, it was in a metal mug, and they tend to cool it down quicker.
So I thought: Fucking right.
I lunged forward and grabbed the food and drink.
The boy recoiled. Guards came bursting in, but they were too late to
stop my feast. They blindfolded me and held me down.
The young guy, still being my mate, said, "Did you enjoy that?"
"I cannot answer that question."
I went into the next interrogation. It was the same routine, being
picked up from the stress position, and by now I was really looking forward
to interrogations because it was so painful against the wall or on the
floor. It was the same two interrogators I had the very first time.
"You're a dickhead," they said. "We gave you the chance to help us; now
you're going to pay for it. Get your clothes off."
I undressed.
"What's your number?"
"Two-four-four-zero-eight-eight-eight-eight."
"Right, now say it slowly.l I did, and I had to do it again.
Because of the training I knew to play on the injuries, looking like I
was knackered, all that sort of stuff. I repeated my number for what seemed
like hours, really slowly. Great, I thought; it took up more time, I was in
a better atmosphere, rather than in a stress position in the holding area,
and I wasn't being moved around every five minutes by the guards.
Then I was told to jump up and down on my toes, which was even better
because I started to get warm.
They said, "We've had enough of you, you fucking idiot."
They walked out, and two women walked in. One was in ' her late
twenties and looked very prim and proper in glasses. The other, who was in
her forties, was wearing jeans.
"Take off your pants," they said.
I took them off.
"That's a bit small, isn't it?" The older woman laughed. "What are you
going to do with that? Is that why you're a big, rough, tough soldier, to
cover up your inadequacies? My little finger's bigger than that. Not going
to impress many girls with that, are you?"
She turned to the younger one and said, "Would you do anything with
that?"
"With what? I can't even see anything."
They were trying to find a chink in my personal armor, but as far as I
was concerned, everything they were saying was fair comment.
After all, it was freezing cold in the room; in the circumstances, even
Errol. Flynn wouldn't have been looking his best.
I guessed everybody W'as learning about his own personality, his own
strengths, his own weaknesses. I was certainly learning about mine. I had no
trouble with the insults and abuse, but some people were starting to trip.