A groan unconsciously escaped from his mouth. His head hurt like hell. He was lying on his side on a carpeted floor. He could feel that much. Someone kicked him in the stomach. He groaned again, and the men around him laughed. Behind his back, his hands were numb from the tight cord around his wrist.

The carpet pressed against his cheek. It smelled of some exotic perfume and dirt. The floor vibrated in a way that floors don’t ordinarily do.

His head was splitting, but he managed to will one eyelid apart. The eye fluttered open enough to see several pairs of sandaled feet. His right eye wouldn’t open. It was enough to see he was in an elevator.

No one spoke or mercifully kicked him again, so he closed his eye and waited. It was a short wait. The elevator dinged at their arrival, and the double elevator doors retracted into the wall before him. On the other side were a pair of black loafers and black cotton pants.

The man in black crouched down, dropped his head so Mike could see him, and smiled.

Mike grunted. “Shit,” he whispered.

Baabaa Hotak reached down, lifted Mike’s head, and put a thumb on his right eye. Hotak yanked the eyelid up. Dry blood pulled the eyelashes shut but couldn’t stop the motion.

Hotak’s smile remained fixed as he dropped Mike’s head to the carpet. He turned and walked down the hall and into his office. Over his shoulder, he said. “Bring them.”

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Two men dragged him face down across the floor. Mike lifted his head, but a hand pushed it back down, causing him to grunt in pain. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see brown sandals and the cuffs of the pants of the two men carrying him. It was easier to stare down at the Persian rug, than a tile floor, and then another Persian rug. Wherever they were, it was a large room full of expensive carpets.

A chair appeared, and the men holding him slammed him into the seat. He saw more stars than he ever thought existed. They yanked his tied-up wrists over the seat back and secured them to the frame. He glanced left. Julia was in the same condition as him, tied to a chair. The one difference was she was unconscious. An Afghani pulled a black cloth bag over her head. Another guard roughly tugged a bag over his head.

This was going to get far worse before it got better. He tested the rope around his wrists. One of the guards hit him in the ear, jerking his head to the side.

Mike pressed his teeth together. “You fuck!”

The guard hit him again, rocking his body. He let his head drop. He shut his eyes tight to try and quiet the pain in his head. He had a brutal headache, his face hurt, and the back of his head hurt, but worse, his pride hurt. He'd lost a fight with these ignorant assholes.

The Afghanis spoke amongst themselves and laughed at him. One of them pushed Mike’s head to the side, causing the pain in his head to explode a new. They spoke for a moment more, laughed again, and left. The sound of their footsteps moved out of earshot. He couldn't see a damn thing under the bag on his head, but it sounded like he and Julia were the only ones in the room.

Maybe it was an excellent time to let go and pass out.