Madame Xan

1. Top Gun.
1968

Ford stared sadly at the bars of the small cell that was now his home and had been for the past twenty-four hours. Everything had changed so quickly, altered so dramatically that he found it difficult to believe that just a short time ago he had been on the aircraft carrier Fortitude.

Once he had been a Top Gun, cocky and so sure of himself, but now, after being unceremoniously captured by the small men in the brown uniforms, he was worried and afraid – very afraid. The brash bravado of the fighter pilot had rapidly vanished, leaving him alone, nervous and becoming increasingly frightened with every passing moment.

Just a few days ago, his life had been so calm and ordered and he had been so sure of everything – so confident and in control!

His mind wandered back two days when he had snapped off a salute as he marched into the Colonel’s office.

‘Take a seat, Ford,’ the colonel said after returning the salute and, tucking his cap under his arm, Ford sat stiffly, careful not to destroy the razor sharp creases in his trousers.

Colonel Harrison was a tall man but then again, as Ford was rather short – most fighter pilots are – Harrison appeared even taller.

Being short was an advantage when it came to flying. A lot of technology is crammed into those new supersonic babies and there’s not a lot of room for pilots. Sometime ago, it was decided that it would be best to include a physical specification in the statistics for new recruits – they had to be short!

And Ford was – standing five foot three and a half inches in his bare feet but, he was a hell of a pilot! In fact, he had often boasted loudly to anyone that would listen that he was Top Gun!

‘You’ve seen the mission details, Ford?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Get in low, get the data and get out – fast! Is that understood?’

‘Absolutely, sir.’

‘As you know,’ Harrison said warningly, ‘we’re not at war with them – yet! But there has been incidents,’ he added darkly, ‘they’ve fired at us before!’

Harrison sounded irritated that they would have the temerity to fire at them! He conveniently happened to forget the secret strikes they had launched against the country under Presidential orders.

‘They may fire again so take it easy!’

‘Understood, sir.’

Harrison smiled.

‘You’re a good man, Ford. Good luck.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Ford said with a broad grin, ‘but I don’t think I’ll need luck!’

‘A bit of luck doesn’t go astray, Ford, remember that.’

The aircraft carrier got as close to landfall as possible before Ford shot into the clear blue sky and guided the powerful jet towards his goal.

He came in low, dodging radar and hugging the ground so it would be difficult for the slow planes of the opposition to see him.

They weren’t at war – yet!

But Ford remembered Colonel Harrison’s words.

Relations between Ford’s country and the expansive Asian nation had become frosty of late and the Military insisted on twenty four by seven surveillance.

There was always some general who got a kick out of sending a plane in. Of course, all of these flights were completely unofficial and every pilot was at risk.

It was a standard joke among the pilots that it was the Generals only way to relive their past – their glory days.

It certainly wasn’t a day of glory for Ford!

The missile came out of nowhere and he wondered if his radar and warning systems were inoperable. It had happened before but he had been assured his ‘plane had been in perfect condition!

If that was the case, why didn’t he see the missile until it was on him?

The wing exploded and the controls suddenly felt like a heavy anvil.

Ford had to eject and watched his jet spiral down in to rice fields as his parachute jerked open.

As he watched the ground rushing up, Ford wondered what his options were – crashing in one of the largest countries on earth and he didn’t speak the language!

This would be the end of Ford Manilow!

He heard the trucks as he pulled the parachute harness from his shoulders. Trucks meant soldiers and then he heard distant voices calling and shouting in their Asian language.

He thought of running but where would he run? This was the largest country on earth and he didn’t speak the language!

There was no point in fighting; his only hope was that the U.S. government would, somehow, negotiate his release.

Ford raised his hands in surrender and was captured easily.

And so, he now nervously stared at the bars, his imagination creating wicked scenarios which contributed to the fear that was now threatening to overwhelm him.

From what Ford could tell, he was the only westerner in the prison and the only inmate who had a cell to himself. The other prisoners were crammed into larger cells opposite Ford.

After an hour, three guards had entered the cell and through sign language had told him to remove his flying suit. They watched him silently as he removed the clothes and they even insisted his underwear be removed until he stood naked and shivering.

They gave him a light brown coloured top, trousers and dark brown sandals which he grateful pulled on to escape their watching eyes.

The clothes were soft and loose, rather like pyjamas and, even though wearing them was a little better than remaining naked, the fact he wasn’t wearing underwear made him feel vulnerable.

Of course, they didn’t say anything, just walked out and locked the cell behind them, leaving Ford to ponder his fate.

Moodily, he stared out through the bars and wondered what would happen. The country did not have diplomatic relations with America so he guessed he was in for a long wait until authorities managed to release him from the clutches of his captors.

A sudden thought chilled him.

What if the U.S. Government just quietly washed their hands of him?

Just left him to rot?

Could they do that?

Would they do that?

Ford knew that anything was possible and, yes, they could certainly do that!

A cold feeling washed over him as Ford realised he was very expendable indeed.

A bowl of rice and something Ford didn’t want to try to identify was shoved through the bars and he ate while huddled on the floor.

It was going to be a long night and the bucket in the corner was his only toilet.

It was going to be a very long night as Ford was left alone with his growing fear.

A clanging bell woke Ford while it was still dark and he watched as guards opened the other cells and marshalled the prisoners out.

They obviously had done it so many times before as the prisoners silently lined up and some looked at him as they marched past.

The prison was ominously silent and Ford stood next to the bars and stared out as he heard footsteps.

The scratch of a match and a sudden flare of light made Ford turn his head to the right and he saw a man in a khaki uniform and cap lighting a cigarette.

The uniform had gold buttons, a red band around the peaked military cap, it’s black brim shining and there were red squares on his collars. Ford assumed they were an indication of rank or perhaps the division in which his visitor was serving.

Obviously a senior officer, Ford thought.

‘Good morning, Captain, he said in heavily accented English with a small cold smile. ‘I hope you found the accommodation satisfactory?’

Ford said nothing and waited.

‘There is no need to be discourteous, Captain Manilow,’ the man said, exhaling smoke. ‘The American government denies your existence so you will be our guest for very long time. Politenesses and courtesy is very important in our country and it is important that both qualities be observed.’

‘I’m not required to do anything,’ Ford said defiantly, ‘except give you my name, rank…’

‘That is not necessary, Captain,’ he cut in, eyes cold, ‘our countries are not at war so the Geneva Convention does not apply. You are a spy!’

Ford blinked and waited, heart pounding.

‘I will give you a simple choice, Captain Manilow, you can share with us all the information we require and you will be moved to more gracious accommodation. We are very interested in the workings of your aircraft.’

‘I do not have to tell you anything!’

‘You are quite correct, Captain Manilow, you do not have to tell us anything!’

Ford watched the officer’s eyes and suddenly felt a chill.

‘However, you will beg to tell us everything! You will plead for us to listen to you once I have introduced you to Madame Xan!’

The calm way that the Asian man informed Ford of his future struck fear in the American officer and he blinked.

Torture!

He had thought about it, of course, but had pushed it to the back of his mind. Now, he was faced with the reality of it.

‘Torture?’ Manilow asked, despite himself and the Asian officer laughed.

‘How quaint,’ he smiled. ‘You are the barbarians, Captain Manilow, when our civilisation began, your people were still in caves! We are sophisticated with a long tradition of, how shall I say it, persuasion? No, you will tell us, Captain, it will only be a matter of time.’ (First Published 2006)

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