Thursday, November 12, 2026

Everybody Talks ...

DoD Photo
Hamza awakened, or at least he thought he was awake. He was restrained in a sitting position. He could move a little bit but doing so caused some pain. The straps holding him down were very tight.

He couldn't see anything, yet his eyes, as far as he could tell, were not covered. The same went for his hearing, he could hear nothing at all, even though he was sure there was nothing obstructing either ear. He thought to make a sound, then realized that whoever was holding him was also probably listening, he didn't want them to know that he was awake.

He tried to remember how he got here, wherever "here" was. He was groggy and he realized that he'd been drugged. Then bits of memory had began to return. The car slowly pulling off the motorway, steam issuing from under the bonnet, Kishiev looking at the dash, then at the road, confused and trying to figure out if they were in any danger.

Aliev in the back was asking what was happening, Hamza had awakened him moments before something struck their vehicle. Aliev was still half asleep but was alert enough to see something moving outside the vehicle.

The man had muttered "What the Hell ..." in Chechen just before the back passenger window nearest the side of the road shattered and Aliev's head snapped to the right as a nine millimeter slug tore through his brain.

Before Hamza could react, Kishiev's window also shattered and the driver's head had bounced off the steering wheel as a slug from the same weapon had hit him in the back of the head. Both of his Chechen bodyguards were down, obviously dead.

Hamza remembered wishing that he was armed, but then a pair of strong hands had reached through his own, now shattered, window. He turned in time to see the syringe stab into his bicep, he felt the sharp sting of the needle, then he felt nothing.

Until he had awakened, restrained, and apparently blind and deaf. For one of the few times in his life, Ditmir Hamza felt fear, absolute, all-encompassing fear.


Wolf turned from the monitor and addressed MacDonald, "With the drugs we've put into him and his current situation, he'll be ready to talk soon."

"What makes you so sure, Mr. Wolf?"

"He's completely restrained, uncomfortably so I might add, he's seen the two people he relied on to keep him safe violently killed right in front of him, he's been snatched out of his vehicle, drugged, and we've made sure that the room he's in has no light and is totally soundproofed."

"What did you give him?" Gordon asked.

"It's a form of LSD, fairly mild but will give the subject hallucinations and make him very paranoid."

"How do you know he'll talk, some men ..." MacDonald began.

Wolf cut him off, "Everyone talks, it's just a matter of time."


Tan Quanyu listened carefully as the police constable detailed the accident on the M8 which had killed two people and, the police believed, had had a third occupant of the vehicle who was now missing. His contact in the Glasgow police was politically motivated, a sincere believer in Communism, especially the variety espoused by the People's Republic of China.

"It looks like a drug hit, but the sophistication of the attack leads us to believe otherwise. A drug gang would have sprayed the vehicle with automatic weapons fire, this car was hit by a single round which disabled the engine and the two dead occupants were each hit by a single round to the head."

Tan asked, "What about the drugs in the vehicle? What about the currency nailed to the driver's head? This seems like a drug thing to me."

"It might be, and headquarters seems willing to write it off as just that, a squabble between drug gangs. But, the circumstances were interesting enough that I thought you'd be interested."

"Hhmm, it may be a simple police matter, but thank you for bringing it to our attention. I'll be in touch PC¹ Huang."

Tan looked at his watch, he needed to get to the communications room at the Consulate in Edinburgh. Ditmir Hamza was overdue, he had expected the man to contact him over an hour ago.

His man inside the Glasgow police did well to contact him. Jason Huang was a true believer, his parents had emigrated to the UK to open a business, with PRC help, and their son had proven to be an asset of very high value indeed. Now it was his job to try and determine if the incident on the M8 had involved his hireling, Hamza.


The pain began in the sole of his left foot and then had radiated up his leg and into his groin. He gasped at the intensity of it, he felt a brief sense of shame as he realized that he had wet himself. Then he realized, he had heard himself gasp, so he wasn't deaf.

As the pain subsided, Hamza tried to regain control of himself, then the pain began again, this time starting from the sole of his right foot. He cried out and tried to wiggle away from the pain spreading throughout his body, to no avail, the straps cut into his flesh, then the pain stopped and the space he was in was suddenly flooded with very bright light.

He clenched his eyes shut, but the brightness of the light seemed to burn through his eyelids, only to abruptly stop, the room dark again. Then a speaker near his right ear hissed to life and he heard, "Kush është miku yt në Kinë?"²

Hamza said nothing, he knew this for some sort of trick, then the pain began again.


MacDonald shook his head, "Hamza is dead? How?"

Wolf shrugged, "Probably a heart attack, I don't really care. But we got a name from him, a cultural attaché at the Consulate in Edinburgh. A certain Tan Quanyu, he's been at the Consulate for a little under a year. I've got my guys checking on him, see what sort of information we have on this guy. It's a start."

"Shall I pass that along to my superiors? Perhaps they already have some sort of ..." MacDonald asked.

"Sure, if you want the guy to skip town as soon as he hears that he's under suspicion."

"You think that there's a leak in my organization?"

"Until we know otherwise, everything we discover should stay with us. Your team and mine, nobody else."

MacDonald nodded, "Probably a wise move."

Wolf grimaced, "Certainly, not probably."



¹ Police Constable.
² Albanian - "Who is your friend in China?"

18 comments:

  1. Ecclesiastes 10: 20 Do not curse the king even in your thoughts, or curse the rich even in your bedroom, for a bird of the air may carry your words, and a winged creature may report your speech.

    Leaky lips are a problem in covert operations.

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    1. No edit, today a winged creature might be e-comm intercept or a drone or even a traffic camera showing odd movements around a "Drug Hit".

      Michael the any mouse today

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    2. Always a problem when people can't keep their mouths shut.

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    3. Even more so when it's intentional for either money or ideology.

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  2. A 9mm heart attack?

    I like your pragmatic side coming out, Sarge.

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    Replies
    1. No, the electric shocks administered to his feet, plus the drugs, caused his heart to fail.

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    2. Ahh, I didn't understand what was causing the pain. Feet huh, not the 80's movie trope of wires connected to their nipples or privates? haha.

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  3. Another step up the food chain, not giving that "cultural attaché" long to remain unvisited Sarge.

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    1. But he might be on to the fact that someone is on to him, Hamza's disappearance tells him something is "off."

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  4. Missed commenting on the last installment: The UK: Land of 10,000 cameras.

    Skulking around has gotten harder and harder in our modern age. Even the country club HOA down the road from my subdivision installed Flock cameras at their entrances.

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    1. Make that 10,001: your own dash-cam can turn you in.
      https://dailysceptic.org/2026/11/12/beware-the-crime-of-muttering-to-yourself/

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    2. Yes, camera coverage in the UK is frightening, but how far has it extended to rural areas?

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    3. dearieme - That's some George Orwell crap right there.

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  5. Darkly written Sarge - but it is a dark business.

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    1. It will, no doubt, get darker. Though many refuse to admit it, we are in a war for the survival of civilization.

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  6. Although the names, places and incidents depicted here are fiction, I have no doubt that in the real world similar events have occurred, without widespread knowledge of them. Or, who is doing them to whom. Humans are often very nasty people, even truly evil in some cases. It is well to keep that in mind, and avoid naive Pollyanna notions that every person is a good and caring person.

    Hopefully in this fictional account, the relatively good guys will fare better than the more bad guys, and the folks sleeping peaceably in their beds will again be protected by rough men ready to do violence on their behalf.
    JB

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Just be polite... that's all I ask. (For Buck)
Can't be nice, go somewhere else...

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