In a long forgotten hunting shack, miles into the mountainous terrain surrounding the city, a lone German officer sat in a chair. His hands were loosely bound, there was no gag, and his feet were bare but he sat close enough to the roaring fire that frost bite was no concern. His head lolled backwards and drool oozed down his chin to gather with the long dried puddle that now stained his once crisp white shirt. As his body shifted the chair made a crinkling noise on the large tarp it sat upon.<br/><br/>Hamish looked up from the table where he had been cleaning his rifle. Stood and carefully lowered the officer’s head back down. He had spent the last month gathering information on the names that topped his list, having not seen the tall blonde man after that night in the hotel. He had not let his focus falter on the job but there was still something that nagged at his mind like a name that should be important but couldn’t be recalled. The whole situation that night had seemed…off.<br/><br/>Hamish heard the officer mumble something and took his seat across from him. The officer opened his eyes but failed to focus them properly. The officer tried to take in his surroundings for a heartbeat before vomiting on himself. It was not the first time and Hamish had long since learned to ignore his own physical response.<br/><br/>Hamish turned and reached into the pocket of his coat, which hung on a hook behind his chair, and withdrew a vial of white powder. Hamish rarely ever resorted to traditional methods of interrogation as they very rarely got the needed results. If you just wanted someone to admit to something, regardless of truth, pain might get you there. But Hamish needed information and his method was far more successful.<br/><br/>The vial held an extract from a South American plant and was not as popular in Germany as morphine or amphetamines. This officer had lived a relatively clean life but after just three days had developed a powerful addiction to the powder. Hamish doled it out twice a day forcing the officer to drink water before he would give it to him, feeding his habit for the last week in this hut. The man was a sad figure indeed now, his face no longer hard with cruelty but hollow from want. His eyes could barely focus on anything but the white vial in Hamish’s hand and his mind focused on barely more than that. His responses were almost feral now. Drink the water, get the powder, and go to back to sleep.<br/><br/>Hamish tapped the vial on the table softly making sure the officer was watching.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><br/>“Tell me about the woman Darcy,”</span>Hamish said. The officer whimpered and futilely tried to grab the vial but a week of only water and drugs had made him very slow. The officer whimpered again at the failure but simply slumped in the chair.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Tell me of the woman Darcy,”</span>Hamish repeated. The officer took a different approach, trying to lunge across the table, for a whisper of time Hamish saw the murdering, drug induced rage that darkened a soul to its very core in the eyes of the officer. But he had seen it before and was ready for this as well, merely kicking the table hard into the officer, halting the lunge before there had been any momentum gathered. Now, out of breath and still no closer to the vial, the officer wept openly on the floor.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Please,”</span>the officer bellowed between the racking sobs and the flying snot.<br/><br/>After a moment, Hamish opened the vial and tapped a small line onto a dirty metal dish. The officer immediately recovered and sat up to a kneeling position, only his eyes appearing over the top of the table. The eyes were now hungry and broken, a pathetic waste of the evil man who had once taken residence there. Hamish wished he could find pleasure here but as always, feeling eluded him.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“A castle…”</span>the officer sputtered,<span style="font-style: italic">“Somewhere in the mountains.”</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Where is the castle?”</span>Hamish asked patiently, inching the dish towards the officer. But the officer only shook his head, his predatory eye gleaming at the sight of the powder being closer. Hamish knew the fogged brain was thinking if he withheld information, he could use it to get more of the powder. So Hamish instead pulled the dish away. The predatory gleam instantly turned to panic and the officer shouted something unintelligible.<br/><br/>Hamish opened a map onto the table of the surrounding area and the officer, now in a manic rush to comply, put his face inches from the page and began searching. To Hamish it seemed as if he were trying to sniff out the location, which caused Hamish to grin widely. Perplexed, Hamish wondered if he had almost laughed. There had been a lightness to his chest from the feeling and an almost euphoric burst of adrenaline surging through his body.<br/><br/>A frantic tapping had Hamish looking at the map. So that is where the castle lies. Hamish looked at the officer, tempting him again with the dish of powder and asking him if he was sure of his answer. Shortly after that night in the hallway, Hamish had heard stories of the soldiers about a group of their guards being slaughtered in the mountains. One of the soldiers been broken here, in much the same manner as the officer, and admitted they had been assigned to guard Darcy and some other woman. The other woman somehow had escaped and no one was quite certain how the guards had died but this officer had been in charge of providing the transport of fresh troops to the castle. If anyone knew where it was located, this officer was the one.<br/><br/>“Who was the other woman being guarded?” Hamish pushed his luck here. The officer was close to breaking but Hamish needed as much information as he could glean. It was sounding like Darcy might be a much larger threat than Hitler ever would be.<br/><br/>The officer looked completely distraught as he searched through his hazed memory. The officer started pacing then waving his arms and slapping his head. He wanted to answer, he knew the answer, and the prize lay on a dish by the Jew-loving son-of-a-whore who knew nothing... The officer stopped pacing and simply stared at the floor, his rage having vanished as his mind replayed that night. Strong drink had weakly held the demons of that night at bay, the powder was far superior! He didn’t dream of his friends, his brothers being thrown around and ripped apart by nothing! Then the appearance of that flying man with the sword! The officer had soiled his pants and hidden in the recesses of the castle interior until the woman and the winged monster were long gone.<br/><br/>“Isolde!” the officer screamed in a voice of pure terror and hate. Then he ran the three steps back to the table repeating the name, as if it would somehow dispel the demons, begging the man for the powder that would allow him to forget again the sights and sounds of that horrible night.<br/><br/>Hamish could tell by the innocent pleading that the officer was no longer capable of lying or drawing things out. He needed his fix. Hamish slid the dish over with a smile and even provided the rolled up piece of filthy paper for the officer to use. Hamish watched, intrigued by the sudden calm control that came over the man as he inhaled the powder into his nose. The officer sat back in the chair with a deep sigh, relief flooding through him as the world of pain drifted away.<br/><br/>Hamish was not as intrigued when the officer gagged once, fell to the floor, and began convulsing violently.  Hamish stood and opened the back door of the hut, letting the frigid December air drift through and clean out some of the rancid smell. He walked over to a large fire pit that had needed some maintenance when Hamish had found it many months ago. But it had served a very useful purpose since then. Hamish added some wood into the fire pit as he listened to the last of the convulsions rack the officer on the floor. He withdrew two vials from his pocket, both containing a fine white powder. Hamish marveled at just similar strychnine looked to the other drug.<br/><br/>“Isolde,” Hamish said aloud, as if trying out the name on his own tongue. He picked up a can of gasoline and began to prepare the fire pit for the removal of another body. Here in the lonely backwoods, if anyone ever found the ashes and bones, Hamish knew it would be attributed to the Nazi’s.<br/><br/>As for him, it was time to return to town.