He opened his eyes to narrow slits to look around him, to plan out each step of his escape, but even that tiny movement sent pain shooting through his skull. The agony from the last beating was nearly shattering, but he didn’t dare lose consciousness. They would kill him next time, and next time was coming much quicker than he had anticipated. If he didn’t find a way out soon, all the physical and psychic enhancements in the world wouldn’t save him.

The rebels had every right to be angry with him. Jack’s twin brother, Ken, and his paramilitary GhostWalker team had successfully extracted the rebels’ first truly valuable American political prisoners. A United States senator had been captured while traveling with a scientist and his aides. The GhostWalkers had come in with deadly precision, rescued the senator, the scientist, and his two aides along with the pilot, and left the camp in shambles. Ken had been captured and the rebels had had a field day torturing him. Jack had no choice but to go in after his brother.

The rebels weren’t any happier with Jack for depriving them of their prisoner then they had been with Ken. Jack had laid down the covering fire as the GhostWalkers were extracting Ken and had taken a hit. The wound wasn’t critical-he’d been testing his leg and it wasn’t broken-but the bullet had driven his leg out from under him on impact. He’d waved his team off and resigned himself to the same torture his brother had endured-one more thing they shared as they had in their younger days.

The first beating hadn’t been so bad-before Major Biyoya showed up. They’d kicked and punched him, stomping on his wounded leg a couple of times, but for the most part, they’d refrained from torturing him, waiting to find out what General Ekabela had in mind. The general had sent Biyoya.