The next day, early in the morning, Thomas exited the interrogation room.
His eyes were bloodshot and his expression weary, yet he harbored a fire within him.
All night long.
Song Heping had endured dozens of instances of waterboarding.
Yet he still hadn't broken.
"Damn it!"
He fished a cigarette case out of his pocket, snapped a cigarette alight, and exhaled a plume of smoke.
The sun was already peeking out in the east, bathing the entire airport in morning light.
The morning breeze in Illiguo was a rare cool relief.
Thomas stretched, inhaled a deep breath of fresh air, and felt somewhat relieved.
He began contemplating what methods to employ today to make Song Heping talk.
Electroshock?
Exhaustion interrogation?
Or chemical interrogation?
Perhaps he'd use all of them.
See if he would still refuse to talk!
Before he could decide, the satellite phone in the pocket of his tactical vest started buzzing.
"Thomas, come to my office immediately!"
It was Simon's voice.