Black Ops 03 - Deadly Games
“AreaOctober 4, 7:00 A.M.
“I want breakfast. Two eggs, scrambled, with toast. Coffee, black.” Rocco looked directly at the closed-circuit camera that monitored his movements in the room. He maintained three seconds of eye contact, then turned away before giving in to the urge to flip off the viewer.
Food was the last thing Rocco wanted, but he figured Thing 1 and Thing 2 would be more likely to respond to an innocuous-sounding request. Offering threats had done nothing.
And after a night of no sleep Rocco really could use the coffee. Edgy, he paced. He hated being kept in the dark, literally and figuratively. The windowless nine-foot square room made him restless.
Sparsely furnished, it held a twin bed, a wall-mounted television, a compact refrigerator, and a small-scale table with chairs just slightly larger than kiddy furniture. The adjacent bath was equally spartan: sink, shower, head.
Rocco was familiar with his place of detainment, the basement level of a high-rise not too far outside D.C.
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