The Ultimate Return of Carlos

11: The Cold Truth

"Okay, sir," the response came promptly.

With that, the distinct sound of Edgar's polished shoes resumed, this time moving away from Carlos. The masked men quickly approached Carlos, setting to work with efficiency. They cleaned him up using damp cloths and provided him with fresh clothes, removing the vestiges of his earlier distress.

As the men worked, Carlos's mind raced with both fear and a flicker of hope. He was in a dire situation, but Edgar's insistence on cleanliness and order suggested a level of professionalism that might mean they weren’t intent on harming him.

Once the task was complete, one of the men stepped away to inform Edgar that Carlos was now cleaned up. The lights remained intensely bright, but Carlos had adjusted slightly, allowing him to make out more of his surroundings. The warehouse was expansive, filled with stacked crates and industrial equipment, shadows looming in the corners.

Soon, the distinctive sound of Edgar's footsteps approached once more. Edgar emerged from behind the lights, his presence as commanding as his voice. He stopped a few feet from Carlos and gave him a scrutinizing look.

“Much better,” Edgar remarked, observing Carlos now that he was cleaned up. “Now, let’s get down to business. You’re here because you might just be the key to getting what we want. you're not a random victim, but an important piece."

Carlos, still disoriented and scared, managed to reply, “I... I don’t understand. I-I’m just trying to live my life. Plea-se, I don’t know anything. Th-there must be a mistake somewhere. I am not your guy.”

Edgar smiled, his expression calculated and measured. “Oh, but you do. And lying won't help you, trust me. Where is Olivia?” But before Carlos could respond, Edgar interrupted, flicking his finger from left to right and simultaneously saying, "Uh-uh-uh. Think before you answer. You don’t want to say something I won’t like — you don’t want to get hurt again."

The chill of realization crept up Carlos's spine. He was in deeper trouble than he knew. “I don’t know anything. I swear,” he insisted, his voice a mix of fear and pleading.

Edgar then pulled up a chair, positioning himself directly in front of Carlos. He shook his head slightly, his expression a blend of regret and resolve. "You see, that's not really the answer I was hoping for," Edgar said quietly, the room filled with a tense silence. At a subtle flick of his fingers, one of his men approached with a bucket, unceremoniously dousing Carlos with freezing cold water.

As the icy water cascaded down his body, Carlos couldn’t help but shiver uncontrollably, his teeth chattering loudly as they clashed together from the intense cold engulfing him. The shock of the water made every nerve in his body scream in protest, his muscles tightening reflexively.

Suddenly, an agonizing scream tore from Carlos’s throat, raw and piercing, as if his very life force was being drawn out. "Haaaaaah...!!!!!!" he cried out, the sound echoing off the bare walls of the warehouse. The iron chair to which he was bound had been rigged with electric cables, turning it into a cruel conductor of electricity. The device controlling the flow of electricity was in the hands of one of Edgar's men, who watched impassively as voltage surged through Carlos’s body.

"Stop," Edgar commanded sharply, his voice cutting through the thick air as he raised a hand. The electricity ceased abruptly, leaving a heavy silence punctuated only by Carlos’s labored breathing and the faint dripping of water onto the concrete floor. Edgar’s face was impassive, showing no pleasure in the act but a cold determination. After a few seconds that stretched into an eternity of lingering pain for Carlos, Edgar leaned forward, his gaze fixed intently on Carlos's tormented face.

"Let’s try this again," Edgar began, his voice steady but carrying an underlying edge of urgency. "I need better answers, Carlos. Where is Olivia? Think carefully — your next few words could help me free you. Help me help you."

"I-I don't know where Olivia is," he stammered, his voice weak and shivering. "We were together, but I lost track of her. Please, believe me."

Edgar's gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained stern. "I want to believe you, Carlos. But you must understand, we are dealing with matters of utmost importance. Your cooperation is crucial." He gestured to his men, who removed the restraints from Carlos and helped him to his feet.

Once freed, Carlos shivered uncontrollably, his wet clothes clinging to his skin. Edgar motioned for a blanket, which was quickly brought to cover Carlos. "You need to dry off and warm up," Edgar said, his voice more compassionate now. "We will continue our conversation later."

As Carlos sat wrapped in the blanket, his mind raced. He had to find a way out of this situation, but he was unsure of whom to trust. The situation was precarious, and Carlos knew he had to tread carefully.

After some time, Edgar returned, his demeanor more relaxed. "Feeling better?" he asked, offering Carlos a cup of hot tea. Carlos nodded, accepting the tea gratefully. "Thank you," he said, taking a sip. "I-I'm sorry, I truly don't know where Olivia is. We were together, but we got separated during the chaos."

Edgar nodded thoughtfully. "I believe you, Carlos. But we need to find her. And I believe I might just know how to do that. You."

Puzzled, Carlos asked, "Me?"

"Yes, you, my friend." He paused, then continued, "You're not our enemy, Carlos. And I personally want you to know I derive no pleasure in what I've done to you. And even more in what I'm about to do to you. For that, I'm genuinely sorry. But starting from tomorrow, you won't be a complete man no more. We'll start dismembering you bit by bit, starting with your fingers and sending them to her. If she truly likes you, she'd surrender herself before we chop off all your right fingers."

At that moment, fear gripped Carlos, a depth of fear he had never experienced before. Looking into Edgar's eyes, he knew he was not the type to bluff with his words.