Speaking as steadily as was possible after having his organs fried, he said, “My real name is John Carr. I used to be a government assassin, decades ago, tasked to a special division of the CIA so classified not even the president knew about it. I had a falling-out with my superiors. I’ve been on the run ever since. Agent Knox is one of the best men the intelligence community has. He was assigned by the president of the United States himself to hunt me down because they believed that I murdered Senator Roger Simpson and Carter Gray. I’m sure you heard about that. Well, Knox is as good as his rep, because he found me. Now we’re here at Dead Rock being beaten and tortured by a bunch of drug dealers masquerading as prison officials.” He glanced around at the guards. “But I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. The president will probably just forget the matter and do no follow-up. I doubt they care what happens to me. Or one of their best agents.”

Stone could now see just the reaction he was hoping for. Sweat. Sweat and nervous glances, particularly from the one-striper and Manson, who looked ready to piss all over their Gestapo boots.

The next instant Stone was on his feet, the current thundering through him. When Tyree released the button, Stone took a little while to recover, panting and gasping for air, his muscles twitching uncontrollably.

He gasped, “You can do a polygraph. I’m sure you’re set up to do that what with all the electronic gizmos you guys seem to enjoy so much. I can tell you enjoy the pain thing, but it’s not getting you what you want. So be smart about it, Warden. Ask me the question again. Who am I, while I’m strapped to the meter. Then you’ll see what the truth really is. But again I wouldn’t worry. I don’t see how sixteen intelligence agencies plus the Department of Homeland Security, with thousands of highly trained agents and collective budgets of about a hundred billion dollars, will ever find us here.”

Now, finally, Stone could see the twitch in the warden’s eyes too. Tyree fingered the box but did not push the button again. He also did not meet Stone’s gaze.

Later that night after their hearts and other organs had settled down from the pounding, they were both hooked to polygraphs. Questions were asked and answered. And results were read. The squiggly lines from the polygraph did not appear to please the warden. Stone could see that clearly from the man not looking at him as he ordered them back to their cell.

Let him sweat tonight.