Apollo was smiling. Pour water over that smile and immediately a film of ice would form.
"A spy," said Apollo, looking into my open eyes. "Another damn spy."
I shook my head. Ridiculous, but that's what I did. The movement pulled at the wound in the back of my neck and sharp pain, starting there, shot through my whole body. I grimaced and groaned.
Apollo laughed, then suddenly brought his club hard across my face. My cheekbone seemed to make a crunching sound.
"A spy, a damned spy," said Apollo.
"We got a confession for you to sign," said the Crane.
Apollo said, "Shut up. Not yet. We got to interview him first."
"Look," I said, trying to lift my head, trying to rise upon my elbows, "call your chief. Call anybody like that. I can explain this whole thing. It's a long story—"
He hit me again across the other cheekbone.