Campus Platoon

Action packed, this gripping story is about a Second Year University Student who infiltrates a junior batch in the same faculty in order to understand unseen social issues among new arrivals.

However, Senior Student turned Insider, Chethi Senadheera bumps against something more serious than he originally expected within a junior batch — military intelligence.

Plot thickens as spy meets spy and Campus Platoon steps in.

Note: This story was previously published in 2006 in the Creative Writing Column of a Sri Lankan News Paper called Daily News. Visit the original web page through this link:

http://archives.dailynews.lk/2006/10/09/fea16.asp

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10. Interrogation

 

In Neksha's favourite rendezvous — an abandoned stone building sandwiched between a textile and a liquor shop in an inconspicuous alleyway in the disreputable backstreets of the capital — we straightened out our prisoner and tied him up to a chair.

Meryl threw a bucket of water to wake him up.

Dinukha shook his head from side to side like a wounded animal. Then his eyes fluttered open.

We did not subject him to any physical violence any more. But we put him through every kind of mental stress a sane man can conjure up to disrupt an unyielding prisoner but...

...it was all to no avail.

His mouth looked like it had been welded together. I was sure he was not a BSc undergraduate. But I wanted to know who he was. He would not tell.

After two hours Dough said he has had enough. And that he is bored stiff with no one else left to be hit and kidnapped. So we all were. I had met with a dead end.

We had minutely gone through Dinukha's pockets and also his wallet. There was not the faintest clue on who he was, where he is from, who his parents were, or at least whether his name was Dinukha at all.

I told Neksha we should let him go. He readily agreed and whispered, "after we set him free we are going to shadow him."

Meryl cut the bonds and Renegen kicked Mr. X out of the building.

"Never try showing your face inside the campus again buddy" he growled, "We are a platoon. We can get you accidentally killed if you dare show up in places you are not supposed to be." Then he shut the door.

We followed X along the barely moving 7 O' clock traffic and through the thronging river of office leavers. Evening was thick with acid smoke of burnt hydro carbons.

And it was noisy.

Din was terrific when everyone honks their presence to everyone else. At a busy intersection a bus paused by the kerb momentarily cutting out our query from view, and when it left there was no X.

We had lost him.

We never saw him again.

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