Nezar remained silent. Face down half-naked on a cot, his feet tied with a cable, Nezar continued to keep his mouth shut. His left hand was handcuff ed. His eyes were blindfolded. From above, the air-conditioner emmitted a bone-chilling draft.
The voices once again questioned sharply, “Where is Wiji?” Others yelled. “Wiji Thukul made the pamphlets, right? Thukul’s poem was actually good, but he had a dirty mind.”
The kidnappers’ questions made Nezar aware that Wiji was the target of their operation.