"You got it, buddy," Joe said with a curt nod. "I'd expect the same thing from you."

The truth was, Joe had no qualms about killing Dan or anybody else in their cell if it had to be done. Joe knew firsthand that it didn't take much to get someone to crack. What he'd preformed over the years would be considered light torture -- beatings, teeth pulling, etc -- but he was bush league compared to the KGB. Like Dan said, they could get you to sing like a goddamn canary. It didn't matter how tough you claimed to be; Everybody cracked eventually.

Joe lit up a cigarette and looked at Dan out the corner of his eye as they walked away from the car. Spooky Dan is what he thought of him internally. He was aloof as hell a lot of times, like the disconnect a commanding officer would have in the military books Joe sometimes read. There was also a weight there that Joe recognized. Joe knew he carried it too, but in a completely different way. They'd both send their fair share of shit over the years. Everyone could guess what Joe had seen and done, but Dan? He was a fucking enigma.