Second That Emotion
by Latikia
Copyright © 2006
Chapter 14
Lilly and I started spending a lot of our free time together that week, just talking or walking around the hospital in companionable silence. I was getting stronger and the pain in my side decreased enough that I stopped taking the painkillers.
I wasn’t allowed to join them on their trip to the
Smithsonian that weekend, so I was pretty much alone on the ward that
Saturday. I had one of the techs dig my duffel bag out of hospital storage
and got my hands on my wallet. I talked one of the medtechs
into taking me over to the Base Exchange so I could buy some regular
clothes. Most of mine, including all of my civilian clothes, were in temp
storage in
After we returned from the BX I stashed my new stuff in a small carry-all and threw on the sweats I’d purchased, smeared on some sun blocker and went downstairs. I spent the next hour jogging around the hospital and its grounds, not thinking about much of anything…except for Izzy.
The next week I spent taking psych tests and going to the
The psych tests were at least interesting. Hundreds of questions to be answered; questions phrased in odd ways designed to reveal the innermost workings of my mind. I went out of my way to pick the least likely answers. One test didn’t ask questions. That one wanted pictures. #7 Draw a picture of a house. #21 Draw a picture of a tree. Well, I have no artistic talent whatsoever. I’m one of those people who can’t draw a straight line with a ruler. So I faked it. My house looked like it was drawn by a four year old. The tree was fun. I drew a stump that had been hit by lightning and was still smoking. One asked me to draw a picture of a man and a woman, so I made the man look kind of like Mickey Mouse and the woman was the traditional stick figure with a skirt and tits.
I don’t think the people who reviewed my tests got the joke.
Monday of the third week I had another meeting with Colonel DeBerg.
“Before we go over the results of your tests I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
I eased into the chair and tried to get comfortable. “Ask away.”
“What kind of relationship do you have with your father?”
I thought for a bit. “No much of one. I have no idea why we’ve never gotten along, we just don’t. I don’t like him. I don’t think I love him. Uneasy truce might be a good description.”
“I see. How about your brother?”
“I dislike my brother. He’s five years older than I am, and when we were kids he bullied me constantly. When I got too big to bully he ignored me. We haven’t spoken in years.”
“Your sister?”
Ahhhh….
“My relationship with my sister is complicated. Until I was thirteen she and my brother were a tag team, taking turns making my life miserable. In large part because she’d been mistreated by a boy, she lashed out at all boys. I happened to be readily at hand, so I got the brunt of her anger. We made up and were quite close until she went off to college. We’ve only spoken once since then.”
“So your only real family bond was with your mother?”
“No. I had a good relationship with my grandfather. And I was married. Granted only for a short time, but the family bond was real enough. Doesn’t the file mention that?”
He flipped thru the pages. “No, that piece of information seems to have been left out.”
“My second year of college. A brilliant, loving, beautiful woman. She and our unborn child were killed in a car crash. I dropped out of school after that and joined the Army.”
“Did you have many friends as a child?” he asked.
“It was years before I could safely go outside in daylight. I didn’t look like the other children, I couldn’t act like the other children. I was a freak, of sorts. There was one or two in high school I thought of as friends and a couple more in college but that’s about it.”
“Girlfriends?”
I laughed. “One in high school. I was on the soccer team and that was close enough to being a jock for her. It turned out she was using me to hide her girlfriend from the rest of the school.”
Colonel DeBerg was quiet for a time.
“Ike, you have led a very dysfunctional life.”
I nodded my agreement. “No doubt about that.”
“I’m surprised that you’re as well adjusted as you are.”
“Colonel, if I were that well adjusted, would I be here right now? Let’s be honest. I’m socially maladjusted and inept, at best. I don’t like people very much, I don’t work well in team situatitions and I resent the hell out of authority figures.”
He smiled. “All true. And the tests you’ve taken confirm that diagnosis. However, I’ve been comparing notes with the nurses, the techs and the doctors on the ward and we all agree that you have tremendous compassion, an innate understanding of human nature and a sense of empathy that’s almost scary.”
I flinched at empathy. “My talent. Sometimes I can help; most of the time I can’t.”
“Ike, based on your test results and your interviews with me, the committee is going to recommend that you be medically retired from the service. It’s going to take a while to process, and there are appeal boards that have to review our findings, but I’m positive that by the end of spring you’ll be a civilian again.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe now I’d have that chance to set things right and get back to what I’d wanted from the start.
I still kept Lilly company when our schedules didn’t conflict, and we always saw each other at the morning meeting. Lilly was the oddest combination of inner strength and emotional fragility I’d ever met. She could be supportive of other people, patiently understanding of their flaws and weaknesses, willing to prop them up and help them move off again on their own. She would have made a wonderful mother. But she couldn’t do, or be, those same things for herself. Where she saw potential in others, she saw nothing but hopelessness and failure in herself.
I was walking back to the bay one morning after my run, just passing by the room Lilly shared with another female patient, when I heard a heart rending cry thru the door. The doors to the semi-private rooms had a little holder just under the room number, where doctors would attach a little plaque that said IN SESSION, if they were having a meeting with a patient. The sign was boldly displayed. I heard more gut wrenching wailing and moaning come thru the door.
I stood there in the center of the hall, motionless, listening to her inner demons rip her apart. I wanted to help her, ease her pain, and take away the agony her memories created. I was pretty sure I could do that, if she’d let me. But would I be justified in doing it? Did I have the right to take away her pain? What would I have felt if someone had tried to take away my memories of Carlie, even if they were hopelessly entwined with misery? I’d have fought them tooth and nail for those god-awful memories, because they were mine and no one had the right to take a part of my life from me!
No, I didn’t have the right. Not without her permission, which I was pretty sure I’d never get. But I could do something. I could dull the edges for her. For all of them.
I sat down against the wall opposite Lilly’s door and closed my eyes. I conjured up the most loving things I’d ever had in my life; memories of Carlie and my mother; the way they’d made me feel safe and secure and strong.
Then I started broadcasting. I kept sending those feelings of love and understanding out in gentle waves. I stopped listening to the sounds around me, stopped thinking of anything other than those two emotions. Sending those feelings as far and as strongly for as long as I could, that was all that mattered.
I don’t know how long I sat there. Could have been hours, could have been a few minutes.
I felt a hand on the side of my face, gently stroking my cheek and whiskers. I’d decided the week before that since the Army was going to get rid of me I no longer had to shave and get weekly hair cuts.
I opened my eyes, still sending for all I was worth. Lilly was kneeling down beside me on the floor, tears in her eyes and a tiny smile on her lips. Behind her, and to the either side, stood all the residents and staff. All of them were looking down at me with concern.
I blinked a couple of times and focused back on Lilly. “Feeling a little better?” I asked her.
“A little. Everyone feels a little better, a little happier.”
“Good.”
She leaned close and whispered in my ear, “What did you do?”
“Not much. Just trying to share a little of my hard won understanding.”
I eased back on the emotions I was sending, letting them taper off slowly so no one would feel a sudden absence. I got to my feet and gave Lilly a hug, then went back into the bay to get my clothes and take a shower.
That weekend I took a pass and caught a cab into
One of the other women on the floor, Irene McCaullie caught me in the lobby and asked me if I’d go with her to the hospital chapel on Saturday for confession and Sunday so that she could take communion.
I freely admit that I have no faith in organized religions. Their biased viewpoints and credos, exclusionist policies and narrow minded outlooks leave me cold and uninterested. On the other hand, I understand that there are people who get a great deal of comfort from their structure and traditions, as well as from the belief that an almighty father figure is keeping watch over them.
I have no idea why Irene wanted me to go with her. We hadn’t talked together much beyond pleasantries. She asked and I wasn’t busy with anything else so I said I’d go with her.
Irene was not a young woman, the lines in her face proudly announced to the world that she’d ‘seen the elephant’. She dyed her hair a horrible shade of red and wore clothes that would have looked better on a girl closer to my age.
Irene was dying of AIDS, and she was scared something
awful. She’d been brought up in
She explained all this to me as we sat in the pews of the
hospital’s tiny chapel. How she’d fallen in love with a boy in high
school who wasn’t Catholic and wasn’t Irish. How they’d run away, eloped
and both escaped into the military. How they’d raised their children and
sent them out into the world, hopefully more broadminded and understanding than
their cousins back in
I sat with her and listened, and inside I shook with anger at what had happened to this poor woman. Yes, life is unfair. But to feel that you’d been abandoned by the one thing you always thought you could count on…could anything in a person’s life be worse?
I held her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Irene, I don’t know much about God, or the Catholic Church. I know about people and how they feel. From what you’ve told me…I can’t think of any reason God would ever send you anywhere but to heaven. You’ve lived a good life. You’ve loved and been loved, you raised your children to be good loving people…you have nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. Remember, the whole point behind everything Jesus taught is love, right?” She nodded.
I stood up with her and we walked together towards a chaplain kneeling in prayer.
“You do or say what you feel you have to. I’ll wait right here for you.” I quickly linked to the woman, and felt the river of her fear and guilt. This was not right. This I could do something about.
I began draining off her two most powerful emotions. I maintained the link while she and the chaplain knelt together and whispered to each other. A small amount at first, then as the flood gates opened it came pouring into me in a rush. I pulled it deeper and deeper inside me, welcoming the emotions, acknowledging them for what they were but never letting them become part of me.
When Irene was done, she thanked the priest and we left together, arm in arm. The next day I went with her to Mass and held her hand. On Monday Irene came down with pneumonia and Wednesday evening she died. I stayed with her as much as I could, making sure she wasn’t afraid. Her children were by her side and I linked them all together so she’d know how much she was loved.
Thursday I ran around the hospital from dawn till dusk, stopping twice for water and once to take a piss.
Friday I spent in the hallway, broadcasting Irene’s love to anyone who came in range. No one bothered me on either day, just letting me do what I felt I had to.
Saturday it snowed. Hard. Lilly, Tim, Auggie, Walt and I were in the dayroom playing Monopoly when the weekend ward nurse, Lt. Everson came in.
“Excuse me folks, I hate to interrupt. Ike, you have a couple of visitors.”
I wasn’t expecting visitors. “Sorry guys. Go ahead and cash me out and divide up my properties. I’ll see you later.”
I followed Lt. Everson down the hall. We passed the nurses station, but I didn’t see anyone except for the patients who hadn’t gone out on pass.
“They’re waiting for you in Colonel DeBerg’s office.” she said answering my unasked question.
I knocked on the door to DeBerg’s office, heard a voice say something, so I opened the door and stepped in.
Aside from Colonel DeBerg there were two other men in the room. This was becoming uncomfortably familiar. I started to listen for that other damn shoe.
One of them was tall and thin, dark hair shot thru and thru with gray, wire rimmed glasses, a nose like an eagle, and an Adam’s apple that stuck out from his thin neck like the dorsal fin on a shark. I would have guessed his age at somewhere between fifty and eighty.
The second man was younger, but not all that young. Probably in his late thirties or early forties, he had light brown hair cut very short and close to his head, a friendly face that boasted a pair of the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen on a human, a neck so thick with muscle it looked almost as if his head was attached directly to his shoulders. He had the build of either a linebacker or a bodybuilder…I couldn’t make up my mind on that one.
Both men wore suits. The tall man’s was a European style double breasted charcoal gray with blue and red pin stripes, a white shirt with French cuffs and gold cufflinks in the shape of eyes. His tie was a vivid blue and instead of a tie pin he had a small thin chain holding it against his shirt. The bodybuilder’s suit was dark blue, single breasted and obviously tailored to his body. It very nearly hid the bulge of his shoulder holster. His shirt was white with vertical blue lines, regular button cuffs, and his tie matched the color of the shirt’s stripes.
Both suits cost big bucks. These guys were not military and they weren’t FBI.
The bodybuilder gave me the once over a couple of times. The taller, older man just smiled slightly and nodded in my direction.
Colonel DeBerg waved in the direction of the remaining open seat, against the far wall, the bodybuilder between me and the taller man.
“Have a seat Ike.”
I nodded in the direction of the two men. “Visitors?”
The Colonel frowned. It being the weekend and all I knew he wasn’t happy getting called in for something non-medical.
“Ike, this is Dr. Wills and his assistant Mr. Jones.”
“Assistant? Is that what it’s being called now?” I said with a grin.
The ‘assistant’ just kept watching me. Dr. Wills, the taller man, chuckled.
“I was told you were sharp, Sergeant Blacktower.” His voice was a light tenor, rather surprising in a man his size.
“Yeah, that’s me…nothing but edges. And my name is Ike. Sergeant Blacktower is in the process of being retired.”
“What about the Ghost?” the ‘assistant’ asked. His voice was a coarse, harsh sounding thing, more like gargling with rocks than speaking. I bet he was fun on karaoke night.
“Ghosts, by their very nature, are always with us.” I turned towards the taller man, Dr. Wills. “So, what does the CIA want with me?”
Jones flinched slightly. DeBerg’s eyes narrowed and Wills started laughing.
I sat back, watched and waited.
“Very sharp.” Wills said once he’d gotten his laughter under control. “Yes, Ike, Mr. Jones and I work for the CIA. I’ve come here to ask you for your help. I’ve seen your military files and I’m most impressed with your skills as an interviewer. I have two individuals in custody; both present me with unusual difficulties in closing out their cases. I think your talents might allow me to close those cases by the end of the day.”
I was quiet for a moment or two. “Dr. Wills, the last time my talents as an interviewer were requested I ended up in a war with holes in my body. As you might imagine, I’m not eager for a repeat performance.”
“I can appreciate that. I am willing to guarantee, in writing, that we will not be leaving the D.C. area and will have you back here tonight no later than 2100.”
“I was under the impression that the CIA had agents, analysts and interviewers out the wahzoo. What do you need me for?” I asked.
“Colonel DeBerg, I’m sorry, but could you leave us for a few moments?” Wills asked politely, but it was no request, it was a thinly veiled command.
DeBerg got up and left, closing the door behind him.
“Ike,” Wills began, “I have gone over every single bit of your military, medical and civilian files. All of it. I know things about you that you probably don’t even remember. What impresses me most about you is your skill at reading people. Your talent extends beyond language and culture and that ability is why I’ve come here today. I have two individuals being held on suspicion of treason. Both have retreated behind a wall of language and culture, and despite our best efforts with drugs and language specialists, we can’t find out what we need to know. I can’t order you to help us. I am asking though. Just come and sit in on a brief session with each one and then give us your impressions. That’s it.”
I sat there looking at Dr. Wills and playing with my lengthening beard.
“Alright.”
Wills seemed to relax a little and breathed a sigh. Interesting. ‘Assistant’ Jones was still wound up tight. He looked relaxed and at ease, but it was an act. He was wound up tight as the bottom string on a banjo.
“I’ll go get my coat and sign out. Give me five minutes.” I said, getting up.
Dr. Wills stood up with me. He was taller than me, by a couple of inches, but didn’t look it because of his stooped posture. He held out a hand to me. We shook and his whole body shook with it.
Interesting.
I went back to the bay and grabbed my coat, a Navy pea-coat, and my black night watch stocking cap, went to the nurse’s station and signed out. Colonel DeBerg was there to countersign the authorization.
“I’ll be back tonight, and probably see you on Monday Colonel. Try and enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“Watch out for yourself, Ike.”
I nodded, getting into my coat, and headed towards the elevators.
We left the hospital and drove into the
“Are we ready?” Dr. Wills was apparently eager to begin.
“Yes, sir.” Jill replied and headed towards a door near the center of the house.
“Ike, if you would follow Jill we’ll get started. Here’s a list of the questions she’ll be asking our first subject. Make notes of your impressions and any follow up questions you think would be helpful.” He handed me two sheets of paper and a mechanical pencil.
I took them and followed Jill thru the door and down a flight of stairs to the basement. Jill had taken a seat behind a heavy metal table. There was a second chair next to her and one on the opposite side. Off to the left was a wall I could tell was not part of the foundation, and in the wall was a large mirrored window four feet wide and three feet high. Obviously we were being monitored and most likely filmed as well.
I took a seat next to Jill, set my papers down with the pencil on top and removed my coat, draping it over the back of the chair.
The sound of foot steps came from the stairway.
Jones escorted the ‘subject’ down the stairs and into the room and maneuvered him into the chair opposite us.
A strongly built man, somewhere in his late thirties, with dark curly hair, dark complexion and harsh eyes, he was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and restraints on his wrists and ankles.
The man glared at us. Jones retreated back up the stairs.
I linked with the man and waited for Jill to start asking her questions.
She rattled off a question and I watched the man’s face. He glared back at me, but growled back a curt reply to Jill.
His emotions were fascinating; anger, frustration, irritation, boredom. But he was also smug, and pleased. I looked at his hands, which he’d placed on the table top. Well groomed nails, strong fingers and powerful wrists. And a pale strip of lighter skin where he’d had a wedding ring on recently. There was also a very slight scent of aftershave.
Jill asked her second question. He continued to glare at me, but answered her.
His words were, I guessed, eastern European, possibly one of the Slavic languages, but his accent reminded me of Cuban Spanish.
His feelings of pleasure and smugness increased, boredom decreased. He was enjoying himself. I smiled at him.
I leaned forward and put my elbows on the edge of the table. “Dan Marino couldn’t lead a ball team out of the locker room, much less to a Super Bowl win.”
Inside his anger and irritation rocketed, the smugness and enjoyment faded to nothing. His face, though, remained harsh and he continued to glare at me in the same way he had from the start. Amazing facial control. His heartbeat remained constant and steady, his breathing even and slow.
He snarled a longer string of words.
Jill moved on to the third question.
I sat up and got to my feet. Walking over to the glass I stood for a moment, thinking, then rapped on it with the knuckles of my left hand.
“How long are we going to play this game? He’s one of yours, so unlock him already and let’s get on with whatever it was you actually brought me here for.”
I turned around and leaned back against the glass and waited, watching the expressions on Jill and the man in the jumpsuit.
Jill was startled and showed it. The man leaned back in his chair and glared. Oh, he was pissed alright. But gone was the smugness, the enjoyment, the irritation. Pissed and embarrassed.
Moments later Jones came back and released the man from his restraints. The two of them left without a word.
I went back and sat next to Jill.
“His accent was Cuban, not Slavic.” I whispered. “And he was having far too much fun trying to put one over on me.”
She nodded. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. But if they didn’t think I could do this they shouldn’t have brought me here.”
Dr. Wills came into the room and sat down in the vacant chair.
“I apologize for that, Ike.” Then he grinned like a kid at Christmas. “Damn, you are good! I thought it would take you much longer to figure him out. Alex is one of our finest field agents. He’s not at all happy you broke his cover so quickly.”
“He’s good, Doctor. But I’m guessing you pulled him in
to do this on short notice. His nails have recently been done and there’s
still a little aftershave on him. And he was too sure he could fool
me. He should also be very careful traveling in
“Truly amazing! No more tricks, I promise. Alright, let’s bring in our guest of honor. This is the fellow I really wanted you here for. Keep your eyes on this guy. He is extremely dangerous.”
“Lovely.” I muttered, and turned to Jill. “You wouldn’t by any chance happen to have a couple of black belts in some lethal martial art?”
Jill grinned at me then fought briefly to regain her composure. We could hear footsteps coming from the stairway.
This guy was different, I could tell that much just by looking at him. The way he moved, the way he held himself. He was taller than Jones, by about two inches, looked very thin, but not reedy. His neck was corded with taut and powerful strands of muscle and I figured the rest of him was put together in much the same way. His hair was dark, but very fine and it shifted aimlessly as he moved. His face reminded me of a ferret, but with a little more chin. There was something decidedly peculiar about the way his eyes moved, darting all over the place and then stopping and fixing intently on something. I linked with him quickly, prepared, I thought, for the worst.
I was very, very wrong. I’d always been convinced that ‘Evil’ was an abstract concept, subjective in pretty much every way. I was wrong. This man was Evil.
His eyes very nearly bugged out of his head when he spotted Jill and a powerful surge of sexual desire swept thru him. But his heartbeat remained slow and steady, his blood pressure was low and even, his breathing was calm and relaxed. Apart from desire and feelings of greed he was also awash with confidence, disdain, and a seemingly unlimited pool of hate. When he stopped staring at Jill and noticed me his feelings of desire increased even more, his hate swelled. The odd thing was that were no feelings of lust to go with his desire. And the combination of desire and hate left me wondering.
Jones sat the man firmly down in the chair and stepped back, preparing to leave.
“Mr. Jones. Would you happen to have a pocket knife?” I asked. Jones nodded, yes. “Could I borrow it for a moment? I’ll give it right back.”
Jones stepped around our man in the chair and came over to where I sat. He reached into his front right pocked and brought out a small penknife, a two blade model, and handed it to me.
“Thank you.”
I looked into the eyes of the man across from me. “Do you speak English?” I asked.
“Little bit. I am embassy driver. Have to speak Anglush to drive for deeplomat.”
I could feel the deception in him, the lie and the hate that kept swirling around inside him.
“What is your name?”
“Ivan Borechenko.” Hmmm, deception there.
“I have a brother named Ivan. I don’t like him either. Tell me Ivan, do you think Jill here is beautiful?”
He mumbled a few words.
Jill spoke quietly beside me, “He said he didn’t understand what you asked.” Ivan wasn’t feeling any confusion.
“Okay, you ask him.” Jill rattled off the question, and I opened the pocket knife, pulled back my shirt sleeve and made a small cut on the underside of my forearm.
“Da!” our man Ivan gasped. His sexual desire was climbing higher and higher. But still no feeling of lust. And his hate tasted like a vinegar and ammonia mix.
“Jill, if you would, translate for me, but only what I say.”
“Yes sir.”
“Ivan, would you like to kill me? Don’t you wish you could get your hands on this little knife and slice me up?” I asked and as Jill finished translating I made another small cut in my forearm and clenched my fist causing the blood to flow a little more.
“No. I am not killer.” His desire was growing to the point where I was beginning to think some of it was mine. But now there was an increased feeling of deception. Not a hint of guilt though.
I wiped the blade off and folded the knife up, handing it back to Mr. Jones. “Thank you.”
He nodded, put the knife back in his pocket and walked out, leaving the three of us in the room.
I turned to Jill. “Ask your questions. Ivan and I are ready.”
For two hours, Jill asked questions off the list in front of her, matching the papers in front of me, like; what’s your name, who do you work for, where were you on the afternoon of…
Ivan answered the questions, not just once but three times, each time in a different sequence. After the third time I raised my hand slightly and Jill stopped.
“I think that’s enough. Mr. Jones, would you join us please?”
Not more than two minutes passed before Jones came down the stairs and stood behind Ivan.
I stood up. “I will be right back. Ivan?” he looked up at me and grinned. “I’ll be right back Ivan…if you move one inch out of that chair, I’m going to hurt you very badly.”
Jill translated what I’d said and Ivan’s grin faded somewhat, but inside his hate and desire bubbled as if on a high boil.
“Doctor, meet me upstairs for a moment.” I said and left the basement.
Dr. Wills met me at the top of the stairs.
“Why is this man in your custody? What exactly is it you want answers to?” I demanded.
“Friend Ivan bothers you, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, now answer my questions. Why and what?”
“Ivan is in this country on a diplomatic passport, supposedly as a driver for embassy staffers. The FBI believes that Ivan is responsible for the kidnapping and deaths of at least four young women during his year long stay at the embassy. We believe that Ivan is an intelligence officer and has been conducting espionage as well as using his diplomatic immunity to commit murder.”
“You haven’t been able to make him talk?”
“No we haven’t.”
I sighed.
“Ivan is not his name, he is not a driver, he is a sadist and he really enjoys the pain of others. This man is, by my definition, evil.”
“Are there any questions you can think of asking that might get him to open up, even a little? I would dearly love to know precisely what he’s been up to and if possible, his embassy contacts as well as the names of anyone he might have recruited.”
I gave Wills a harsh look. “Are you planning on giving him back to his government?”
“No. Even if he never talks to us, he won’t be going back home.”
“Fine. Give me a fillet knife and get Jill the hell out of there. I’ll convince him to talk.”
I headed back down the stairs.
I didn’t give a damn about his spying activities. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about his network. He got off on kidnapping and killing. That was going to stop.
“Jill, go up stairs please. We won’t need you for a while. Mr. Jones, you and I are going to secure Ivan to the top of the table here.”
Jones grabbed his arms, I took his legs and we tossed Ivan onto the table. I jumped up and landed heavily on his belly, knocking the wind out of him. Jones unlocked his cuffs, then locked on arm to a table leg, reached behind him and came up with a second set of cuffs and locked his other arm to a table leg. Moving around to the other end of the table he removed one cuff from around an ankle, looped it beneath the table and reconnected it to Ivan’s ankle.
“Thank you Mr. Jones. Ivan and I are going to require a few moments alone.”
Jones closed the door behind him.
I sat down in the chair Jill had been in earlier, and kicked the one I’d been away so that it ended up beneath the two-way mirror.
“Ivan, and I know that’s not your real name…you are a spy, a kidnapper, a murderer and probably a rapist. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” I looked at him thrashing around on the table top.
“Answer me when I talk to you!” I snarled at him, flooding my link to him with flaming agony. I stood up, knocking the chair over, reached beneath the table and with all my strength I lifted and heaved so that the table rose up and flipped over, the entire weight of table landing on Ivan’s face, upper body and knees when it came down. I heard a muted groan from beneath the overturned table.
“Where is the knife I asked for? If I don’t get a knife, I’m going to end up using my hands and it’s gonna take a lot longer and be a lot more painful for Ivan.” I snapped at the mirror.
There was a faint knock at the closed door. I stepped on the table, stood for a moment or two, then went to the door and opened it. Jill handed me a one piece full tang fillet knife, probably from the kitchen upstairs.
“Thank you. Please, don’t watch this.” I pulled the door closed and returned to my interview.
I looked over my shoulder at the mirror as I passed it.
“Edward, if you’re running a camera of any kind, turn it off. If you are audio taping, turn it off. Right now! Because if I ever find there are films or recordings of this I will hunt you down and make you wish you were our friend Ivan here. Understand me? That goes for everyone in this house.”
I moved to the table and hauled it and the man attached to it upright. I waved the thin blade in front of his eyes and sent another torrent of agony down the link.
“Alright, Ivan, let’s talk.”
Half an hour later, and with surprisingly little bloodshed on Ivan’s part, he began to answer each and every question I asked him, in clear, concise and unaccented English.
He confessed to being a spy, running a network of agents in and around the D.C. area, and being a serial murderer and rapist of young women. He gave us the names of his supervisors, his network agents and contacts, and the names of the seven women he’d kidnapped, raped and killed, as well as the locations where their bodies were buried.
Once Ivan (his real name turned out to be Michael) had spilled his guts I stood up, wiped the blood from my face and faced the mirror.
“I need a shower. You guys can clean this mess up. Mikey here will live, for the time being. I’d suggest rounding up the names, and sending the FBI to the burial sites ASAP, before you tidy up all the way. But that’s just a suggestion. I’m done.” I said tiredly.
Picking up my pea coat I left the basement and went looking for the nearest shower.
I stepped out of the shower, dried off and got dressed. I headed downstairs and ended up in the living room. Jill was sitting alone in an old fashioned wing back chair in front of the fireplace watching the flames.
I sat down on a small loveseat next to the fireplace. She looked up at me and blinked quickly.
“You struck me at first as a very soft-spoken and gentle person. More of an intellectual.”
“Normally that’s what I am. Or what I would prefer to be.”
“Are you a contractor? Do you hire out for this kind of thing?”
“No. I’m…it’s complicated. I used to be a CID agent. I got a reputation for being to able to get answers from suspects that others couldn’t.”
“By doing what you did today?” she seemed repulsed by the idea.
“No. I’ve interviewed dozens before but this is the first time I’ve done anything like this to a suspect to get answers.”
“Does it bother you at all?”
I leaned back and extended my legs out fully.
“Ethically, no. Morally, yes. Our friend down there is more than just a spy, Jill. He’s a serial killer and rapist. He kidnapped those women, tortured them, raped and then killed them and hid their bodies. And even knowing all that I’m not proud of what I did. And I sure didn’t enjoy it.”
Dr. Wills and Mr. Jones walked into the room.
“Ike, are you ready to go?” Wills asked.
“Oh yeah.” I got up and put on my coat and pulled the stocking cap over my hair. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, Jill.”
The three of us walked out of the house, got into Wills’ car
and headed off into the snowy evening. By my watch it was
We were all silent for the first few miles before Wills finally broke the silence.
“I understand the Army is processing you for medical retirement.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
“Why would they willingly get rid of an intelligence officer with your abilities?”
“I’m not an officer. I’m an NCO. And you read the file. I talked to myself for hours and answered back. There were witnesses. If you want my professional opinion, they’re scared to death I’ll snap and start randomly killing. I’ve already shown a willingness and knack for killing, and while that might be an asset during wartime, it’s a decided liability the rest of the time. That’s what I think.”
“I would have to agree with your analysis.” Jones grunted his agreement from behind the wheel.
“Ike, I’d like to offer you a position with the CIA.”
“No. I’ve had enough of killing.”
“Hear me out. The position I’m going to offer you is as my deputy. You won’t be required to kill. You won’t be a field agent. You won’t even be required to carry a gun.”
“Uh-huh. What exactly is it that you do, Doctor?”
“My official title is Deputy Director of Internal Security. What we do is look for moles, double agents, information leaks…things of that nature. We evaluate the data coming into the Agency from our sources and agents all over the world; compare it to data that gets disseminated to various other government agencies, in and outside the U.S. as well as information gathered by the NSA and other agencies and then we look for trends. Most of the time it’s very tedious and boring work, with little in the way of recognition or thanks. It’s not unlike Internal Affairs in any civilian police force. But it is important.”
“I’ll grant that it’s important work. But why me? Never mind, I know why me. That was
a stupid question. Why me as your deputy? I don’t know a damn thing
about the CIA or how it works. I’m not a graduate of
Wills grinned widely.
“Usually. Internal Security is the exception. You are correct; most Deputy Directors are appointed from within by the CIA director. But we have to be as independent as possible, because of what we do. As mole hunters and counter espionage specialists, we have to exist slightly outside the normal chain. Because we could, in theory, end up investigating even the Director. Each DD of Internal Security comes from outside the CIA. No career operatives, agents or analysts. And each DD selects his own successor, brings him in and teaches him the ropes…enough so he won’t hang himself anyway. So the position I’m offering you is understudy to me. When I feel you’re ready to take over, and I’m ready to retire, you’ll be the new Deputy Director.”
I thought about his offer. I twisted it around and looked at it from as many different angles as I could.
“I’d like to be able to go back to college and finish my degree.”
“Not a problem. In fact I would encourage you to
continue and take a Masters and even a PhD if you wanted. I think I can
guarantee you a place at
“Alright, Doctor. I’ll give it some thought. One way or the other, I’ll let you know my answer by the end of the month.”
“Fair enough.”
We were all silent for the rest of the trip back to Walter Reed. Jones pulled up to the front lobby doors and I got out.
“Thank you, Sergeant Blacktower. You do damn fine work.” Dr. Wills said, shaking my hand.
“And thank you, Mr. Jones, for putting up with me.” I said to the man in the driver’s seat.
“You’re welcome, sir.”
I watched them pull away and drive off. I looked at the card in my hand. I was sorely tempted to shred the thing and toss the pieces out into the falling snow. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I slipped it into the inner pocket of the pea coat, turned around and headed inside.