Time Sensitive Target

Part 20 - A Friendly Conversation

I could hear Rob and Ant approach from down the hall, their voices low with murmured conversation. I used my little finger to prize sleep from the corner of my eye and dismissed it from the tip of my nail. I'd had a terrible half slumber, only aided by a strong antihistamine Ant had seized from Rav. I needed a rest to "reset myself" he'd said. Now I just felt exhausted and nauseous, as though I'd woken in another time zone. I continued brushing my hair, which considering the lack of personal care supplies and some of the disgusting conditions I'd been in, wasn't all that bad. I'd always wanted to do that women's magazine experiment- Don't Wash Your Hair for Months- It Will Look Better Than Ever! I had fantasised about chopping it all off, just to feel radically different, but I knew I'd regret it after.

"Hey, there you are," Rob declared, he and Ant feigning smiles. I almost wanted to laugh at the charade, but I did appreciate it. 

"Right where you left me," I faked a tight lipped smile too, attempting light-hearted wittiness. 

"Right where we left you," Ant echoed flatly, seeing straight through to my sarcasm. "Did you get some rest?" 

"Kind of," I nodded, setting the brush on the concrete windowsill. 

"Good. How do you feel about having a chat with Jase?" 

How did I feel about having a chat with Jase? I'd considered this some in my hazy pharmaceutically aided doze. I was slightly afraid of him, and yet, I trusted him to do the right thing. I didn't like feeling as though he already had an opinion on what I might know. And then there was the cell block...

The image of Jase soaked from inflicting the same torture that had been the near death of me on more than a few occasions was burned into my mind. Had he enjoyed it? Was there some part of him that got off on controlling someone in that way? Of leading them to the brink of death and pulling them back again and again in systematic abuse? You didn't do this job if you couldn't compartmentalise and extract all emotion from those situations. Could he do the same with me? Of course he could, I laughed at myself inwardly. What a ridiculous thing to question. I was banking on an unconscious bias, for probably both my sex and my position as the captive they'd rescued. But then, I suppose Jase hadn't really done any of the rescuing. That was Rob, and Ant, and Rav, and the rest of the British. Sternly I reminded myself that Jase had spent more time protecting my captor. He was not on my side, and I needed to show I had nothing that was of any use to him. 

I cleared my throat and pressed down on the gauze across my wrists to soothe a deep itch from the healing. 

"I'm ready, let's go," I stood promptly and nodded brightly, hoping to convince myself. 

"Shall we have a chat about what kinds of questions they'll ask, what sort of things you think you'll try to remember?" Rob asked with a steady tone. 

"No, no, I'd rather get it over and done with. Besides I don't want to feel as though I've rehearsed anything and it not appear genuine, I'd rather avoid all suspicion," I replied, dodging their eyes. The room was silent for a moment.

"Ok, good. Let's go," Ant said eventually, moving from the doorway with a chivalrous extended hand to allow me to exit first, and lead the way to my interrogation. 

                                                                                                *

Jase wanted nothing less than for Paige to walk through the door. And then, at the same time, he felt his suspicions would be confirmed when she did. The building al-Raheem was held in had three additional rooms, the very last of which would have been the soft interrogation room. Prisoners would be brought there before enhanced tactics to give them the opportunity to divulge information in gentler surroundings. Three rusting chairs and a dilapidated table sat in the middle of the starkly lit room. He placed a laptop on the cracked surface, rereading the notes he'd made for the... he wasn't sure what to call it. Interview? Interrogation, the dark suit of logic reminded him.