Bad Blood (6Questions)

Day 30

My head is drawn up.

"Damian Carlow..."

I cock my brows and look to the side, suddenly unable to hide my smile. What a surprise. Not Louis, not another guy. A female interrogator. They really must have thought about it long before choosing the right person to deal with me.
"Doug Brasely, nice to meet you," I blink.

My hair starts to ache under her grip. She'll ruffle them, if there'll be any left after her intervention at all.
"Fun?" she frowns, letting go off my head eventually.

I suppress my twitching corners and look down at my wrist. Wow, one thirty, I really must have fallen asleep. That's an action of an innocent person, see, I look back up at the woman with unconcealed expectation. So what now? Forty-four hours left, how do we use them?
"I hope the fun part starts now. So far rather yawn, I have to say..."

"Let me tell you a secret, Mr. Carlow," she sits down across the table with theatrical importance, "innocent people don't get bored in this room, nor do they fall asleep. It's the reckless criminals like you who do."

"You think I'm a reckless criminal?" I study her face, bearing her attentive gaze. "Okay, then. That's for my introduction. Now who are you, ma'am?"

She gives a mean smirk. "Courtesy is really not our thing down here."

"It's kind of shame for a fine lady like you, isn't it?" I move my head to one side. "Anastazia?" I read from the pair of cold eyes in front of me. They light up with tight smile but not surprise.

"Lt. Lysenko to you, Mr. Carlow."

"Hm," I nod, trying to read more, "they had to call for help to faraway Russia?"

"Hungary, actually, that's where I work now. No connection to the Russian regime or their technics," she looks me in the eyes meaningfully, as if she was not at all ashamed of openly lying.

"I'm not convinced about Hungary either," I must admit. Or you, Anastazia Lysenko.

She raises her brows and leans back in her chair as if she had all the time in the world. "Were you rather looking forward to seeing Cpt. Carson?"

"Dead meat is not my thing."

She cocks her brows. "Now you're referring to Thomas Grieser who you shot the other day?"

I smile at the sudden twist of our conversation without any change in her tone or another forward warning. "I'm referring to our deal with Louis Carson that he'd drop all investigation."

She pouts scornfully. "So, you'll kill him now? That's how you deal with your opponents? That's your pattern?"

I shake my head with a peaceful smirk.

"Otto Prager. Thomas Grieser. Andrej Liska. Marianne Gill - now if we just asked her, would she deny it's the way this is done?"

"I think she would... -not tell you," I nod imprudently. You'd have to find her first. Then make her talk when she's on a thin ice...

Anastazia narrows her eyes. "Did Marianne drive your car away? ... Oh, really? So that's where it went. And that's where she disappeared. I thought you'd keep her at your side, it was surprising she wasn't with you, nor in your apartment..."

I examine her sarcastic face. Something's wrong.

"Something clearly is wrong," she blinks. "With you."

"Oh..."

"Oh," she pokes wicked fun, nodding at my inner unsure question in confirmation.

Holy shit.