Like A Fairytale

Chapter 49

Flo

A crying woman came out of one of the interrogation rooms. Alby clasped Flo's hand, all the tighter when a guard came out and invited her into the room. He looked at Alby as if she were a criminal. Alby stood up, trembling, and followed the man into the room.

Shortly afterwards, Flo was taken to the other room. He briefly exchanged a glance with the butler, who left the room. An Asian. The same man he had seen in the washroom.

The man smiled and nodded to Flo, which clearly displeased the security guard. He crossed his arms. "Don't make me wait."

Flo wanted to roll his eyes. He was not a criminal. Instead, he returned the butler's smile and then followed the bad-tempered security guard into the room.

"What do you actually do about the security personnel? Are all of you also being questioned? Were you questioned?" Flo asked nervously. "That must have been unpleasant. In case you have been questioned."

The room seemed to be a guest room. There was a bed in it, a magnificent cupboard, and a table with two chairs in front of a large window. On the table was a small wooden box. Small lamps glowed red, blue, and green, and a tape moved with the help of rattling gears. A recording device.

Several tapes lay on the floor. Some of them were labeled.

Flo sat down and looked at the device. It was somewhat similar to his Minnie box. "That looks old."

"I'll ask the questions," the man grumbled. He had gray hair and gray-blue eyes. His face was almost free of wrinkles. How old was he? Around forty? "It's an outdated device, but it's very useful. Tapes are not so easy to manipulate. We take this very seriously."

"Ah, good." Flo nodded. "So the one responsible has not yet been caught?" Was the man questioned or not? He hadn't answered this question, but Flo had the feeling that asking again wouldn't do him any good.

The man cleared his throat and pressed a button on the recording device. The green lamp flickered briefly. "I ask the questions! Schmidt-Klein. Interview with Flo Whitebloom. You're Flo Whitebloom?"

Flo nodded, intimidated. The way the man, Schmidt-Klein, spoke reminded him of growling.

"Please answer loud and clear. Are you Flo Whitebloom?"

"Yes."

"You were born in Burgstadt, lived on Level 3, and you are a scrap dealer by profession."

"Right."

"Did you plan the attack?" The man looked at Flo with a frown.

Flo shook his head in surprise. "No."

"Are you involved in it any way? Are you planning to overthrow the government?"

"What? No."

The man looked at him ironically and then struck the table with his fist. Flo instinctively backed away. "I ask again, are YOU, Flo Whitebloom, involved in the attack? If you don't confess now, there will be greater consequences."

"By attack, do you mean the power outage?" Stunned, Flo stared at the moving tape. "I have nothing to do with that. I was in the kitchen! Do you think it was me?" That couldn't be true.

Why was he suspected?

Or was everyone asked this question?

"Hm." Mr. Schmidt-Klein leaned back in the chair and looked at Flo. His shapelessness looked new and impeccable. "I want to be frank with you, boy. You are currently our prime suspect. Are you aware that terrorists threaten our country? Do you belong to the group? Do you have connections there?"