Before 24 Billion and Counting

Chapter 22 Part 2 A bum's rush.

After a while during which I heard a small helicopter take off, I wondered what would happen next. I also realised that even though I had met Jacob and Will I knew nothing of their circumstances, and particularly what was happening to Jacob's family. 

I wanted to find out. 

I walked towards the door but before I reached it, it opened to reveal Collins, the Department of Inland Security man. 

"You won't get very far," he said with an amused smile,"why don't you sit down." 

He shut the door behind him but I caught a glimpse of one of Lopez's men standing guard.  

I sat down, and Collins took the seat previously occupied by Devlin. 

He looked at me. I suppose when the six of the General's party confronted us, the suited civilians resembled colourless bureaucrats beside the military with their pristine pressed uniforms and glittering badges of rank, and further I had been distracted by the presence of Devlin, and his menacing significance to Chris' account. 

Collins was slightly overweight, and could be taken for a family man. Balding, with darkish hair dragged across the shininess of his scalp underneath, dark blue eyes with crows feet, and a suggestion of humour lurking in his expression, was not a ruthless opponent like Devlin, or a mind constrained by military precision like the General. Meet him at a bar in an air terminal and you would have unhesitatingly struck up a temporary friendship to while away the time until your flight was called. 

And therein probably lay his strength. The ability to disarm - the good policeman in the good-cop bad-cop act. 

"Well," I said, "I guess you're relieved I don't wear a long tunic and a thick beard, am not brown and don't seek to pray five times a day." 

"Yes," he acknowledged,"it is an easier interview than some I have to do. I see you know how to put people at their ease." 

"It takes one to know one." 

"Hmm." 

"Before we start I need a comfort break." 

He got up, opened the door, and said to the soldier,"Take him to the can."  

I took refuge in a cubicle, and sat on the pan with my trousers down. It was a move to get me time to think, 'how did I play it from now?' 

But regretfully I could not see any way I could mould events. Every one of my actions was constrained by agencies with more power than I could muster. The only freedoms I had were those of analysing what others said or did, and controlling my tongue. I could ask questions but whether they would be answered was within the gift of others. I certainly did not have the clout to compel answers.  

My thoughts were interrupted by a rattling bang of the cubicle door with, "Berisford, OK in there?" 

Trying to infuse into my answer the emotions of momentary cheerfulness whilst suffering in my detention, I said "OK", rattled the paper dispenser, pulled my pants up and flushed the toilet. 

I emerged from the cubicle,"Come on there," said the soldier. 

I muttered,"Wash my hands." 

As I passed my soaped fingers under the hot water spray, and used the air drier, I reflected at the power that had constructed these elaborate functional elements in a few days on a bare plateau half way up a mountain. 

"Come on, come on," urged the soldier. 

"What's the rush?" 

"We ain't got time to waste on loonies like you lot."