Mr Hook's Big Black Box

Kris Alexandros: The Interrogation

I woke up and my whole body was hurting. I was dizzy, and my mouth was dry. Maybe it was hurting even before I woke up; I think for a good number of minutes, the pain was the only thing I was aware of. I'd got one good shot against their leader, but these bully boys were the masters of putting the boot in.

After some time, I was aware of what was going on enough to open my eyes. The world spun around me for a moment. I was lying on wooden boards, which once I could focus turned out to be a desk. The mottled surface had been varnished, and had doodles idly scratched into it, and been varnished again, so many times. It was like something you'd expect to find in a high school, not a state of the art college of further education. I could make out enough of the surroundings to tell that we were in a classroom, but an undifferentiated one without posters on the wall to give any indication what department this was.

It would be the Exam Schools, I realised. Someone in this group was smarter than I'd expected. The Exam Schools had dozens of small to medium sized classrooms, well suited to taking exams for classes whose regular rooms had too many clues around the walls, or even permanent displays that could be used to cheat. The Exam Schools were in five different buildings around campus, above the admin offices, the library, the bars, and other buildings which didn't belong to any specific faculty. And perhaps the most important thing, if this was indeed one of those rooms: the Exam Schools buildings were well soundproofed, so that students taking examinations wouldn't be disturbed by music from the bar below, or cheering from the sports fields, or whatever other background noise there might be on campus.

That also meant that if they wanted to interrogate me further, there was a good chance nobody outside would hear me scream.

"He's awake," a voice behind me grunted. One of the thugs. Maybe the smart one, there was no way for me to tell. I tried to work it out using the information I already had, but my thoughts swirled and wouldn't stay still long enough to think about them. That really wasn't good; I knew from the safety briefings that if you hit someone's head hard enough to make them faint or become light headed, they should be in hospital as soon as was practical. Concussion was a kind of bruise on your brain, and like a bruise it would get worse before it got better.

"Well well," the leader's voice came from the other side of me, "Young Mister Alexandros wants to be a hero." His pronunciation was nothing like right, but I didn't feel up to correcting him. I could hear the pain in his voice as well, and that made me feel a little better. I just grunted, to let him know I'd heard. Maybe I should have stayed quiet, but I didn't want to miss out if he had something to say that might help me protect my friends.

"You're a ferret," he spoke with some difficulty, "Not a fighter, not a predator, looks like easy roadkill. But dangerous backed into a corner. Well, we won't make that mistake again. You hurt me, and that's unforgivable. But I'll give you one more second chance, because you're a useful bargaining chip for when I'm talking to your boss. We want that Box, and you know where it is. So, give us the answers we want, and I might not spread your brains all over the ceiling. Right?"

I tried to nod, but could barely move. I grunted, and tried to coax my tongue back into doing the job it had been designed for.

"Here's the way it's going to work, then. My name is Landry, but you can call me Sheriff. And you, I know who you are. I'll call you Ian, alright? Maybe you don't like that, but I don't care. It doesn't matter who you are, because I don't like you, and that means you don't matter. If you don't answer the questions right, maybe you'll die anyway, Ian." I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a superior smirk, or a wince of pain. But from the way his men dutifully laughed, I guessed this was Landry's idea of humour.

"First question, then," he carried on talking. He really did love the sound of his own voice. "Where's the Box? We know you got the key, so who's looking after the Box?"