And to dissuade her from trying to tell us what she thinks we want to hear, Kitty added, mentally. Torture rarely works well because the victim will eventually start lying to us, just to get the pain to stop.
Her earpiece buzzed. “We should have enough for a baseline now,” William Ross said. He was not only a skilled interrogator himself, Kitty recalled; he was an expert in how human beings reacted to stress. “She’s currently trying very hard to keep herself from panicking.”
“Continue to record her reactions,” Kitty subvocalised. She peered down at Hannalore for a long moment, pushing any guilt she might have felt out of her mind. Hannalore might look young, innocent and the victim, but she had betrayed the Commonwealth. “I will move on to more serious issues.”
She reached down and lifted Hannalore’s chin until the older woman was staring up into her eyes. “You have outfitted your mansion with bugs, in order to record what your guests say or do and forward the information to Wolfbane,” she said. “Is this true?”
“No,” Hannalore said. “I want a lawyer!”
“She’s lying,” Ross said, through the earpiece. “I got a very strong ping there, Colonel.”
“I know you’re lying,” Kitty said, aiming to sound saddened rather than angry. “There is really no point in trying to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” Hannalore screamed. “Get me a goddamned lawyer!”
“Still lying,” Ross said. “She isn't even sure she wants a lawyer.”
Hannalore glared up at Kitty, who met her stare evenly. “I want my husband,” she snapped. “He’ll see to it that you're the next one in this damned chair ...”
“I rather doubt it,” Kitty said. She knelt down until her head was level with Hannalore’s skull. “Let me be blunt.
“We have gathered enough evidence to convince a judge to authorise your detention,” she said. “Now, we have interrogated you under a lie detector and ...”
“The lie detector is lying,” Hannalore protested.
“She’s lying,” Ross said.
“Shut up,” Kitty subvocalised. She cleared her throat and spoke out loud. “Hannalore, we have the evidence necessary to put you in front of a court on a charge of espionage. There is a war on. Even if there wasn't, do you think the councillors you used as unwitting sources of information would stand up and defend you? They’d be screaming for the maximum penalty.”
Hannalore jerked against her cuffs, but said nothing.
“Right now, your only hope is to do enough for us to earn ... a reduction in your sentence,” she added. “Do that for us and we can make a deal. Refuse ... and we will have to put you before the court!”
“This is illegal,” Hannalore protested. “You can't strip a prisoner naked ...”
“You’re a spy and a traitor,” Kitty said. She rose to her feet. “I’m going to leave you for the moment. When I come back, you can decide if you want to cooperate or not. If the former, expect to be spending considerable amounts of time answering plenty of questions. If the latter ... well, the cell will be your home for the foreseeable future.”
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her firmly, then walked to the observation chamber. Leaving Hannalore alone wasn't a big risk; she was cuffed, barely able to do more than rattle her shackles, and naked. Even so, she was still under constant observation. Two pairs of eyes would be peering at her at all times.
“The baseline seems to be working perfectly,” Ross said, as she entered the chamber and sat down. “There’s no hint she has any form of training to resist interrogation, Colonel.”
Kitty wasn't surprised. Hannalore had been a society queen - or at least she’d tried to be - rather than a soldier or an intelligence agent. It didn't keep her from being dangerous, but it did ensure she had little formal training. Wolfbane would have been happier if she had, Kitty suspected, yet how could they have trained her without sending up red flags?
“That’s good to hear,” Kitty said. “Although if you could keep the flippancy out of the airwaves in future ...”
“My machines don’t lie,” Ross protested. “Really.”
“I know that,” Kitty said, tartly.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and watched Hannalore closely. The woman seemed to have sagged in on herself, her breasts rising and falling in a manner that suggested she was on the verge of crying. Kitty felt a flicker of pity, but knew she couldn't allow it to dictate her actions. Hannalore had betrayed her planet and was responsible for God knew how many deaths.
Bitch, she thought coldly.
Kitty gave it nearly thirty minutes before she rose to her feet and walked back into the interrogation chamber. Hannalore’s face was streaked with tears, tears she couldn't wipe away because her hands were cuffed, smearing her makeup and leaving her face looking ghastly. Kitty sighed inwardly, then peered down at her prisoner.
“I assume you’ve made a choice,” she said. “What do you choose?”
Hannalore blinked, trying to get the tears out of her eyes. “What are you offering me if I choose to cooperate?”
Kitty frowned. Clearly, Hannalore had managed to use some of the time she’d been given to gather herself and think. It would have been admirable if it hadn't been so serious - and irritating. Still, she made a show of giving the question serious consideration.
“Your life,” she said, finally. “You would be transported to a farming world, along with your husband, if he chooses to accompany you. It would not be an easy life, but it would beat being on a penal world or simply having your neck snapped on a gallows.”
“It would be impossible,” Hannalore sneered. “I can't farm to save my life.”
“You could always remain in your cell,” Kitty said. “I dare say we could find enough bread and water to feed you for a few years.”
She shrugged. “I can throw in a small amount of money too,” she offered. “You’d have the best opportunity to launch your farm I could give you.”
Hannalore hesitated. “Very well,” she said, after a long pause. “What do you want to know?”
Kitty stepped backwards. “You will be asked question after question after question,” she said. “You will answer them as comprehensively as possible. Should you fail to answer, or be caught in a lie, the deal is off. There won’t be a second chance. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Hannalore said.
“Good,” Kitty said. “Now ...”
She bombarded Hannalore with questions for nearly an hour, then stood and walked out of the chamber. Hannalore had been truthful, as far as Ross could tell, but she didn't actually know very much. The person who’d contacted her had never been seen again; Kitty had a suspicion he was either underground or had simply left the planet as soon as he’d completed his mission. And Gaston ... as far as she knew, Gaston was her sole contact, rather than anything else. There didn't seem to be any plans to recover contact if something happened to him.
“She’s still talkative, but she’s reluctant to tell you everything,” Ross informed her. “I’ll have an analysis on your desk tomorrow morning.”
“Understood,” Kitty said. She glanced at Olivier and Rupert, two more intelligence officers who specialised in looking like thugs. “Take her to her cell and search her again, then release her hands and let her sleep until I call her in the morning.”
The two men nodded. By the time they had finished, Kitty knew, Hannalore wouldn't have any certainty of anything, apart from the fact her life had turned upside down. Keeping her off-balance was the only way to ensure she didn't try to outthink them ... which she would, eventually.
And we can't keep her for very long either, she thought, darkly. Not if we want her to keep passing information to the bad guys.
Rising to her feet, she walked out of the complex and took the elevator to the lounge. It had been cleared, at the Colonel’s instructions, so he could talk to the Governor in relative privacy. When she entered, Kitty saw the Colonel sitting in front of a table and the G
overnor lying on the sofa, fast asleep. An opened bottle stood on the table, looking tantalisingly welcome.
“I assume you told him everything,” Kitty said, as she sat down facing Colonel Stalker. “What happened?”
“He took it badly,” the Colonel said. He picked up the bottle and poured Kitty a glass. “I eventually resorted to insisting he used a sleeping pill.”
“I hope you checked it wasn't one that reacted badly with alcohol,” Kitty said. “It wouldn't do to kill him.”
The Colonel nodded. “It would just put him out for a few hours,” he said. “By the time he awakes, the alcohol should have cleared his body.”
Kitty nodded, then lifted her glass and took a sip. She’d never been much of a drinker, not on her salary, but she had to admit the alcohol tasted fine on her tongue. Something smoky, with a hint of fire ... she cursed under her breath as she realised her mind was wandering and put the glass down before it affected her more than it already had. The Colonel, like all Marines, wouldn't be able to get more than a mild buzz from it, no matter how much he drank. It was quite possible he hadn't realised how strong it was.
Or maybe you’re just too tired to think clearly, her thoughts added. You need your bed too.
“We did the preliminary interrogation, sir,” she said. “She’s guilty. None of her permanent staff are guilty, but they were both hired after confirming they didn't have the knowledge to detect or remove the bugs. The rigged privacy generators themselves came from Wolfbane, along with their control systems. She chose what was forwarded up the chain.”
“Weak design,” the Colonel observed. “They must have trusted her.”
“They knew that beaming information out of a building in the middle of Camelot would be noticed,” Kitty said. Given their inherent limitations, and the problems of operating in enemy territory, Wolfbane had done a very good job. She would have been impressed if she hadn't been so irked. Lives had been lost, others had been ruined ... because one idiotic social queen hadn't been able to endure the loss of her power and position. “I suspect they weren't too happy with it.”
She sighed. She needed bed; no, she needed a man, someone who could make her forget herself for a few hours. Or a woman. She wasn't picky ... she considered, briefly, just trying to make a visit to a bar, then pushed the thought aside. She’d be better off with a sleeping pill herself.
Because you could never be honest with anyone, she thought, morbidly. She’d had lovers, in the years since she’d been dumped on Avalon, but none of them had lasted. It had been impossible to be honest with them. So many spies start fucking other spies because no one else understands what they go though.
“I’ll make her the offer tomorrow,” she added. “We’ve got her talking now; tomorrow, we’ll try to get her to start sending crap to them. I don’t think she has much hope of being extracted by Wolfbane, not when she was such a problematic person. The Governor ... I hope he does well, sir. Apparently, he wasn't involved.”
“That’s good to hear,” the Colonel said. “But we do need to keep a sharp eye on them both. It won’t be a pleasant time for either of them.”
Kitty nodded, shortly. It never was. Betrayal was bad enough, but the Governor would be hurting badly. He’d supported the Commonwealth as much as he could, even after he’d lost his power. To find his wife had been undermining it ...
“Poor bastard,” she muttered. “I’ll have him moved to a proper room?”
“Make sure you take care of him,” the Colonel ordered. “He didn't deserve this.”
“No,” Kitty agreed. “He didn't.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Worse, perhaps, their reputations would be destroyed. The Empire’s propaganda departments would work hard to turn former rebel leaders into monsters, charging them with everything taboo to the societies they’d struggled to defend. Even when such claims were not believed, they raised doubts - and doubts were the last thing a resistance organisation needed.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Empire and its Prisoners of War.
Wolfbane System, Year 5 (PE)
“I think I hate you,” Pete said.
“I know,” Jasmine said. She’d ordered Pete and his extended family into the Passing Water, then secured most of them in one of the holds. It would keep them alive, but it would also keep them firmly under control. “And I am sorry.”
“We could help,” Pete offered, as she motioned him into the hold. “I could assist you ...”
“I can't take the chance,” Jasmine said. She waved him inside, then closed the hatch. “I’ll see you on the far side.”
She locked the hatch, then walked up to the bridge. Four CEF soldiers would remain on the ship to provide security, but the course had already been programmed into the computer. Jasmine would have preferred to leave Stewart - or even Frazier - on the ship, yet she knew it would have been far too risky. She needed Stewart in the shipyard and Frazier couldn't be trusted with the shit too close to hitting the fan. His behaviour might become dangerously unpredictable.
“I have the laser link established,” Gary said, as she walked in. “But the systems are very different to the ones I used to crack.”
“We’ll see what happens,” Jasmine said. She glanced over at Kailee, then smiled. “I will expect you to continue your exercises on the way to the phase limit and afterwards, or I will be forced to come back and haunt you.”
Kailee looked paler than usual. “You might not come back?”
“There’s a possibility,” Jasmine said. She wondered, briefly, about Watson. One way or the other, she probably wouldn't see him again until after the war. It was just something else for the Colonel to hold against her, when - if - she returned home. “But whatever happens, I don’t expect you to waste your lives. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Gary muttered. He rubbed his arm gently. “But it hurts.”
“It always does,” Jasmine said, quietly. Ironically, Gary would probably be safe on Avalon, even if he stopped doing exercises. He had skills the Commonwealth needed and the sort of lawlessness that had pervaded Earth wasn't tolerated there. But being able to defend himself would only improve his confidence in the long run. “You’ll be fine. Believe me.”
“Yeah,” Stewart agreed. “On my first day in Boot Camp, I moaned and groaned so much that my bunkmates threatened to cover me with salt.”
Kailee blinked. “Why salt?”
“It’s for zombies,” Gary said. He shook his head. “I thought they were just a myth.”
“Someone released a gas that turned a whole town into zombies once,” Jasmine commented, dryly. “Not real zombies, in the sense they were supernatural, but it turned them against everyone who hadn't been infected. The whole place was eventually firebombed to contain the outbreak.”
“Sounds like a nightmare,” Gary said. “Were you there?”
Stewart snickered. Jasmine shot him a glance.
“I’m twenty-five,” she said, irked. “The outbreak was over two hundred years ago. I read about it in the files.”
She sighed, inwardly. No one had ever uncovered the truth behind the outbreak, as far as she knew; officially, terrorists had been blamed, but the files had wondered if a biological weapon had got loose and then been covered up. It struck her as odd that they hadn't seen more outbreaks, if it was a terrorist weapon, yet she could see the logic in keeping it under wraps. The Empire’s willingness to just obliterate the infected had to have convinced them that the weapon was only of limited value.
Or maybe the whole town just cracked up one day, she thought. God knew she’d seen strange behaviour before, certainly from people who had been stressed beyond belief. A Civil Guard unit on Han had gone collectively mad, just after the fighting ended, and attacked a small village, looting, raping and killing the inhabitants. The stress got to them.
“Good luck,” she said, instead. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
She nodded to them both, then surprised herself by giving Kailee a gentle
hug. It had been nice to be appreciated, then asked for help; she hadn't realised just how badly she missed Mandy and her family until she’d started trying to teach Kailee. But then, Mandy had built a career of her own and Kailee ... had a long way to go. Coming to think of it, Kailee was actually a year older than Mandy ...
“Good luck,” Stewart echoed. “And don’t fuck up.”
He followed her through the airlock and back into the mining colony, down to where the ore freighter was docked. Taking it had been easy; there were only four crewmen onboard, two of which had been teenagers learning the ropes. Jasmine had dumped them on the Passing Water, once she’d been sure she knew how to handle the freighter, knowing the Wolves would take their anger out on them. It wouldn't be easy for the prisoners to have to adapt to the Commonwealth, but better that than being executed, just for being unfortunate enough to lose their ship to the wrong people.
Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10) Page 32