by Matt Stark
Sam looked back down the corridor toward the closed interview door. His gut still told him the answer was in that room – the suspect, Serina. Suddenly Sam knew he had to speak to Serina now, before Suzie returned, or he might never get to the truth. But his Level 3 key card would not open the interview room door. And there was no point in trying to pick the lock and force his way in. Those doors were two-inch-thick steel. He ran his hand through his hair, aware Suzie could come out of Peter’s office any second. There was only one way in: a Level 5 key card. He could try to take Suzie’s but she’d know Sam only wanted it to interrogate Serina – and Suzie had already said no to that. So she’d resist, and Sam didn’t want to take it by force and risk hurting her. But with Suzie’s card ruled out where the fuck would he get…
Brian.
But Brian wouldn’t just hand his card over – and Sam didn’t want to hurt him either if he could help it. He rubbed his hand over his forehead then clicked his fingers. He had it. The key cards weren’t used only for access to secure areas of the building. You needed one to get onto the JIS database. Each PC had a security card slot. You had to put your card into the slot to even switch it on – and access to the extensive JIS database required a Level 5 card. Sam ran back toward Brian’s desk.
When he got back Brian was hunched over his PC – his key card hanging on a lanyard around his neck. Sam sat on the edge of Brian’s desk.
“Brian, I’ve been thinking about the New Dawn attacks. I think they’re similar to a case I was working on before I went away.”
Brian glanced up.
“You’re starting to remember then?”
Sam tried to look as innocent as possible. He had to play this just right.
“Not much – just a few flashes, here and there. To be honest it’s more of a gut instinct. Anyway I thought it was worth following up. And I wanted to check the database, but I don’t have clearance. Do you think I could borrow your card?”
It wasn’t the most subtle con by far, but he’d had no time to think up anything more convincing.
Sam had Brian’s full attention now. He’d leaned back in his chair, and was already shaking his head before Sam finished his pitch.
“I’m sorry, Sam, but Peter would string me up if I gave you that key card.”
Brian was a nice guy. He seemed genuinely embarrassed to have to refuse Sam. But a nice no was still a no. Sam glanced at the clock on the wall behind Brian. He’d already used up two of the five minutes he’d allotted himself to get Brian’s card. If he couldn’t persuade Brian, he have to use force, because one way or another he was getting it.
He gave Brian a hundred-watt smile.
“Come on, Brian, Peter doesn’t need to know.”
Brian crossed his arms.
“I can’t, Sam.” His voice was more determined this time.
Sam clenched his fist but made sure to keep his face neutral. Not for the first time he wished he had his ability back again. Reading Brian’s mind would have been so much easier than this. But his ability was firmly switched off and that left him just one option. He slid off Brian’s desk and stretched out his hand.
“Give me the card, Brian.”
Brian started to get out of his chair, but Sam pushed him back. Then, keeping one hand firmly on Brian’s chest, he leaned under the desk. Masses of cables were plugged into a row of power sockets. He pulled out a bundle of cables, then turned back to Brian.
“What are you doing, Sam?” he said in a shaky voice.
He looked confused and hurt. Sam felt like he was abusing his grandmother.
“I’m sorry about this, Brian.”
Sam tied Brian’s wrists together with one cable, keeping his arms in front so he’d be more comfortable. Then he tied his ankles to the chair legs. Brian struggled violently. Sam let him, knowing he’d soon tire himself out. Sam grabbed a Leatherman knife and jumbo roll of Sellotape from Brian’s desk. God knew what Brian needed them for but they would come in very handy for Sam. He pocketed the Leatherman and wound tape around Brian’s torso and the chair until he was trussed up like a turkey. His legs got the same treatment. Finally he taped Brian’s mouth, making sure his nostrils were clear. He didn’t want to kill the poor bastard. Brian’s eyes were wide, but at least he’d stopped struggling. Sam patted Brian on the head trying to reassure him, but that didn’t stop him feeling like a shit.
“I’m sorry about this Brian.”
But he’d had no choice. Suzie’s words were still running around his head. Jesus, I hate lying to him.
Sam grabbed Brian’s security card and pulled until the lanyard snapped.
“Suzie will be along soon to untie you,” he said, trying to ignore the pained look in Brian’s eyes.
Sam ran across the deserted office, into the interview suite and down the corridor toward Interview Room One. Holding his breath he slid the card through the reader. The door’s lock clicked open and he walked in. Serina was sitting on the far side of a metal desk. A small table with a plastic water jug and two paper cups sat in one corner of the room, but otherwise the room was empty. Serina was cuffed to the table. She looked up at Sam as he came in. Sam had expected her to be surprised, but her face was blank. He ignored her and turned back to the door. His priority was securing it before Suzie returned, so he and Serina weren’t disturbed.
There was a panel next to the door. Moving quickly he unscrewed the top with Brian’s Leatherman. Underneath was a motherboard, and a bundle of wires. Not sure where to start he considered just battering it, but that was just as likely to leave the door unlocked as locked. He found two red wires, cut the plastic insulation cover and, turning his head away, brought them together. There was a crackle as the short circuit blew out the electronics. A second later there was a bang on the door, then a shout muffled by two inches of steel.
“Sam, what the hell are you doing?”
He pictured Suzie’s angry face. There was nothing else he could do now. He’d apologize later. Unless of course Suzie was lying to him, in which case maybe she’d be the one doing the apologizing. He shook his head – mentally detaching himself as best he could. He had to focus on the suspect now. Find out why Peter and Suzie didn’t want her to talk to him.
Ignoring the banging on the door Sam went back to the table, sat down opposite Serina, and looked into her dark brown eyes. She didn’t look at him. Most people would have been a little shaken up by what was happening, but she seemed indifferent.
“My name is Sam Barrick,” he said.
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were focussed on a point somewhere over his left shoulder, like she had somewhere better to be. Sam had to change that. He had to get her attention.
***
There was a clear plastic evidence bag on the table. Sam could see a purse, and a packet of cigarettes, and a flash of silver through the plastic. It must have been what Serina was carrying when Suzie picked her up. He supposed there was a very slim chance it contained something useful. It was as good a place as any to start
He pulled the bag towards him, opened it and tipped out the contents, keeping one eye on Serina. Her face was impassive, her big brown eyes still looking somewhere over Sam’s shoulder, as if she had no interest in him, or what he was doing. Sam spread the items on the table. A worn black leather purse, a packet of Benson and Hedges cigarettes, and a silver Zippo lighter. That was it – no phone. He picked up the purse and rifled through it. He found an ATM card with the name Serina Farhi, a driver’s licence, and twenty pounds in cash. He kept an eye on her as he searched, to see if she looked nervous. But she was totally unruffled. He pulled out a few more credit cards, emptying the purse, and put it back on the table.
He looked at Serina. Not sure how to start. For a moment he doubted himself again. Had he really heard Suzie’s thoughts? Maybe he’d hallucinated them. Right now he wasn’t sure what was up or down, so it was possible. No – he’d seen it in Suzie’s eyes. He’d felt her fear. She had been desperate to keep him away from Ser
ina. But whether Suzie lied to you or not you’re jeopardising lives by interfering with the interrogation. Stopping New Dawn is more important than your personal agenda. He pushed the unwelcome thought away. He had to know what the fuck was going on.
“What do you know about me?”
She said nothing. She didn’t even look at him – her eyes still focussed on a point over his left shoulder.
“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t talk to you?”
It was a stupid question. She looked at him, confused. He realized then she didn’t know who he was – he could see it in her eyes. So why would she know what Peter and Suzie were hiding? And there was another problem with Sam’s strategy. He was jeopardising lives. Trying to solve his personal mystery at the expense of hundreds of lives wasn’t something he could do – was it? He didn’t think so. He didn’t think he was that kind of person. At least he didn’t want to be. He blew out a breath. For now he was going to have to forget that Peter and Suzie might be lying to him. He had to do his best to stop New Dawn. And that meant breaking Serina. He could worry about Peter and Suzie later. Sam felt his tense shoulders relax a little. He felt better – lighter somehow now he’d made the decision. He looked at Serina.
“Where is the attack?”
She didn’t respond. She would have been an excellent waxwork dummy. Sam held her gaze but inside he was panicking. Breaking Serina in time to stop the attack wasn’t going to be easy. Time was on her side and she knew it. She was a fanatic; one of the hardest people to break. Suddenly feeling agitated he pinched the bridge of his nose. This was all wrong. Wasn’t the suspect supposed to be the one under pressure, not the interrogator? For a moment he froze, not knowing what to say, then he just started to speak hoping he’d come up with something.
“Look, I want to make this quick. I know who you are. I know you’re planning an attack in London in the next two hours. I want you to tell me the attack location, so I can stop innocent people dying.”
He leaned forward.
“Surely you want that as well?”
Her eyes flicked towards his for a moment like she was saying Is that all you have? before darting back to their original position, looking over Sam’s left shoulder.
Sam’s mind was racing. He had led MI5’s interrogation team but that was over ten years ago. His most recent experience of interrogation was at the hands of Deep Throat and his mates. But he could hardly remember any of that. And anyway being on the other side of it, while it gave him a deep understanding about what it was to be interrogated, wasn’t the same as leading an interrogation.
He had to go back to basics.
MI5 used an escalating scale of threats designed to increase the pressure on suspects. First came physical pressure, to soften up and disorientate them. Sam remembered how listening to three hours of disco music at 100 decibels, while standing in a stress position during his basic training, had nearly driven him crazy. Real suspects – especially potential terrorists – had it even worse. They were kept thirsty and hungry, put in stress positions and humiliated for days as a prequel to the real interrogation. If pain didn’t work the interrogator moved on to the next stage: money. The thought of a few hundred grand squirreled away in a bank account might be enough to keep a suspect from breaking. But bank accounts could be frozen, funds removed – a life’s savings blown away in seconds. And after money came friends, reputation and family. The suspect’s life could be dismantled piece by piece until there was nothing left for them to cling to.
Usually there was time to expose prisoners to those different tactics in stages. But in this case there wasn’t. Sam had two hours to make this woman talk. He looked at her again. He could feel the contempt radiating off her. People like Serina thought everyone should follow their extreme brand of Islam or die. There was no tolerance, no compromise. And her fanaticism made a bad situation even worse. Despite what Sam had said to Suzie he knew two hours was nowhere near enough time to break someone like Serina.
He tapped his foot on the concrete floor. There was always the option of drugs. If time was short MI5 were happy to use pharmaceuticals to get information. Scopolamine was the favourite back in Sam’s day. It wasn’t pretty but it worked. But drugs weren’t an option for Sam today. He tapped his foot again. That left torture. Whatever the official line, MI5 had used torture routinely. Sam knew the techniques: waterboarding, electric shocks and so on, but he wasn’t going to use any. Not because he didn’t know how. He did. But because it didn’t work. The information was unreliable at best. And Sam didn’t have time to filter through the lies to find one grain of truth. Plus some part of him balked at making another human being suffer like that.
He tapped his foot again thinking how strange it was that he could remember how to waterboard and worse but couldn’t remember making love to Suzie. He looked at Serina’s calm brown eyes. Sometimes the threat of pain was more effective than the real thing. It was a long shot – especially with a fanatic like Serina, but it was all he could think of right now.
He picked up the packet of Benson and Hedges, opened it and offered her one.
“Cigarette?”
She didn’t answer.
He put the cigarette box back down again.
“I was in a Chinese prison for ten years,” he said quietly.
He let the words hang there for a moment before pressing on.
“You know what the Chinese do to their prisoners?”
The skin between her dark brown eyes folded. She seemed more confused than frightened. Either she didn’t know what he was getting at – which he doubted – or she was puzzled that a JIS agent would threaten to torture her in such a roundabout way. Either way his bluff had failed.
He got up, went over to the table in the corner, and poured water into one of the paper cups. He tipped the contents down his parched throat, then refilled the cup and went back to Serina, placing the cup on the table as he sat down. Sam tapped his foot. This wasn’t going well. So far his interrogation had yielded exactly squat. Serina was sitting calmly with her hands on her lap, her face relaxed. Of the two of them, she was by far the more in control.
Then it hit him. Suzie was right, he wasn’t ready. After all he’d been through he should be taking it easy, not trying to save the world. He shouldn’t have to… Sam stopped himself. As he recognized self-pity, he gave himself a mental kick, and brought his mind back to Serina.
He picked up the purse again, not really sure why. As he did he thought he saw Serina’s cheek twitch out of the corner of his eye. He looked up but her face was expressionless and her eyes were focussed on that point over his shoulder. Sam frowned. It was all over in a split second but he was sure he’d seen her cheek twitch. Had he missed something? He opened the purse and searched it again, but it was empty. Just as he was about to put it back down he noticed a small pocket hidden in the lining. It was too tight for his fingers. He had to use the smallest blade on Brian’s Leatherman to pull out the three-inch-square photograph wedged inside. It showed a smiling man of about forty and two laughing children playing in an outdoor swimming pool on a sunny day.
Sam’s heart sped up. Family. The interrogator’s trump card. Threaten someone’s wife, husband or kids and nine times out of ten they’d fold. But Serina Farhi? He didn’t know. She had a cause. Was her faith in it greater than her love for her family? Sam looked from the photo to Serina, letting the silence do its job. He didn’t want to use her daughters against her – they were innocent – but he and Serina both knew he had no option. The only question was, would she put their safety above her hatred of the West?
Sam slid the photo back to the centre of the table. The kids, both girls, had dark curly hair and big brown eyes like their mother. They would grow up to be beautiful. You could see the pride in their father’s eyes.
“You have a lovely family.”
There was no missing the twitch in Serina’s cheek this time. The spasm had lasted less than a second, but she couldn’t undo it. Sam felt elate
d. He’d found Serina’s weak spot. Maybe he could break her in time.
“We can get to them,” he said in a low, even voice.
Serina refocussed her big brown eyes on his. They were so full of hate he almost flinched.
“You can’t hurt them.”
She thought there wasn’t time.
“Maybe not before the bomb goes off – but afterwards we can. Serina, I assure...”
She leaned forward – her pupils suddenly like pinpricks.
“You can’t hurt them now, Sam Barrick, because you already murdered them.”
The words hung in the air for a long moment. Sam struggled to keep the shock out of his face, but didn’t think he succeeded. Had JIS really killed those two girls? Had Peter sanctioned it? He pushed the questions away. But he was still left with the biggie. What the hell was he going to do now?
“You’re almost out of time, Mr Barrick.” She had a bitter smile on her face.
Not sure what to do next he got up. “Water?”
She shook her head. At least she was responding to him now. Anyway he needed a drink whether she did or not. He went and poured himself another cup.
Just over an hour to go. She was right, I’m running out of time – and getting desperate.
The banging on the door had long since stopped. Sam guessed Suzie had told Peter. They’d be back soon. But he’d blown the electronics, so the only way anyone was getting in was with a blowtorch or explosives. He had a little time and wasn’t quite ready to give up yet.
He went back to the desk, sat down and took a sip of his water.
“What are you hoping to achieve with this?”
Serina fixed her eyes on his.
“Justice,” she said, her voice like acid.
He frowned, surprised she’d answered. He’d been expecting more silence now that he’d blown his trump card. Now he had to keep her talking and hope she’d let something slip.