by Jerry Bruce
“This has been one very long day. Now that second shift is on duty, I think I’ll turn in.” Vale decided that he was more mentally drained than physically tired.
* * *
Richard had been tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep so upset was he with the possibility that all his preparation may have been for naught. He turned to his left and saw that Christine was also wide-awake with a worried look on her face.
“Can’t sleep either?”
“No, I didn’t think I would; I was hoping fatigue would set in and force me to get at least forty winks.” She edged over to Richard and rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you think we will be able to get through this and have some hope of leading normal, happy lives again?”
“Now that I have you in my life, I truly hope that we can. We can’t rule out the possibility that we do have the Controller under lock and key and we just aren’t able to prove it. Maybe Thornton’s agents will be able to get something definitive out of Wilkins before much longer.”
“I pray they do.”
* * *
Vale awoke from a good night’s sleep, something he hadn’t been able to do when confronted with an interrogation such as he needed to perform on Wilkins. Must have been the incessant dripping of the raindrops, he thought to himself. No matter, he was just glad to have been able to get some rest and avoid eight hours of thinking.
Vale and his team had been lax of late in the personal hygiene department so he had instructed all his men to shower and shave and he proceeded to do the same. He wanted Wilkins, now deprived of all but the required bathroom privileges, to see his captors fully refreshed and well groomed. He wanted every psychological advantage he could muster. Wilkins was getting healthy, though simple, food to sustain his well-being, but nothing that a conditioned palate would consider anywhere close to gourmet. The time for civility was long past, now he was going to suffer.
Vale went over again and again with his team the procedures they were going to follow during this phase of the interrogation. Each man knew his role and the significance of his carrying out every move exactly as required. Wilkins was going to be questioned primarily by Vale during the day, while Bradshaw would take the second shift, repeating the same questions and acting upon the observations noted by Vale. The only variation would be that which Vale decided was appropriate. The third shift would find Taylor playing the part of Wilkins’ overseer. He would allow Wilkins to have only fitful sleep, waking him every hour or so. Wilkins resistance would hopefully be diminished more and more with each passing hour. One thing was clear though, he would reveal the truth, it was only a matter of time.
* * *
Timothy Wilkins hadn’t had a decent nights sleep since being taken captive. Each night consisted of tossing and turning and occasionally, cold sweats. He had never had exposure to anything like this and was disoriented, not being able to gain his composure. Once he would start feeling the slightest bit comfortable, an interrogation would commence and throw him off again. He had no idea what would be happening from one minute to the next, something his captors were purposely cultivating. He didn’t know that this was merely the beginning of the worst ordeal anyone could imagine.
* * *
“I would like to say that this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you but I would be lying.” Vale looked Wilkins in the eyes as he made the statement. “This is your last chance to tell me what I want to know.”
“There is nothing to tell. I’ve answered all your questions a hundred times.”
Vale motioned to Bradshaw with a nod of his head. Bradshaw brought a plank over to the bed and placed it alongside Wilkins. With one hand, Bradshaw easily rolled Wilkins onto his side, slipped the plank under his captive, and rolled Wilkins over onto his back.
Vale started talking as he tied Wilkins down on the plank, securing both wrists and ankles and his waist, following that with a cloth sack over the head. “We call this a ‘waterboard’. It doesn’t usually force its subjects to tell all but it does do one very important thing.”
“What might that be?” Wilkins was somewhat defiant and flippant, obviously unaware of what was to follow.
“It says to you that this is the least painful thing that is going to happen to you.”
Leaving that with Wilkins to mull over, Vale called in Nelson to help Bradshaw and him move the board. The three agents stood the board upright, propping it against the wall and positioning it so that Wilkins’ was in an inverted position—head down, feet up. With a dismissing wave from Vale, Bradshaw and Nelson left the room, closing the door behind them. If they didn’t see what went on in the room, they couldn’t attest to it in a courtroom.
Wilkins could feel the blood rushing from his feet, followed by light-headedness as it rushed down through his arteries to his head. His heart started pumping faster to force blood back up his legs and faster still from the fear induced adrenalin rush. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart, all other sounds, even the heavy rain outside, couldn’t break through the repetitious thumping.
Vale gave Wilkins a few seconds to wallow in the confusion before proceeding to the next step. As Vale placed a large pail below Wilkins head, making sure it was clanging about, Wilkins mind raced trying to comprehend what was taking place. Suddenly it dawned on him, Vale said ‘waterboard’, was Vale going to lower him into a bucket of water? Was he going to be drowned?
Wilkins heard the clang of another pail in the bathroom followed by running water as though the bathtub was being filled. What was Vale doing? What was he going to do? Wilkins’ confused mind was racing, trying to make some semblance of sense out of what he could hear but not see.
Vale returned and set the sloshing pail down next to the other one below Wilkins’ head. “Is there anything you would like to say before I proceed?”
Wilkins could hardly think over the pain he was feeling in his bound ankles and wrists, still getting enough blood to preclude the onset of pain relieving numbness. His head was starting to pound as a migraine decided to add to his woes. Then in a matter of seconds he lost all feeling in his feet and could feel the numbing from the lack of circulation. All he could muster in response was a muffled “uh, uh.”
Without saying a single word, Vale picked up the bucket and poured the icy cold water over and down through the sack covering Wilkins’ head. Immediately Wilkins began gasping for air, the sense of drowning overcoming all else. When the water had drained into the empty pail, Vale switched the pails and repeated the procedure.
After what seemed to Wilkins to be hours, Vale called Bradshaw and Nelson back in to help him reverse the attitude of the board and put Wilkins in an upright position, then he slightly loosened the bindings. Vale had calculated that Wilkins, with his very slight build could withstand being inverted for up to ten minutes at a time. The lack of blood to the extremities could result in permanent damage if he left him inverted for much longer. That wouldn’t do for Wilkins. Vale checked his stopwatch—five minutes, well within his time limit. Vale removed the wet hood so he could check Wilkins’ eyes. He looked to be in reasonably good shape in spite of the ordeal.
Wilkins couldn’t stop gasping for air, such was the sensation to which he had been subjected.
“Calm down, it’s over; breathe regularly or else you’re going to hyperventilate. So, have you had enough? Is there anything you would like to tell me? Or shall we do this again?”
“You can subject me … to this torture … from now until hell freezes over … but there just isn’t anything … that I can tell you because I … don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know how many times … I have to tell you that!” It took all of Wilkins’ strength to get the words out through his desperate gasping.
Vale left the room for a few minutes, ironically to grab a glass of water and clear his head. He was beginning to believe that Wilkins was telling the truth. Vale knew that there was a fine line during an interrogation—a line that if crossed, rendered
a subject powerless to resist any ideas that his interrogators chose to implant. You either interrogated to find out secrets or you did it to break your subjects resolve and turn them into pawns—brainwashed puppets willing to do your bidding. Vale wanted Wilkins to reveal the secrets, not force him into telling him whatever he wanted to know, which would accomplish nothing. He had to stop short of destroying the man’s spirit. He couldn’t bring Wilkins too far and still be certain of the results. Perhaps one more ‘waterboard’ treatment … .
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Richard was scheduled to meet with Stephen Hamilton at the White House for lunch so he had set aside the entire day to give himself enough time to sleep in a little, have a light casual breakfast and travel from New York to Washington. He wasn’t sure how much time Stephen was setting aside for him but he knew they had to discuss some of the issues the U.S. had with the W.O.N., and Richard was sure that Stephen was interested in the latest developments with the Controller.
Richard arrived at the scheduled time only to find Stephen engaged in business with his defense secretary. Advised that it would be about ten minutes delay, Richard passed the time in conversation with his once secretary, Mrs. Williams. She hadn’t changed a bit and was just as feisty as ever, even though she was now in her seventies and ready to move on. She assured Richard she would not stay on for another presidential term whether it was with Hamilton or anyone else.
“Things have gotten too boring around here. There aren’t any more crises, not like the ones you had anyway, Mr. President. Ever since you got that world organization thing up and running, nobody is giving us any trouble to speak of.”
“I would have thought you would welcome the tranquility, Mrs. Williams.”
“If I wanted tranquility I’d sit at home on my porch and knit sweaters!”
Richard laughed heartily at that comment just as Stephen came out to greet him with a hug and handshake.
“Sounds like you two have been discussing the good ole days.”
“Something like that. See you later, Mrs. Williams.” Richard entered the Oval Office followed by Stephen, closing the door behind him.
“Good to see you again, Richard. How have you been?”
“Well, I’m sure you heard about the divorce.”
“Yes, I did, very unfortunate too, I might add—at least from my perspective. I don’t relish seeing two of my best friends at odds.”
“It was amicable. We both reached the conclusion that the future didn’t favor our continuing with the status quo. But enough of that, so what have you been up to these days?”
“Oh, just the usual day to day opportunities. Have you had a chance to go over the outline I sent you?”
“I sure did. Stephen, I agree with everything you said with only one exception, as regards the Columbian drug trafficking problem; I feel that there are other avenues we should explore before resorting to the actions you recommend. But other than that, I don’t see any problem with your presenting these ideas before the general assembly.”
“I was sure you wouldn’t like the solution to the Columbian problem. I had to present it in its current form because of party pressure. I’ve made it pretty clear to them that I am not going to seek reelection and their prime candidate is the author of that particular item. I feel that the rest of the proposals are strong enough to overshadow the Columbian idea.”
“Well, if he is going to make a name for himself, it won’t be with that proposal. No matter, since I’ve decided not to seek reelection; I can honestly say I don’t give a damn.”
“I can’t say that I blame you Richard, all things considered. But from a selfish standpoint, I wish you would reconsider. The world still needs you and will for quite some time.” Richard didn’t respond, merely shrugged his shoulders.
“Before we have lunch, how about a drink?” Stephen was already making his way over to the liquor cart he always had brought in when he was meeting with close cabinet members and friends.”
“Sounds good to me; I’ll have a scotch, neat.”
Stephen made their drinks then sat down opposite Richard who had taken one of the easy chairs, Stephen taking the other.
“So, Richard, do you feel like discussing the efforts to date as regards the Controller?”
“Sure, I don’t mind. There’s been a glitch.”
“What kind of glitch?”
“It turns out that we can’t get a definitive response from Wilkins which will confirm beyond all doubt that he is our man.”
“So what are you planning to do?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Thornton has asked for a little more time to see if they can get some further information out of Wilkins before giving up.”
“Best to be sure, Richard. We don’t want to go off half cocked.”
“Yeah, but in the meantime, who knows what other plans the Controller has had in the works; he could have started something of which we have no inkling. For all we know he may have a boss he answers to.”
Stephen stiffened at that last statement. “What are you saying? What aren’t you telling me, Richard?”
“It’s just a theory that I posed to Christine and Adam the other day.” Richard proceeded to fill Stephen in on the conversation that took place.
“I see what you mean. All this time and I never considered the possibility that the Controller wasn’t the top dog. How do you propose we confirm or deny your suspicions?”
“I’m hoping that the next phase of Wilkins’ interrogation will give us a better indication of what we need to do. If there is someone pulling Wilkins’ strings, I hope we can break him down into telling us the identity of his puppeteer.”
“So we just have to rely on Thornton’s team at this point?” Stephen had an aversion to the intelligence services, feeling that there was too much speculation and not enough confirmation regarding security issues. He didn’t attack the issue simply because of the world being stable and peaceful, but should the status ever change, he was more than willing to make wholesale changes.
“I’m afraid that we have exhausted all other avenues. If the CIA team can’t come up with something, then we might be out of business. Assuming the Controller knows what we are doing, then we better start thinking about a good place to hide.”
Stephen knew instantly that Richard wasn’t joking.
“Richard, if we assume what you just said to be true, shouldn’t we be putting a backup plan in place? I mean that if anything should happen to you, heaven forbid, who would be able to take up the battle? We need to have someone outside the Controllers prying eyes who can step up and champion the cause.”
“Don’t worry about that Stephen; I already thought of that and there is a plan in place that will kick in the minute I’m no longer able to maintain the fight. I just hope that it never has to be used. I’m not quite ready to roll over and call it a day.”
“What role do you anticipate me playing in the alternate plan?”
“I think you would be the key player. The individuals—two people I trust—who are targeted to carry out the plan would be looking for you to provide them with the resources to continue the endeavor. By themselves, they don’t have any resources they can tap. That isn’t a drawback; it’s actually an advantage in so far as the Controller doesn’t have them on his radar as anyone to be worried about.”
“I think I have a pretty good idea who they are. When will I find out for certain?”
“When the time comes for them to take over they will reveal themselves to you and outline their plan of attack.”
“I hope that day never comes.”
“Well, Stephen, the more I think about it, the more I tend to feel that it is inevitable. Logically, should the Controller find out that I’m involved in any activity aimed at subverting his plans, he will have no choice but to lash out and eliminate me as a problem.”
“Then we will just have to make sure that he doesn’t find out.”
“Easier said than done, I’m afraid.
>
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Vale filled in Bradshaw, Taylor and Nelson on a plan he devised to have Taylor role-play at being the “good cop” to the others “bad cop” routine. They needed to devise a way to introduce Taylor to his role in such a way that Wilkins would think it his idea to try and curry Taylor’s favor. They brainstormed different ideas until Bradshaw suggested that they administer another waterboard treatment only this time they should have Taylor interrupt the process by showing some concern for the health of Wilkins.
“I think you may be on to something.” Nelson liked the scenario. “We could show some irritation at his lack of cooperation and make like we are blowing our cool. Then Taylor can intervene before we start to inflict further punishment on Wilkins.”
Bradshaw jumped in to expand on the plan. “We can argue amongst ourselves within earshot of Wilkins. He will assume that there is dissention within our group. Taylor can come off looking like his salvation if we do it properly.”
Vale figured that this plan might work if Taylor was prepared to fill the role. “What do you think, Taylor. Can you pull it off?”
“Sure boss. I’ll have that guy eating out of my hand.”
“Okay then, that’s our plan. Taylor, if you can gain his confidence then he might reveal some things to you that we can’t get out with force. I don’t mind telling you guys, this is a tough nut to crack. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there is something strange about this bird.”