by Philip Cox
‘Waterboarding,’ Sanchez continued. ‘Why do -’
‘It’s quite basic,’ McGee interrupted again. ‘The suspect is restrained, and water is poured over his face so it runs into the mouth and nose. It triggers what’s called a mammalian diving reflex, so that the person experiences the sensations of drowning. Unlike the traditional head in the water face forward, this leads to an immediate gag reflex.’
Sanchez stared at him. ‘Really, Detective, I had no idea your knowledge was so extensive.’
‘Just like to keep abreast of what’s going on,’ McGee shrugged. ‘It causes pain, dry drowning, damage to the lungs, and brain damage from oxygen deprivation.’
‘I think that’s all we need to know, thanks,’ said Sanchez holding her hand up.
‘Even broken bones.’
‘Broken bones?’ asked Craig.
‘From the suspect struggling.’ McGee replied, as if the answer was obvious. ‘The technique actually goes back to the Spanish Inquisition.’
‘Enough already,’ Sanchez said, louder this time. ‘The point is, it happened. And what about you?’ She pointed the question at Craig.
‘I er, met this guy at the bar. We came back here, and things, things got out of control. But what we find strange -’
‘What we find strange is,’ Ben cut in, ‘what gave them the idea of waterboarding? Could one of them been a serviceman, or an ex-serviceman?’
Sanchez looked at McGee. ‘You’re the expert, Detective.’
McGee shook his head. ‘Possibly. Thing is, there’s been so much coverage of this technique in the media, anybody can easily finds out how to carry it out, from the TV, in the papers, on the internet.’
‘Look, let’s cut to the chase.’ Sanchez was trying to restore some order to the conversation. ‘I told you two guys to let us do the detective work. You didn’t. Now look what’s happened to you.’
‘Lieutenant,’ Ben asked. ‘Have we broken any laws? Have we compromised your investigation, interfered in what you are doing to find Craig’s brother. All we’ve done is ask a few questions at a bar, and got beaten up. Any laws broken?’
Sanchez looked up at McGee who gave her an exasperated look. ‘No, you haven’t. But you two are sailing pretty close to the wind. Look, guys, I understand how impatient you are about your brother, but we have to follow due process. We are doing all you can. I can’t stop you asking questions, but stay out of trouble, please.’
‘And about the charges,’ said McGee.
‘What charges?’ Ben asked.
‘You two pressing charges against whoever did what they did to you. If you want to make complaints, that’s up to you. But be warned: for the waterboarding, where’s the evidence? You don’t know who did it.’
‘I told you, I was blindfolded.’
‘Yes, so you didn’t see them. All I have is your word for it, and old Hank Anderson that he found you up in his barn. I’ll lay you ten to one whatever they used up there has gone now, and getting any physical evidence would be impossible. As for you, Mr Williams, apart from your bruises, where will I look?’
‘I could identify him if I see him. And he must have marks on his knuckles.’
‘He probably would, if the state of you is anything to go by. But if we do pick him up, and there’s no guarantees on that; that bar seems to attract a lot of transients.’
‘You could identify him from the CCTV.’
‘Yes, that’s another point. Oh, never mind. What I am trying to say is, if we did arrest and charge him, a jury would look on you disapprovingly and view it as some gay sex which went too rough. It probably wouldn’t even get to court. Very little chance of a conviction.’
‘I see.’
‘Something you need to remember, sir,’ said Detective McGee. ‘If we had been in another part of the country, you could be arrested.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘If we were up in Texas for example, we’d be charging you for a morals offence,’ replied McGee.
‘In some states, Mr Williams, homosexuality is still illegal,’ explained Sanchez. ‘But that’s not relevant here and now.’ She gave McGee an irritated stare.
‘So,’ she said preparing to leave, ‘we’ll leave you guys to it. But take my warning seriously: stay out of trouble.’
‘Fine, we’ll just call another cab. Unless you can give us a ride back to Shots.’
‘Hey, do you think we’re a friggin’ –’
Sanchez stopped McGee. ‘Just this once. We’re going that way. Unless we get a call half-way.’
The two police officers did not receive a call, and much to Ben and Craig’s relief, their Fusion was still where they left it. It was the only car parked there, the bar having closed long ago.
After they climbed out the back of the police car, Ben leaned in and spoke to McGee. ‘One question for you, Detective, about waterboarding.’
‘Yeah, what?’
‘When you were talking about it earlier, you kept referring to it as interrogation, never torture.’
McGee said nothing.
‘And you kept referring to the person on the receiving end as the suspect, never the victim. Always the suspect.’
McGee said nothing.
‘As if you approved of it. Interesting. Anyway, thanks for the lift, Lieutenant.’ He tapped the roof of the police car. Sanchez turned the wheel and the two police officers drove away, McGee glaring at them.
‘What was all that about?’ Craig asked as they walked to the Fusion.
‘It was just something about him, about what he was saying. It was as if he was approving, justifying what happened. I wanted to wind him up, the twat.’
‘I think you succeeded.’ Craig driving, they left the car park and made their way back to the apartment.
Driving back, Ben asked, ‘Back then, when I was going to mention the damage to the car, you stopped me. Did you think that was going to push her over the edge?’
‘Partly, maybe. I just – I just... There was something about that partner of hers. McGee.’
‘He was a bit of a strange bugger, I must admit. You didn’t take to him, did you?’
‘Smug, that was it. Right from the start. And talk about being anal about waterboarding. “Dates right back to the Spanish Inquisition.” I just felt it better to leave reporting that to another day.’
‘We’ve got the licence plate number, remember.’
‘All the more reason to wait. We’ll always be able to identify the car. It’s not going anywhere.’
‘What about the hospital?’
‘Nah. Forget it. I’m okay. No broken bones.’
Back in the apartment, they both flopped down in the lounge. ‘Well, that was an experience,’ said Craig.
‘Tell me about it. Next time you suggest a night off, you know what you can do,’ Ben answered, lying back on the couch, stretching.
‘It seemed a good idea at the time. I thought you’d got lucky with those two girls.’
‘I thought you’d got lucky with – Jack, wasn’t it?’
Craig nodded. ‘If that was his real name. Yeah, so did I.’
‘Sorry. How many marks would you have given him?’
‘Out of ten?’
‘Yeah.’
Craig considered the question a moment. ‘Probably –eleven.’
Ben laughed. ‘Can I ask you just one more question? You know?’
‘Go on.’
‘When you were telling me about coming out and all that. I meant to ask: have you ever slept with a woman?’
Craig lay back and looked at the ceiling. ‘Once.’
‘That girlfriend you had?’
‘No, no; not her. It was a few years back, though more recently than her. It was a friend of mine; well the daughter of a friend of the family. We were just mates, and one night I had been out somewhere, can’t remember where, but I didn’t have enough money for a cab home so I called on her and asked her if I could crash there.
‘She let me sleep on th
e couch, and during the night, she wandered in, and said I could get in bed with her as it was cold in her living room. I did as I was freezing. Once I had got into bed, she said did I want a cuddle. I said why not, I didn’t think there was anything in it. So, we cuddled a while, then she put her hand down there for a while. It felt good, and next minute she was on top of me.’
‘Yeah? What happened?’
‘Well, things lasted less than a minute, but I didn’t really enjoy it.’
‘You didn’t?’
‘Think of it this way. You’re straight, right? If a guy did that to you, it would be a physical thing, right? But deep down,’ he tapped the side of his head, ‘it wouldn’t feel right, would it?’
‘Bloody right, it wouldn’t.’
‘That was the same with me. Curiosity satisfied?’
‘Yes, satisfied.’
‘One hundred percent satisfied?’
‘One hundred percent. What happened to her? Are you still friends?’
‘In theory. Haven’t seen her in ages. We seem to have lost touch since that night. Pity. I still think my father put her up to it. But…’ He let his sentence tail off.
They both sat in silence for a few moments, then Craig stood up. ‘Well, another late night. Look, it’s almost two-thirty. Guess we’ll be sleeping in.’ He paused as they heard a beep beep come from his phone. He took it from his pocket, and looked at the screen.
‘Oh, shit,’ he said. ‘Another text from home. The last person I wanted to hear from.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘WHO’S IT FROM?’ asked Ben.
‘Sybil Stratford, would you believe it?’ Craig said, holding the phone up.
‘Jesus Christ! Why is she texting you?’ Ben asked. ‘Surely she knows you’re out here?’
‘Just listen to this,’ Craig read out the message, ‘Concerned didn’t hear from you today. Expecting you back Monday unless you have further certification. The stupid cow obviously can’t read: the certificate she’s got signs me off for another three weeks.’
‘Text her back and tell her to read it properly.’
‘I might do. Or I might just leave it and see what she does. Sooner or later she’ll realize she’s made a prat of herself. Christ, I fucking hate that woman! Anyway, I think I’ll shower again before bed. I must stink like a sweat factory.’
‘Didn’t like to say,’ chuckled Ben, as he made his way to his bedroom. While Craig was in the shower, Ben collapsed face down on the bed. He stretched out for the newspaper they had picked up earlier in the day, and began to feel his eyelids get heavier and heavier.
*****
Craig’s text got Ben thinking about his last conversation with Sybil Stratford. She was a unit manager at the office where he and Craig both worked. Craig had worked there two or three years Ben guessed; Ben joined the firm some time previously. The manager who hired Ben and for whom Ben and most of his colleagues had great respect and confidence had moved away on promotion and Sybil Stratford had replaced him.
She was, in Ben’s opinion, the worst kind of manager. She quite clearly did not understand the business they worked in, and in day to day activities was clearly out of her depth. There were numerous rumors about how she managed to get the job: the fact that her current husband was number four, and all but number one had been senior people at the office kind of confirmed them, Ben felt. The philosophy at the firm was that managers were there to help and support their teams, but she had always seemed unable to do so. Regular supervisory activities such as periodic performance reviews and coaching sessions were always carried out late, and invariably started late in the afternoon so they became rushed in order to finish at five. And after the review, the notes which would include agreed actions and should be written during the review, appeared on Ben’s desk weeks later, and bearing little if any resemblance to what was actually discussed. At first, Ben thought it was just him; a few conversations around the water cooler showed him that was not the case.
Ben’s last run in with her was the day after Craig first visited him at his flat. After Ben called Craig that night and said he intended to fly out with him to help search for Adam, he wondered if he had been a little premature. Craig had told him that he had a Doctor’s note, but Ben’s challenge would be to get time off work himself. Perhaps I should have checked that first. He had plenty of annual leave due; it was not the normal holiday season, so it would not be as if too many people were off. It would just be a matter of getting Sybil Stratford to agree to it.
Going up to his office floor in the lift the next morning, Ben had worked out his strategy. He would make use of the fact that he declined her offer of a day off when he unwisely perhaps told her about his break-up.
‘I know what you’re going through,’ she said. ‘Take a day off. You must have time owing.’
‘No, that’s very generous,’ he had said with thinly veiled sarcasm. ‘I’ll be okay.’ He had considered taking some time off then, but now he was glad he hadn’t.
There was a meeting first thing in the conference room; nothing heavy, just a lecture from her on how everybody needed get in more business. Ben groaned inwardly: Any ideas on how? You keep telling us you are the right person for the job, and how you have always succeeded: how about demonstrating that?
At the end of the meeting, Ben’s colleagues left, leaving him alone with Sybil.
‘Did you want something, my sweet?’ she said, looking up at him.
Ben shuddered. She was very short, just under five feet. Her hair was tightly permed, and dyed an unnatural blonde with a hint of purple. She was heavily made up, and had a throaty voice which was the result of many years’ heavy smoking. Worst
of all, certainly in Ben’s eyes, was her predilection for calling everybody my sweet. It gave the impression of a connection which was not exactly friendship, but more a parent to child relationship. Nothing could be further from the truth. Not in a million years, bitch.
Ben cut to the chase. ‘I need some time off.’
She broke off from the phone call she was about to make. Another endearing habit: having a telephone conversation with someone else while you are trying to talk to her.
‘Time off? Oh, do you? When?’
‘I’ve got two weeks’ annual leave which I have to take by Christmas. I would like to take them.’
‘All right,’ she searched through a pile of papers on the table and opened up a ring binder. ‘When do you want to book it for?’
‘Two weeks from tomorrow.’
‘You can’t possibly go so soon. Why so soon?’
‘That’s neither here nor there. Nobody else is off for the next fortnight, I’ve already checked. I can finish off the work on my desk if I stop late tonight. Zoe is trained to cover me.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, you can have the time off, you are entitled to it of course; but I can’t possible agree it until next Monday at the very earliest.’
Ben leaned closer to her; now he could smell her tobacco breath. ‘Sybil. You remember when my girlfriend and I broke up, I was very depressed?’
Stratford answered hesitantly, not sure where this was going. ‘Y-yes.’
‘Well, I hide it well, but I am still suffering from depression. I like to deal with it myself, stiff upper lip and all that, but if I go and see my doctor today he will sign me off for two weeks, maybe more. Shall I do that?’
Her lips thinned and her eyes burned into his. A moment’s silence, and then: ‘No. There’s no need to do that. You can have your two weeks off, starting tomorrow. Just make sure your desk is clear by the time you leave tonight.’
‘Thank you very much, Sybil.’ Ben turned and walked out of the conference room, feeling those eyes burn into his back and failing to suppress a grin.
The rest of the day went like a breeze. Normally Ben was pestered two or three times a day from Sybil, asking about how much business he had got; today he heard absolutely nothing.
‘Yes! Result!’ laughed Craig that night. H
e had called at Ben’s again so they could arrange their flights. ‘I wish I could have been there! Well done!’
‘That calls for a beer,’ Ben replied. ‘One for you?’
‘Yes please. I’ll start by searching for flights.’
‘Go for the cheapest first.’
Craig looked up. ‘Don’t need to, within reason. My parents are quite well off, remember. I’ll book the flights on my card, but ultimately my father will be paying. He’s providing our living expenses, as well, up to three grand. And we’ve got free use of his apartment there.’
‘Very generous. Are we going first class then?’
‘No, afraid not. Economy only. But if he was hiring a private detective out there, he’d have to pay the living expenses. Plus his wages, so in reality, he’s getting us cheap.’
Ben joined Craig at the computer screen. ‘Are we flying direct to Orlando?’
‘That’s the plan,’ Craig said slowly, ‘but the flights seem to be fully booked.’
‘What dates?’
‘I’m looking at the next few days.’
‘This time of year, it might be half term week. A friend of mine tried to get to Florida during a school holiday and the flights were booked then. We could wait until the weekend, maybe.’
‘No, that’s leaving it too long. Any trail Adam might have left may have gone cold by then. Our best bet is to see if we can get a flight to Miami, then hire a car. It’s only a five to six hour drive up the coast.’
‘That’s not excessive. What does it say about flights to Miami?’
‘Well, there’s a link here to Virgin. Yes we’re in business.’
‘When is the flight?’
‘There are vacant seats on flight VS005 from Heathrow tomorrow 12.30. I’ll put in a return date of ten days’ time, but I’m sure we can change that if we need to.’
Craig clicked on the Proceed button, put in his credit card details, and printed off the itinerary.
Ben rested his hand on Craig’s shoulder. ‘I guess I’d better pack.’
*****
Ben awoke, disturbed by the sound of the TV. It all seemed to have happened so quickly: four days ago he was sitting at home in London feeling very narcissistic, contemplating ending it all; now he was thousands of miles away doing something constructive.