The Quandary — Part IV
From outside the interrogation room, the elegant man listened attentively to the suspects. He was alone now, haven sent the grayhair captain back to the base to find out if the team had found and apprehended any other American teacher. Even though they had uncovered the secret coding and apprehended two operatives, he could still not claim victory. The elegant man was clear of what he needed in order to close the loose ends, and he knew he needed to close them fast.
With his body and mind recklessly tired from the last two days, caffeine and nicotine were his only fuel. Now his fuel was running low for resisting the urge of firing up another cigarette, which avoiding smoke getting in the interrogation room. They clearly think I am listening to their stories, he thought. His plan wasn’t going exactly as he wanted.
He paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, uncertain if he should intervene in their conversation. The one proclaiming to be a professor is telling his story thinking I am listening to it. How gullible do they think I am? To think that I would think that they would tell the truth if they were alone, I don’t think so. He continued pacing, reaching for a cigarette from his pocket and nervously playing with it between his fingers.
Although he had questioned and dealt with suspects before, this was his first time questioning CIA agents. It’s not the same, he thought, I have to second guess everything. Every word, every movement, every silence, every stillness, question everything.
He could hear the Professor talking in a low tone, almost a whisper. To anyone unaware that the Teacher was in the room with him, it would have seemed that the Professor had been talking to himself for the past hour. The Teacher was silent the whole time, he did not react to the Professor’s alleged account of the events taking place in the last day.
A so called professor and a so called school teacher, he thought, such lies. Rather two pawns in the imperialist side of the chessboard. He had talked to each one of the prisoners independently, listening to each of their stories, but he still hadn’t talked to them both together. He strategically placed them both in the interrogation room before he would talk to them together. I’m sure they have protocols for being caught as a lone operative, he rationed, however under no circumstance would they think that if more than one operative would be caught that they would be placed together and left alone. Putting them together will break their pattern and they might react unexpectedly, and I will be there to witness and use it in my advantage.
Still pacing back and forth as the Professor spoke, he ran through the possible scenarios in his head. They obviously know I am listening, and they know I know they are listening, it is why the Professor is still in character. Either they actually were trained to be under this circumstance, contrary to my initial thoughts, or they are improvising by telling their lies to each other and aligning their stories. Either way it was a bad idea to put them together, I should have known better. Still the amateur, just as the President told me earlier.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden silence in the interrogation room. The Professor was taking a break from talking. The elegant man had been lost in his thoughts, not paying much attention to the monologue, but he still caught the last words being spoken by the Professor, “the last photograph is the one portraying you in handcuffs.”
Such a monumental mistake, he thought while closing his eyes with his head down, I need to shift the game back in my favor. Seizing the brief opportunity before the Professor continued with his story, the elegant man lighted up a cigarette and turned the doorknob to step in the interrogation room.
