Chapter 2-Tell me
Michael woke briefly in the back of the truck and then returned to his unconscious state, not waking again until he felt himself being pulled across a dirt path to a building. He did not know how long he was out, but even with the smell from the bag, he recognized the strong smell of the ocean and beach as well as the thick brush of the glades.
The stairs were wooden and he let them drag him, not sure if he could stand up on his own. Inside he was roughly placed in a hard wooden chair and his arms and feet cable tied down. The bag was removed and he continued to let them think he was out. It may give him an advantage, he couldn't be sure.
Michael could make out three distinct sounds indicating that three people were in the room with him.
"Wake him!" One demanded.
Knowing that usually entailed a form of pain, he opened his eyes, blinking repeatedly.
"Ah...Your back.
"What about my mother?"
"Getting right to the point, I love that about you.
"Well?"
"I used your mother as leverage so I could get you out of the loft and into my truck. I suspect that if I blow her up I won't get another word out of you, will I. So I took the liberty of leaving a small note for Fiona in your, what do you call those terrible living conditions that you live in, yes, a loft. She should be able to dismantle my little bomb without blowing up anything. Now to business. Did you sleep well?"
"Not really But it's nice that you are asking." Michael smiled back taking in the room around him. A bright light was directly above him, a spot light, directly at his eyes, warm almost hot. As for the rest of the room, it was awash in the light and he could see only what they wanted him to see, which was nothing.
"So should we get right down to business? What do you want?"
"Information!"
"What kind? Maybe I can help you and this will all be over soon."
"I wish that were true, Mr. Westen, but the information I require is a little sensitive."
"Why don't you try me? I was burned you know."
"OK, In 1995 you were in you were in Pakistan and arraigned a deal for a family to leave with their personal wealth, and move to the United States. They arrived and were given new identities, new lives as Americans and they disappeared. I want their location and their new identities.
"Why."
"Does it matter?"
"I don't have that information."
"Please Mr. Westen, don't lie to me. It was your operation. I have read the file. Well at least most of it. They removed the best part, the end. That is what I need you for."
"You are asking me about details of an op from 15 years ago, I can't remember that."
"Are you sure. There was a second file all about you. Separate from the main file."
"What are you talking about?"
"I am talking about you, and how the company nearly lost you. Once to a bomb and once to a girl, and once to the investigation. What was her name? Oh, yes yes! Lena."
Michael felt his heart drop. How long had it been since he had heard the name? Bile filled the back of his throat and he closed his eyes.
"Yesss. You do remember. The file I read said you were in love, young love. Forbidden. Books are written about such things. You kept it all discretely hidden away and then, suddenly you ran with her. Didn't you know they wouldn't let you leave with her? Did you know she was pregnant?"
"That's enough!" Michael hissed back. His hands in a fist shaking against the binds.
"That road side bomb was a shame and well planned if I do say so. Though just a tad too much explosive and ...well how long did you stay at the red cross? Six weeks? Or eight? And she lingered for just 4 days. Shame. You never got to see her alive again"
"You son of a bitch!"
The man looked at him and the smile returned. "Your report was incomplete. You named the bomber the Mad Bomber. Not... Mintor the Mad bomber."
"Why" Michael screamed. His face red, hot and sweaty. "I'm going to kill you!" Pulling at the restraints on his wrist causing the plastic edges to dig in to his skin and bleed.
"It was orders, a job. My reputation was on the line. Now you are going to have to settle down."
"Who paid you?"
"Now who is interrogating who? We will get to all of that in the next few days."
"Who paid you, you bastard?"
"Yes, that is right. You never did find out who paid me to kill her did you? You searched for a long time for that answer. You never knew if it was her family. Did they want you and her dead because of their religious beliefs, their shame. Was it was the CIA? Did they not want to lose their brightest new operative?"
"TELL ME!" Michael screamed, tears forming in his eyes. "Just tell me!" Falling back in defeat in the chair.
"I have to be going, good chat. May I call you Michael. I am surprised that it still bothers you. Many said she was just a whore that easily climbed into your bed to get information. Though, I am sure by our discussion of one thing."
Michael looked up still sunk in his chair.
"You...loved her."