Day 12 – The Satisfaction of Being Right

"I can't just leave you here," she says to me quietly.

I try not to laugh. I'm feeling moderately better today. I think my broken finger is starting to heal. Oh well. Good for now, bad if I ever get out of here and they have to break it again so that it can be reset. I think the drugs they injected me with might also be leaving my system. That's sort of bad news as well though, because that means that they will likely be back for me today. I don't know how much more of this I can take. All this sensory deprivation followed by extreme sensory overload as they shock me or beat me or cut me.

I can feel the edges of my brain coming undone. And that would be so very, very bad.

Dare I trust her to help me out in the only way that she can, or rather, the only way that she might be willing to?

"There's one thing you can do."

"What?" she asks wearily, like she is suddenly reminded of who she is offering to help. Well, I can't really say that I blame her.

"If we don't get out of this together, once you get back to LA, I would like you to go to the corner of East Fourth Street and South San Pedro Street. There's a house with a red roof directly across the street from a gas station. The house is abandoned and it is covered in graffiti. On the third window, left of the front door I need you to draw this symbol."

I take her hand and it is very cold. I hold her hand palm up and draw a symbol on her palm using a finger from my good hand. I hadn't realized that touching her hand like this would cause my heart to start beating wildly or the temperature to rise so quickly but it does. She leaves her hand in mine for a moment before moving it away.

She's remembered who she thinks I am.

"I'm not going to help you put some crazy plan in motion--"

I lean my head against the wall again. There's no point in explaining, she would never believe me, but I honestly believe that my options are quickly running out. We've been gone for almost two weeks. There's been no rescue. Once we dock they will have even more men guarding me and escape will be impossible. When they transport me to their compound, I will certainly wish I were dead. This is the least I can do.

"It won't set a plan in motion. This is merely one of the ways I have of telling my superiors that I have been compromised. I hold within my head certain pieces of valuable data. I can't guarantee that they won't be able to pull it out of me because now that's their goal. They are going to strip my mind down to its core and uncover every piece of intel that I have. Then they are going to barter and trade that information, so that they can try and rebuild the FTL. Once you place this symbol on the window though, my superiors will reset all passwords and code words that I know."

"SD-6 doesn't use this type of information drop."

"It's not for SD-6."

"Is this for my mother's organization? I thought it was destroyed."

"You are correct, it has been destroyed. This isn't for her."

The silence is charged again. "My God, Sark. How many employers to do you have?!" she almost whispers her accusation.

I reply quietly. "Just one that I am loyal to. Just like you."

I think she understands what I am trying to tell her, but I'm not sure. "I know that you're a double agent for the CIA. I know and I have not betrayed your secret. Does that make it any easier for you to trust me?"

This time she gets up and walks away.

A few hours go by. I am right. They have come back for me today. Somehow I don't feel much satisfaction in the knowledge that I was right.