Lack of sleep also had a remarkable effect on the Turk's patience. It made it disappear completely. After half an hour of interrogation, he'd already had enough of the ninja.
All but one had been easy enough to break down; point of fact, most of the sniveling creeps were almost eager to talk. It was a shame then that none of them actually knew anything even remotely useful. The Turks had all had a go with questioning the would-be assassins (except Preston who was still stuck to young Godo like a leech), but had come up with the same result each time. Zip. The ninja knew the location and appearance of the men they were supposed to kill, but no more. They had also been paid highly for their services, a fact that their employer must now be regretting if Vincent was any judge. As Linden remarked, whoever that man was, he'd been ripped off and no mistake.
Still, he knew he shouldn't have expected more, it was what any sensible person would have done. Hell, it was the way he would have done it, although he liked to think that he could have carried the job out without getting caught. But overall, the less that the mules knew, the less they could spill if they were captured.
However.
There was one of their number that he reckoned knew a lot more about what was going on here. The man they'd recognised from the bar, who'd been handing over the Gil. Vincent would have staked his life (were he not keeping a very close guard on it right now) that he was the one in charge of the merry band and knew the identity of the employer. But typically, in direct contrast to the rest of the cowering shinobi, this one steadfastly refused to so much as open his mouth.
Tied to a crude chair, hands and feet expertly bound, the man had been blindfolded and left for stew for a bit whilst the Turks interrogated the others. A standard warm up technique - the screams, cries for mercy and generally nasty sounds that issued from a mans' comrades had an unnerving habit of entering his brain and pressing the all the buttons marked 'panic'.
No such luck here.
Their mission was further compounded by the news that Lord Kisaragi had issued strict orders that none of the men were to be harmed in any way. Turk methods took many forms, but the majority included some kind of physical element depending on who was carrying out the interrogation and how trigger happy they were feeling at the time.
Vincent would have liked nothing more than to rough up the stubborn ninja a bit and see how he responded to a gun in the groin (one of his favourite tricks - maximum pain with a minimal risk of death). But thanks to Kisaragi, he'd been forced to give his word that he wouldn't, which meant that the smug bastard could sit there with that smirk on his face, safe in the knowledge that the Turks couldn't lay a finger on him.
So they'd reached a kind of stalemate; the prisoner refusing to talk and Vincent refusing to give up. The Turk leader didn't bother to conceal his scowl as he leaned back against the wall. Folding his arms across his chest, he considered the problem in front of him.
Perhaps he was simply coming at this from the wrong angle. He couldn't torture the man, much as he'd like to, and it didn't look as if he was going to be persuaded to talk either. There had to be something he was missing.
As he often did at times like these, he speculated on what his predecessor would have done. Forlan Grisham had been the leader of the Turks for a good many years before meeting his demise. Vincent would have added the word 'untimely' to the phrase, but for a Turk that was practically a given. Rare was the Turk who died peacefully in his sleep. Violently in his sleep, perhaps, but not peacefully. Still, before he passed away he'd been able to impart his vast repository of knowledge to the young Vincent who, desperate to impress, had eagerly filed away everything his new mentor said.
Grisham had been a great one for quotations, and one of them began to spring to mind now - "a chain is only as strong as its weakest link". Vincent could picture the former leader saying the words, and idly tapped a finger against his lips as he pondered the meaning. The prisoner was the strongest link. The rest of the ninja didn't know enough… It was just a matter of finding that weak point in the chain then forcing it to break.
His eyes suddenly widened in realisation as it hit him. How could he have been so blind, he berated himself? That attack last night must have shaken up his wits. Who was working on the inside? Who'd tried to incriminate the Turks in last nights' escapade? And who'd accepted a sizeable bribe from the man seated in front of him? He could have kicked himself; he'd interrogated everyone involved except the weak link.
Sasuke, your time is up.
A sly smile started to spread across his face as he got up from the wall and opened the door to the holding cell. Linden was seated on the floor outside, a cigarette lazily held in his mouth. He certainly looked worse for wear this morning, more so than his superior. Upon seeing Vincent, he hastily scrambled to his feet, stubbing out the cigarette and crushing it under his shoe.
"Boss?"
Vincent closed the door behind him. He didn't want the prisoner to get wind of his plan. "Where's Deacon?" he enquired. Linden jabbed a thumb in the direction of the main building.
"Upstairs" he answered. "There was nothing else for him to do, so he decided to take a walk."
"Well go and find him. I want the two of you to go and bring me Sasuke."
The junior Turk looked taken aback. "The soldier?" He snorted. "I can manage him by myself you know…"
Vincent rolled his eyes. "I know, I just don't want any arguments from the bastard. I also don't want him doing a runner when he finds out that I'd like to talk to him."
"You're going to interrogate him?" Linden's eyes widened in disbelief. "I didn't think we could touch him, Kisaragi didn't give us permission to…" He trailed off as he saw the look on Vincent's face. The raised eyebrow and patient expression told him that Vincent was well aware of this and didn't particularly give a damn. "Okay" he acquiesced, "we'll fetch him. Do we tell him why or leave him in the dark?"
That devious smile began to surface once again. "I think we ought to let him know what we want. Get Deacon to bring his Bible too." Linden nodded and turned to leave. He'd only taken a few steps when Vincent's voice continued, almost as an afterthought. "Oh… And don't be afraid to use whatever means you feel necessary."
"Boss?" The Turk was confused. "Kisaragi said…"
"Kisaragi said that we were not to harm the prisoners in any way" finished Vincent smoothly. "Sasuke is not a prisoner."
Linden threw a mock salute and carried on his way, silently marveling at the twisted way his boss's mind worked sometimes.
- - -
It was half an hour before the duo of Linden and Deacon returned, complete with a trembling Sasuke. The Wutaian soldier looked as if he'd rather be anywhere but where he was that moment, but for some reason seemed to be keeping remarkably quiet about it. The mystery behind his silence was soon revealed though, as Vincent noticed the barrel of Lindens' gun lodged in the small of the mans' back.
"Morning" said the leader of the Turks dryly. "Sleep well?" Sasuke didn't reply, instead he opted to stand there, his eyes warily drawn towards Lindens' ever-present gun digging into his spine. Vincent didn't seem to notice the lack of a response, he hadn't really expected one. He pulled a revolver from it's' holster and began to check it. "Look" he said flatly, flicking off the safety. "I'll level with you here. We can either do this the hard way or we can do it the fatal way. Choose."
"But… But…" Sasuke seemed to find his voice at last. "My Lord said…"
Vincent cut him off with a single glare. "I know precisely what your Lord said" he informed the protesting guard. "And I don't think I have violated any of it. I haven't hurt the prisoners." A fresh magazine snapped into the gun. "Yet. There's still plenty of time." He grimaced. The whole operation hinged on Sasuke believing that Vincent was ready to ignore Kisaragi's dictate, ready to kill.
"I think…"
"I didn't bring you here to think, I brought you here to answer my questions" interrupted the Turk. "Linden, bring him in, there's someone I'd like him to get reacquainted with." He ushered the pair inside the cell, keeping a close eye on Sasuke all the time for any signs of a reaction. He got one.
As soon as the soldier caught a glimpse of the man tied to a chair, his eyes widened. His naturally tanned face, which had been pale to start with thanks to Linden and Deacons' less than gentle ministrations, began to take on a rather unhealthy shade of green. Vincent kept his smug grin firmly in check. The fish had taken the bait, now all he had to do was reel him in.
Linden unceremoniously shoved Kisaragi's guard in the back, whilst Deacon stepped around to the side, watching, his leather bound Bible held tightly in his hands.
"Have you two met?" enquired the Turk cheerily. Sasukes' lips formed the words of a denial, but his body language said otherwise. Vincent raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"No..."
By now, the prisoner had realised who had come to pay him a visit, and did not seem at all pleased by the news.
"You're sure you don't know this man? This is the first time you've seen him?"
"Yes…"
"Apart from last night, obviously." Vincent marveled at how easily the guard had walked into that trap. Numerous trails connected these two, as well as several witnesses who'd been drinking in the Turtles' Paradise during the exchange. An outright denial was stupid.
"Yes…"
Vincent pretended to consider the words. "Well, if you're sure you don't know him, then I guess there's nothing more to be said." He leveled his gun at the captives' heart. "You can give him his last rites, Deacon. I guess we're just going to have to kill him."
He pulled the trigger.
Several things happened at once. The prisoner, guessing that his number was well and truly up, attempted to hurl himself to the ground, out of the way. His efforts were hampered by the heavy wooden chair that was attached to him though, so all he managed was a feeble lurch to the left. This meant that the bullet which had been traveling at his heart struck him further across the chest. He let out a cry of pain as the telltale trail of blood oozed from the point of impact, then collapsed, silent. Only his bonds held him upright.
At the same time, Sasuke finally succeeded in freeing himself from Lindens' grasp, forgetting for a split second about the gun pointing at him, and flung himself towards Vincent, yelling. "No! Godo will kill us all!"
The Turk leader smartly sidestepped the gibbering man, letting Linden regain a firm hold on him before reholstering the gun.
"Godo will kill us, will he?" he asked. "Interesting. How do you know that, considering you've never met this man before?"
Sasuke wasn't listening. "He's dead!" he squawked to himself before turning on Vincent. "You killed him! Godo's going to blame me for this, he'll hunt me down…"
"He's that important?"
"Hatsuto is Godo's right hand!" The soldier seemed more concerned with the matter of his own welfare than by the fact he was leaking information like a broken tap.
Vincent shook his head in disbelief. "You know, for one of Kisaragi's' personal bodyguards, you're one hell of a coward" he observed with a derogatory sneer. He walked over to the prisoner in the chair and crouched down. "Come on you" he ordered to the corpse. "Wake up."
"What are you…" Sasuke looked on, his beleaguered brain unable to process what his eyes were seeing. The Turk was sternly patting the dead mans' cheek in an attempt to rouse him. And it was working! A groan issued from the prisoners' mouth confirming his status as alive.
"Tranquiliser bullet" said Vincent by way of explanation. "Filled with red paint and completely harmless." He stood up as the newly revealed Hatsuto slowly regained consciousness. "I think we're just about done here for the time being. Deacon, did you get everything he said?"
The hitherto quiet Turk nodded. He opened up his Bible to reveal a cunningly concealed tape recorder spinning away merrily, capturing every sound the men made. "You mean the bit where he spilled his guts? Yes, got in down no problem."
"Excellent. You can all go now." Vincent turned his back on the guard as he pulled on his pair of fingerless leather gloves. "Oh, and Sasuke…" He clenched his hand, feeling the material mould itself to the curves. "You might want to see someone about that tooth."
A puzzled look replaced the fear on Sasuke's face. "What tooth?" His reply came in the form of a fist, slamming into his mouth, sending blood and an upper incisor flying.
"That one."