White sighed and got up from the wooden chair that he was sitting on to
pace the small room. It screeched against the rough concrete floor as he
stood up. He glared at Artis as he passed, but said nothing to the larger
man. They'd been in the interview room for almost thirty minutes now, and
White had got nothing out of Artis, only a few sarcastic remarks. He was
rapidly running out of patience. He stopped pacing suddenly and sat down
heavily in the chair, leaning forward on the table.
"Okay," he said at last, when he was feeling a little calmer, "What do you want?" there had to be something he could use to get the man talking. So far, they'd gotten nothing but sarcastic remarks and veiled threats out of him.
"I want to talk to Sydney Bristow. Alone. I'll tell her everything she needs to know to close this file." Artis said it like it was his divine right to speak to the person who he'd ruthlessly tortured.
Yeah, right, White thought, and pig'll fly. He closed his eyes and wiped a weary hand over his face.
Instead of voicing his thoughts, he simply said, "is that your only condition?"
Artis nodded once and said slowly "Yes. That is it."
"In return for us letting you talk to Agent Bristow, will you tell us where the sensor is located?" White asked optimistically.
"No." Artis said shortly. He leaned back on the chair, which squeaked alarmingly. White had a sudden vision of the chair collapsing and had to fight to stop himself laughing out load at the image that had created in his head.
"Then you're not getting to talk to her." White said. He felt like a spiteful kid, but he knew how to play the game. And he was determined to win. He sighed slightly, and then asked "Why not?"
"Because I do not know where the sensor is. I never had it." Artis offered.
"Then who the hell did?" White snapped, losing his cool.
"Peter Fenwick." Artis stated simply.
"And you know this how?" White asked skeptically. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. A discreet look at his silver watch told him that they'd been in the interview room for almost forty-fire minutes. He got up and poured himself a cup of lukewarm black coffee from the jug on a side table, adding cream and sugar to cut the taste.
"I saw him take it." Artis said, but didn't elaborate any further.
"When did you see him take the sensor?" white asked
Artis remained silent, refusing to speak. White repeated the question a little more loudly and Artis said
"I heard you the first time. I'm just not going to answer until I get to speak to Sydney Bristow."
White stared at him as if he'd just suddenly sprouted another two heads, but signaled to the guards to take him back to his cell. As they passed, White said to Artis in a dark voice,
"I'll see what I can do."
"Okay," he said at last, when he was feeling a little calmer, "What do you want?" there had to be something he could use to get the man talking. So far, they'd gotten nothing but sarcastic remarks and veiled threats out of him.
"I want to talk to Sydney Bristow. Alone. I'll tell her everything she needs to know to close this file." Artis said it like it was his divine right to speak to the person who he'd ruthlessly tortured.
Yeah, right, White thought, and pig'll fly. He closed his eyes and wiped a weary hand over his face.
Instead of voicing his thoughts, he simply said, "is that your only condition?"
Artis nodded once and said slowly "Yes. That is it."
"In return for us letting you talk to Agent Bristow, will you tell us where the sensor is located?" White asked optimistically.
"No." Artis said shortly. He leaned back on the chair, which squeaked alarmingly. White had a sudden vision of the chair collapsing and had to fight to stop himself laughing out load at the image that had created in his head.
"Then you're not getting to talk to her." White said. He felt like a spiteful kid, but he knew how to play the game. And he was determined to win. He sighed slightly, and then asked "Why not?"
"Because I do not know where the sensor is. I never had it." Artis offered.
"Then who the hell did?" White snapped, losing his cool.
"Peter Fenwick." Artis stated simply.
"And you know this how?" White asked skeptically. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. A discreet look at his silver watch told him that they'd been in the interview room for almost forty-fire minutes. He got up and poured himself a cup of lukewarm black coffee from the jug on a side table, adding cream and sugar to cut the taste.
"I saw him take it." Artis said, but didn't elaborate any further.
"When did you see him take the sensor?" white asked
Artis remained silent, refusing to speak. White repeated the question a little more loudly and Artis said
"I heard you the first time. I'm just not going to answer until I get to speak to Sydney Bristow."
White stared at him as if he'd just suddenly sprouted another two heads, but signaled to the guards to take him back to his cell. As they passed, White said to Artis in a dark voice,
"I'll see what I can do."