This chapter is slightly interesting. You may be skeptic, you may not. Anyway, later in the story, background information will be provided that will make this seem more reasonable.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.
"Hello, Madam." The Tyrant stood as she entered the room, waving her towards a chair. "I noticed you didn't sleep well last night. I hope you're feeling well."
"So do I." Valerie seated herself stiffly, and waited, staring straight ahead, and consciously wiping any signs of emotion off her face.
"Do you know Zane?"
"We work for the same person." Valerie wondered how far she could push him. Images of Zane's back crept into her mind. The burns on his chest. The blood smeared across the floor. How long until the same thing was done to her? She barely repressed a shudder.
"Do you know him though?"
"I know him."
He leaned forward with a frown. "Well?"
"How would you define: well?" Valerie refused to meet his eyes, but continued to stare straight ahead.
"Are you friends?"
Valerie shrugged. "Perhaps."
"You tried to kill him last night. Are you really working for the same person? Has he really hired you for the same reasons? Are you enemies?"
"Perhaps."
The man on the other side of the room turned from his computer. "Were you hired to kill Zane?"
"Do I look like a hit woman to you?" Valerie let a hint of anger cross her face, and then hastily erased it. "Do you know how old I am, man? I do have some moral standards!"
"Why did you attempt to murder him?"
"I didn't."
With a sigh of annoyance, The Tyrant stood, and walked across the room to look at a computer screen. "I used the word attempt, Madam. You most definitely did attempt to take his life. You almost did. Almost throttled him. And then you let go. Why?"
"Why what?"
For a moment, she was sure she'd gone too far— been too insolent. But then he said, "Why did you try to kill him?"
"We… had a fight of sorts."
"Recently?"
"A few years ago." Valerie allowed herself to squirm uncomfortably. This was supposed to be a touchy subject for her.
The computer person frowned. "You haven't ever been in contact with him before. How could you have had a fight a few years ago, woman— excuse me, Madam?"
"You don't keep as close tabs on him as you do his employer, do you? Besides, I wasn't even in your files! We haven't been near each other for… quite a while."
"Why not?"
Valerie squirmed again. "Because…"
"Why didn't you finish killing him?" The Tyrant asked abruptly.
Valerie looked away.
"Why not?"
"I couldn't," mumbled Valerie shamefacedly.
Silence for a moment. Her interrogator thought, observing her embarrassment. "You love him."
Valerie was truly embarrassed by such a blunt statement. Of course she didn't love him, and it made her slightly angry as well. She flushed without thinking.
Perfect.
He smiled, thinking he now knew the truth. "You two loved each other. You two quarreled. You get your chance for revenge. You try to kill him. You can't. Interesting."
The man at the computer took notes furiously, muttering and mumbling to himself over something.
"I assume then that neither of you wanted that known, and so pretended not to recognize the other when you were first thrown into the cell." He paused, thinking. "Was this all planned? Did Zane know that you were going to come in after him for the diamond? Did your employer think that we would let down our guard?"
"Would he have told me?"
"I'm not sure. Did he?"
"No. I didn't know. Maybe Zane knew. I don't know, though." Valerie shrugged again, hoping that he wouldn't keep asking questions on this topic and expose her lie. If he did everything they had would be lost.
Her eyes began to wander, presumably in embarrassment. Actually, she was memorizing the room, hoping to be able to find a way out of it.
"There's no way out of here," he said with obvious amusement. "Many people have tried to get in. The only ones who do get in are those who don't want to. The only ones who go out are the ones we give permission to leave, and the ones in body bags."
Valerie pursed her lips in disdain, and said nothing.
"About the diamond though." He returned to his seat. "Of course you aren't going to tell me where it is right away. That's obvious. You do have a slight bit of obstinacy in you."
She snorted.
"But protocol, of course, demands that I warn you of the pain you will go through if you do not choose to tell me everything you know about it. Trust me, when I say it won't be pleasant. I understand that you are in the employment of a powerful man, who will no doubt be angry. I am fully capable of hiding you, however."
"But you wouldn't," murmured Valerie calmly. "You could, but if I told you, you'd just kill me. There would be no point in me living, and no point in letting me go."
"Oh, but there would be! As a warning. Who then would attempt to fight with me? The Mafia?"
Valerie smiled her most unnerving smile. "I don't think you realize what you are up against."
The sudden silence in the room told her she'd done it perfectly. They would believe now that she held a card they had not even guessed at.
"What do you… mean?"
Valerie said nothing.
"Explain!" His voice was angry now. Good. Let him be. If he was angry, his imagination would win over logical thinking, and he would hinder himself by complicating things.
"Explain!" Louder this time.
Valerie leaned back in her chair, and deliberately shut her eyes, knowing this would increase his anger.
He rose abruptly, snapping something at the guard at the door in Russian. The door opened. The guard called to someone outside, stepping out as he did so. Valerie waited.
A few moments later, she was plucked out of her chair, and jostled down the hall to another room by a guard. Behind her, The Tyrant and his techie followed, talking in low voices. She was certain now that the techie did not know Russian. He sounded American almost in his accent. Perhaps— no, it wouldn't do to trust anyone.
She racked her brain for an answer in frustrated silence, barely noticing the guards and hall and stairs. She noted their entrance to another room in a detached sort of way, and went back to thinking about a way out, letting the guard carrying her drop her into a chair.
"Will you explain?" The Tyrant's voice sliced into her thoughts, interrupting at an inconvenient moment. She felt that she had almost reached a solution, and then lost everything, including the thoughts that had led her closer to the path out of The Fortress.
Valerie scowled reprovingly at him. "No, I will not." It was ridiculous! Why did he bother asking?
"I thought I'd ask," he returned agreeably.
"What will it be?" asked the techie from his seat at another computer.
Disgust twitched the corner of Valerie's mouth. What will it be? As thought torture was a meal, waiting to be dished up. Where was Zane? Perhaps they would wait with him, and test her strengths first. Then they would know how to proceed with things.
The Tyrant studied her carefully for a full minute. "The crusher," he said finally. "Try the hands. Just in case it was herself that she warned us about. It will disable her."
The crusher. It did not sound particularly pleasant. Valerie began to remove herself. Focus on nothing. Find your chi, cling to that, and let your body fade away. It is not important.
She barely heard the hum of a motor as one of the guards guided a machine across the room. Cold metal touched her hand. Valerie forced herself not to notice it. It wasn't there. She no longer felt it. Good. Her father would have been proud of her. She was handling herself beautifully.
"Will you explain?"
Valerie paused, collecting herself, and opened her eyes to slits. "I'm afraid not."
"Very well. If at any time you agree to cooperate with me, I will stop the pain." Protocol. How childishly ridiculous! It was tradition though, and so it was continued. But of course she knew the rules— how things worked! It was always the same.
She felt the metal again, as it tightened on her hand. Valerie shut her eyes tightly, and wiped away the feeling in her hand so that it was almost a separate limb. Her breathing. She was careful to keep it in check, breathing deeply and evenly.
This other hand— this hand that was not part of her began to feel squished and uncomfortable. Let it.
"Will you explain?" The voice was farther away now. Valerie did not trouble herself to answer. If she did, she would begin to feel the pain in her hand, and have to wrestle harder to get it back under control.
Often people who suffer astounding injuries do not feel them for quite some time. The body secretes a drug that can, for a while, entirely block off pain. Most people do not know this. To control your pain, you must first learn how to control this drug. Valerie smiled to herself. Her father was so helpful. He knew so much. He had taught her so much too! But it had gotten him killed. Someone from Japan— an old enemy— had finally found him. They had not wanted all of his knowledge imparted, and because they could not control him, they had killed him instead. They feared him. That was why.
She'd never quite understood what had happened there. Why he had come to the US with her mother shortly before she was born. It was to hide, of course. She wasn't sure what from, though.
Do not distract yourself. Deal with it while it is manageable. Valerie sighed inwardly, and thought about the pain in her hand. If she wasn't letting her mind feel it, her body was. Her whole arm was twitching in helpless nerve spasms. She forced it to stop.
"Will you explain, Madam?" The fury in his voice was amusing. He could do all he wanted, but nothing would persuade her to speak. He would know it soon, and he would only be able to kill her. She was useless to him unless she gave him the information he wanted.
"Do you think I would?" She had tight control of the pain now, and opened her eyes, looking calmly at him.
His eyes flickered hastily to the machine. He'd never seen anyone act like this under torture. It was like she couldn't feel it! Perhaps— there was a handful of people on the world with twisted genes. Persons who could not feel any pain at all. But surely…
There was a loud crackling sound, as her bones finally began to give under the pressure of the metal plates. The crusher. So appropriately named. Valerie forced herself to watch it happening, knowing this would unnerve The Tyrant even more.
"What a shame," she sighed. This would be most amusing, if she did it right. Never let anyone be certain of who you are. Always let them be changing their mind. That way, they cannot plan for you, and they cannot predict you. They must never be able to predict you. In this lies your safety. "It was a good hand. I'll have to grow a new one."
She almost felt all of them freeze. The Tyrant. The techie. The guards. Most of them did not understand her, but they felt the tension her remark had generated around them.
The Tyrant took a half step backwards, staring at her in horror. "What are you?"
Valerie smiled sweetly. Oh this was good! But she still didn't have a way out of here! Ah, well. "I'm sure you'd like to know."
He spun around, and sat down in his chair, waving a hand at the guards. He shouted something at them in Russian. Probably telling them to take her back to the cell. She was, at any rate.
Funny. In a deadly kind of way. I like to mess with people's minds. You're probably all rolling your eyes, and thinking no one could deal with that. Just wait. You'll find out why she's special later. She doesn't like to talk about it though, so it'll be about half way through before you find out.
You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)
