Michael
Chapter 16
Michael was exhausted and sluggish, but nevertheless, he was forced to walk. He had been kept in a locked room, but now he was being moved.
A guard dressed in a suit had grasped Michael's arm as he dragged him through a door in the building. If Michael would dawdle for even a second, he would get a jab in the ribs. Michael learned very quickly that it was best to keep moving.
The place they took him to looked like it had been an old office building, now abandoned and sloppily renovated. The door through which they entered was set at one end of a long rectangle, and as they entered, it seemed to be one long hallway. As they walked down the corridor, Michael noted that all the windows had been boarded up so that he was unable to view the outside world. His world now consisted of these four walls.
On their left of the dark passageway Michael could make out two locked doors.
One of the doors was opened from the inside and Michael was shoved into a large air-conditioned room of white-washed stone. The office contained a desk, a chair, a water cooler and a computer. There were two men standing in suits, but Michael concentrated on the man seated behind a desk.
The imposing man, who had the demeanor of a General going off to war, was barking orders on the phone. Michael only caught the tail end of it.
"God dammit! Find the B*stard traitor!"
The General then slammed the phone down. His demeanor changed when he saw Michael. His features relaxed slightly, but it was still solemn and stoned face. He did not say a word, seeming to be waiting for Michael to speak first.
"I don't suppose you have any aspirin," opened up Michael, who was still in a weakened state, "I've had the most ridiculous headache for hours."
When the General smiled, a gold tooth flashed, "Glad you are lucid, Westen. We have a few things to discuss, whether you are ready to or not."
Michael recognized that voice. It was the voice of one of his tormentors. So this was the person who had the power of cessation over his life. He would not let that thought consume him.
A spy learns that in a threatening situation, it is best to take each hour as it comes and not to anticipate beyond. Live for the minute until you can figure out how to live longer.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced," Michael began.
The General, or whoever he was, leaned forward in his chair and impaled Michael with a sharp glance, "I had hoped for a more intelligent comment from you, Mr. Westen. As a top notched spy, you are aware that in the espionage game, introductory names are superfluous."
Michael looked to his left and then to his right, at the two men standing near the door dressed in their suits with serious demeanors. He recalled what Agent Pearce had told him about corrupt CIA agents, who will stop at nothing to appease their own greed.
Michael concluded correctly that these were some of the unscrupulous CIA agents.
"Fine," Michael commented, "You don't talk, I don't talk either."
The General snorted.
"Except, as you can see, Westen," the General stated, "I am in command here. You have already experienced some of my methods for extracting the truth—they are very exact and brutal, as I am sure you can attest to."
Michael internally shuddered at the memories. He could not recall exactly what had been done to him, but he remembered feeling as if his internal organs had been burned and liquefied and then tossed into a black abyss over and over again.
"I am sure you are at the very top of your profession," responded Michael, "if the profession were made up of corrupt, demented CIA agents, that is."
The General did not look insulted as he leaned back, "So you DO know who we are."
There was a pause, before he added, "I could easily continue the torturing of you, Westen, but I am now thinking that you might be ready to cooperate willingly. I'd like to think we are civilized people, after all."
As Michael sat up, he grimaced, feeling the aftereffects of the punishment his body had received. He felt weak and rubbery inside.
"I agree," Michael stated, "I'm sure my moans of anguish must slow you down in getting the information you want from me."
The General brought his hands together, all tips of his fingers touching, "I have had quite a few jollys these past days watching you; your will to live is commendable, I must say. Lesser men would have crumbled. And now I understand why you are considered one of the best in the field. In that way you and I are alike."
Michael shrugged.
"Us, alike?" questioned Michael, "I only see differences, the major one being...I am not repulsively deranged," he stated with a straight face.
Incredibly, the General still managed to show no emotions as he spoke, "I like how you dare to match wits with me, knowing what I can do to you. You have indeed exceeded my expectations."
"I'm still waiting for you to reach mine," Michael challenged.
With that comment, the smile finally disappeared from the General's face, "It's best you kowtow to me, Westen. You have no idea whom you are dealing with!"
"Well, I can't know because you won't tell me anything," reminded Michael, being purposely difficult, "All I know is that I am still alive. So, therefore, I must be important to you."
There are times that a spy feels it is advantageous to make someone upset. A good example is when the spy wants to extract information from his adversary. An angry opponent will often open his mouth and shut his eyes.
The General was actually getting red in the face, " You, important? I have more impressive people working for me than you, believe me!"
From what Michael could ascertain, this General person, or whatever his name, was arrogant and prone to bragging. They were the best candidates to get information from because they loved to talk about their accomplishments.
"Oh?" Michael inquired, "So, I am not the only big fish in your little pond?"
"Let's just say," the General bragged, "that in addition to you, I have someone under my control who has a more impressive reputation among CIA agents than even you. His ruthlessness knows no bounds. He is a coldblooded killer, in fact."
Michael's mind still felt a little jumbled, but he knew how to play to the General's arrogance. There was only one person whose bad reputation struck fear for all CIA agents for the past five years.
"Are you referring to The Butcher?"
The General dropped his mouth, before recovering, "So say you."
"Is the Butcher involved in all of this?" Michael asked more insistently, as images of Fi entered his mind.
The General ignored that remarked, "It is I who will ask the questions, Westen! So, let's start over again, and hope I won't have to use the other method again."
Michael looked stoic, "Ask away."
The General looked Michael directly in the eyes, "You visited Nemo's Bookstore a few days ago, did you not?"
"I did," Michael answered.
A spy also knows the fastest way to get to the truth is to tell the truth.
"For what purpose?" he asked.
"This may be hard for you to understand," Michael stated, "but I was at the bookstore to buy a book."
Then again, sarcasm is intellect on the offensive. And it also makes for more entertaining conversation.
The General gave Michael a hard look. The other two men in the room pressed forward, but the General waved them away.
"What was the name of the book?" he inquired.
"Are you asking for a recommendation?" Michael asked, looking innocent.
One of the two men in suits moved forward and stood next to Michael. Michael knew what that meant. He'd better answer the questions if he wanted to stay in one piece.
Even now, Michael was having problems breathing without effort. It felt as if one of his lungs had been caved in. Best to be a little more cooperative.
"Okay, I get your point…Whatever book you were looking for, I had hoped to find it, too, " Michael declared, looking straight at the General, "however, I can honestly say, I do not have it."
At last the General looked pleased.
"Ahh! So you do know more than you let on!"
"Of course," said Michael, "From one good spy to an unscrupulous one, you should know that already."
"I also know more than you think," the General reached over and opened his file, "You were there in hopes of locating…an agent Fiona?"
The General paused for effect and when Michael did not answered he continued, "You inadvertently yelled out her name during one of our more, shall we say, intense interrogations."
"That so?" commented Michael, his senses on alert, as he tried to distract the General, "because I believe I was yelling out the name Theona."
The General smiled, "Do not play with me, Westen. We will find out the last name of this Fiona soon enough! I gather from what my associate had said that this Fiona is quite attractive. Perhaps this is the real reason you seeked her out, hmmm?"
Michael tried to maintain a placid facade, but his temple was throbbing. He purposely leaned forward at General's desk.
"Well," said Michael, working to keep his voice steady, "due to your interference, I was unable to retrieve her or the book."
Michael had leaned so far forward, in fact, that the guard that had been standing next to him, suddenly shoved him back down in his seat. Unbeknowest to either the guard or the General, Michael had slipped the heavy paperweight that had been on the desk, into his pants pocket.
The General stared at Michael with dislike," Next thing you'll be telling me is that you have no idea as to her location."
"I see we have played this game before," said Michael, " and in answer to your question, would I have been looking for her at the bookstore if I already knew where she was? Even a low level conniving agent such as yourself would have to admit, what I stated is logical."
Michael turned in anticipation of receiving a blow from the agent standing next to him. He knew in his weakened state, there was no way he could overcome three trained agents.
Fortunately the agent remained rooted in his spot.
The General, however, was getting impatient. He had learned nothing new at all, "I am starting to think you are not worth my time. At least try and convince me that your life is worth saving, Westen."
Michael knew the General meant business. He'd better do some fast doubletalk.
"It's in your best interest to keep me alive, if you want your microfilm, that is. You'll just have to be patient. It will come to you."
Now, the General was intrigued, "Explain yourself, Westen."
"It means," Michael said, "that sooner, more than later, Theona will come looking for me. At that point, you can interrogate her yourself."
The General had a glint in his eyes, And "I will take great pleasure in that! But for now, I tire of you." He gestured to the nearby agent, "Take him away for now, but make sure he eats something. He'll need his strength when I show our interrogation techniques to his captured friend."
Michael hoped he was right. Knowing Fi and Sam, they'd find a way to locate him. Right now, though, he was bone- tired exhausted. Wherever these agents were taking him, he just wanted to sleep.
Slowly Michael arose, trying hard not to let the paperweight he hid in his pants drop, "Oh, there is one other matter."
The General looked up with disdain, "What is it now?"
"The aspirin I asked about earlier. Do you have it?"
.
.
"Those evil CIA agents have Michael?" Fi was beside herself as she bitterly shouted the words at Hunter.
"Yeah, and they worked him over pretty good," said Gideon Hunter, looking unconcerned, "I should know, I was there in the room with him. You would have been proud how he held up."
Fi's face turned an angry shade of red and she reached over and gave him the hardest of slaps, this time leaving an obvious handprint on the side of his face.
"You were there? You were goddamn there and you didn't stop them?" She was screaming.
Instantly, Sam grabbed her and with the help of Roberto, they prevented Fi from causing further harm to Hunter. Even with two strong men, they found it hard to control a struggling Fi.
"Fi, stop it! Just stop it!" breathed out Sam who had a hard time controlling Fi, "You're not helping matters!"
But Fi was having none of it, "Sam! Michael is in danger because of me!" she yelled, along with some expletives.
"Senorita, please!" Roberto attempted, but it was difficult as he scrambled to keep his hold on her.
"LET ME AT HIM!" Fi attempted to kick Hunter, forcing Sam and Roberto to drag her further back, but she continued kicking at the air.
"Fi!" Sam tried to reason with her, "Stop! Knock off the wrestling match with us too, it only wastes time! Don't you want to save Michael?"
The last part of what Sam said affected her as she at last stopped trying to wrangle away from the men. She remained still.
Both men breathed a sigh of relief.
"Good, Senorita," Roberto said, "Now…we will let you go and you will be peaceful, yes?"
Fi gave one last frustrated motion.
"Yes..." Fi relented, "YES, but only because I need to find out where they have Michael."
"We will ALL find out where Michael is," Sam said as he tentatively took his grasp off of Fi.
Roberto glared at Hunter, "You talk now, Killer!"
"Those CIA idiots have no idea I had the microfilm all along." Hunter stated, looking relaxed, "so yeah, they pulled out all the stops in getting Westen to talk. I tried my best to soften their 'techniques' when they interrogated Westen about your names and the location of the book, but there was only so much I could do without giving myself away. However, let me assure you, he could have suffered worst without me."
"You. Let. Him. Be. Tortured!" Fi gave him a death stare.
Hunter shrugged, "I saved his life."
"So," Roberto said, "If we turn you in, you will turn this microfilm in as well as testify against these CIA hoodlums?"
Hunter nodded, "Yes, you have my word."
"Your word doesn't amount to much, does it?" glared a still angry Fi, "You've double crossed the double crossers!
He looked back at her with disdain, "You have no other choice but to trust me."
"So you know exactly where they are keeping Michael?" Sam questioned.
"Of course, " volunteered Hunter, "there are a row of office buildings just off the International Airport. I can take you there."
"No way, " responded Sam, "no way in hell we are letting you leave this facility."
"I agree," nodded Roberto, "So, you wish I stay here to watch him, Amigo?"
"I wouldn't trust you with a ten foot pole!" announced Fi to Roberto, "in fact, I'd probably hit you on the head with it!"
The comment threw Roberto for a loop, "You have been talking such crazy things to me all the time now! What is wrong with you, Senorita?"
"Nothing is wrong with me!" Fi showing her obvious mistrust of him, "I'm just saying that I'd like to senor your ita!"
Roberto pleaded with Sam, "Amigo, please, explain..."
"Look, tensions are just high, alright?" Sam said, trying to ease the situation, "She didn't mean anything by what she said, Roberto."
Fi l folded her arms and looked away.
"So…" Roberto with a furrowed brow asked, "What you two want me to do?"
"Actually, Roberto," Sam decided, "we could do with an extra hand out there in the real world. You should come with us. I think if we lock Hunter down tight, Peppino should be able to handle him."
Roberto nodded, "Whatever you say, my friend, I am here for you."
"Hah!" Fi countered.
She skeptically eyed Sam's supposed friend.
"You just better watch your back, Roberto," warned Fi, "because I'll be stabbing you in the front if I find out you are part of Michael's kidnapping!"
"Senorita..." Roberto seemed to be pleading, "I-I not...
"Enough of talk!" Fi exclaimed decisively,"...let's go save Michael!"
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