He wasn't sure how long Max stayed in the room with him, all he knew was that he was in more pain than he had ever been. And this was just the beginning.
He was pretty sure a few hours had passed before the door slammed open once more. Light spilled in from the hallway, backlighting the person standing in the doorway. The hope that had grown when the door slammed open, that maybe his team had found him already, was extinguished when he took in the tall, curly-haired figure standing there.
"Well, looks like one of my tactics has already been used." The voice had a smooth southern drawl to it that took Tim by surprise. "Doesn't matter. Beating someone is one of the…cruder forms of persuasion. I usually use it as a starting point, though. It gives me a good gauge as to the…stamina, the will, the stubbornness of my target."
McGee just stared at the man. If he were writing a book, this would be an interesting element. A southern drawl was usually welcoming and warm, which made the words coming from this man all the more disconcerting. The man moved from the doorway, entering Tim's little circle of light as he set a case down on the table.
"You can call me Tom. It's not my real name, of course, but I thought you might want to put a name to the face," He said as he flipped the latches on his case.
Tim closed his eyes, trying to gather himself when Tom turned his back to him. And so it begins, he thought.
Gibbs strode into the interrogation room, not even looking at the man sitting at the table. He sat down and leaned back in his chair, reading his file. They weren't going to get much information from this guy-Not because he wouldn't crack, but because he was young. At 25 years of age, Brandon Jenkins had yet to lose that puppy dog look and probably hadn't been entrusted with any important information. Gibbs kept reading the file, despite the fact he knew everything in it already. It didn't matter, he was just waiting.
The minutes ticked by slowly, the suspect getting more and more anxious until-Wham!-Gibbs slammed the folder down and leveled a glare across the table. The young man jumped, his wide-eyes latching onto Gibbs, his fingers shaking slightly with nerves. Jenkins opened his mouth, then snapped it closed, his uncertainty at whether to spill what he knew or to keep quiet clearly evident in his actions.
"Where is my agent?" Gibbs asked quietly.
Jenkins opened his mouth, then snapped it closed again.
Gibbs slammed his hand down, "Where?"
"I don't know! I-I don't know where he is!"
"Then tell me what you do know," Gibbs ordered. Jenkins hesitated, but quickly started talking when Gibbs leaned slightly across the table.
"So, Agent McGee," Tom leaned back against the table, arms crossed, "will you help us?"
McGee's stomach clenched. He knew what was going to happen next. "No."
He was pleased at how calmly he spoke, but the pleasure was short-lived. Tom's hand hovered over the device he had just finished setting up. Then he smiled.
"I didn't think it would be that easy." Without another hesitation, he flipped a switch.