Geiger leaned down to Matthew’s face, and the client could see Matthew’s jaw joints flex with anxiety.
“Toscanini said he could tell if one string on one violin in a whole orchestra was out of tune. He didn’t have perfect pitch, but he’d listened to so many millions of notes that he could instantly tell what was true and what wasn’t.” Geiger took a breath. “So, Matthew-don’t lie to me.”
Matthew’s nostrils flared like a colt’s sensing smoke. Geiger leaned closer, until only the microphone was between his lips and Matthew’s.
“Did you hear what I said? Don’t lie to me! ”
The aural assault through the headphones made Matthew’s head recoil with such force the client thought his neck might break. His eyes snapped open, his mouth stretched into a cavernous circle, and his howling lasted a good five seconds before it shifted down into a sucking moan.
Geiger turned his head to one side, and the client heard the click of cervical vertebrae. Then Geiger turned it to the other side. Another click. The client tried to read Geiger’s face, but he couldn’t discern any particular emotion in it.
“Matthew,” Geiger said, “I need you to keep your eyes shut, stop moaning, and pay attention. Nod if you can do that.”
Matthew’s groan caught in his throat. His head rose and fell in a meager, marionettic response, and his eyes closed.
“Now, there are numerous applications of pain for specific scenarios-primarily physical, psychic, and emotional pain. In those categories are many subcategories. In the physical realm, there is audio…”
He rapped the microphone with his knuckles and Matthew’s head jerked, eyes springing open again.
“Eyes closed!”
Matthew howled, and Geiger gently put a fingertip on each of Matthew’s quivering eyelids and closed them. Then he placed a thumb on a spot two inches left of Matthew’s sternum.
“There is pressure…”
His thumb stiffened, and with almost no sign of effort he pushed inward and Matthew bellowed hoarsely, his face twisting in a toothy grimace. The client watched, amazed. He poked around curiously at his own ribs.
“There is blunt force…”
Geiger raised his arm, elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle. His forearm swung like a spring-action lever and smashed flush into Matthew’s chest, driving all breath out of him, leaving him gasping, desperate to suck air into his lungs.
“And there is penetration, slicing of flesh…”
Geiger paused.
“But that’s too medieval for me,” he continued. “However…”
His hand went behind his ear and slid something out. It was shiny and silver, four inches long, immeasurably thin.
“Open your eyes.”
Matthew’s lids rolled back. His brown eyes were laced with red thread.
“Do you know what this is?”
Matthew squinted at the thing between Geiger’s thumb and forefinger, and shook his head. The client found himself nodding. He’d once had a slipped disc, and he’d tried everything for some relief. He knew what it was.
“This is an acupuncture needle. Its primary function is to block impulses that the brain identifies as pain from traveling up and down neural paths. But it can also create pain.” The needle glinted in his fingertips like the minuscule sword of a toy hero. “There are ironies in my business that you can’t help but notice.”
The remark was spoken without a trace of humor or menace, and the lack of both made the hair on the back of the client’s neck stir. Geiger’s free hand grasped Matthew by the hair. A short yelp slipped from Matthew-not a response to pain but an involuntary bark of recognition of what was to come-and Geiger deftly inserted the needle between vertebrae in Matthew’s neck. Matthew didn’t flinch, and his gaze never left Geiger’s implacable face.
“The fact is, the human being is a remarkably vulnerable construct. This needle is lighter than a sparrow’s feather, Matthew. A child’s tear balanced on its end could bend it.”
Geiger wiggled the needle slightly, triggering a riff of shrill screams. Then he removed it and the yowling stopped. Tears streamed down Matthew’s cheeks, his breath racing in and out of him in short, tight huffs.
“There’s also manipulation of joints, application of intense heat and cold, forced ingestion of liquids. The fact is, Matthew, I could work on you for days without repeating a process.”
Geiger removed the headphones from Matthew’s head and put them and the microphone on the floor. “As for psychic pain, I think your sensitivity to physical stimuli makes that area unnecessary to explore. As for emotional pain-according to your file, you are single, unattached, an only child with no living parents, so I see no benefit in going there. You may not believe it, Matthew, but you’re a very lucky fellow.”
The client wanted Geiger to pound on Matthew so he’d confess and bring this to an end. Then the client could make his phone calls and go home. But he’d sensed when he’d met Geiger that it wouldn’t be like that.
“I’m not going to ask you yet, Matthew, because I can tell you’re not ready to tell the truth, and I don’t want to make you lie.”
“Ask whatever you goddamn want. I–I can’t tell you what I don’t fucking know.”
“That is true,” Geiger said. “Irrelevant, but true.”
A thought made the client’s stomach tighten. Could Matthew be telling the truth? Was it possible that someone else stole the R amp;D specs? Everything had pointed to Matthew, but…
“The well, Matthew,” said Geiger. “You’re down in the well, so close your eyes.”
Geiger’s hands moved to his sides, fingers constantly flicking the air. Watching, the client wondered if there was a pattern; it almost seemed as if Geiger were playing air piano.
“All right. You’ve been down there awhile, and the mind is affected when the body can’t move for long periods. Darkness and claustrophobia affect perception, sense of time, sense of self. They create an environment where emotional borders get fuzzy. Pain takes a backseat to fear. Hope dwindles, despair becomes a companion. Once that happens, you start to see who you really are-the depths and limits of your strength.”
Geiger knelt in front of Matthew. “And then you’re changed, Matthew, rearranged right down to the molecular level. It’s the ultimate wake-up call.”
Geiger closed his eyes and massaged them with a thumb and middle finger. They were measured, precise movements.
“We’ll take a short break now. You stay in the well.” He took a black silk blindfold from a pocket and tied it around Matthew’s face. “One other thing, Matthew. I’ve learned that once certain kinds of pain are experienced, the anticipation of further pain is almost as powerful as the sensation itself. I think in time you’ll agree with me.”
Geiger walked out of view and the lights went out again. A few seconds passed, and then the door to the viewing room opened and Geiger came in. Without looking at the client, he went to the bar, poured himself a glass of water, and started drinking.
“I’m a little worried,” said the client. “Do I have the right guy?”
Geiger nodded.
“You’re sure?”
Geiger nodded again.
“How do you know?”
“I explained that to Matthew.” He put the empty glass down. “You were listening, weren’t you?”
“Yeah-Toscanini. But why hasn’t he confessed yet?”
“He’s not at the release point yet. He’ll be there soon.”
“The release point?”
Geiger nodded once more, but looked as if he didn’t want to have to do it again. “Matthew is still more terrified of what might happen if he confesses than what will happen if he doesn’t. For the moment, the reality of torture is preferable to the possibility of death. But that will change.”
The client wondered what Geiger looked like when he smiled-if he ever smiled.
“We’re not going to have him killed,” the client said. “We just need to know who he sold the data to.”
Geiger stared at him with those unblinking eyes. “But he doesn’t know that.”
Geiger walked out. The client sighed and looked back to the mirror and the black abyss. The speakers delivered Geiger’s gentle voice to him on quivering wings of angels.
