the back of his neck. “You realize that the next meeting isn’t scheduled until after the holidays, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ll send some memos urging an emergency meeting.” It felt wrong that Taylor would remain in custody due to something as simple as the schedule of a meeting. “I’m not sure it’ll make a difference though. They might not even take our recommendations.” He stood and pushed in his chair.
“Then why did they have us do the questioning? It wouldn’t look good to ignore us. You think the other agencies will go along with it? What about law enforcement?” Bill rose and walked alongside Jim as they exited the room.
“I believe they will. If they have info that they’re withholding, they’ll have to show it, or give a damn good reason to keep Taylor in custody.” Jim strode down the hall, hoping like hell he wouldn’t ever have to return to that room.
They reached Bill’s office first, and Jim leaned against the door frame after Bill entered. “We have to make this happen ASAP, Bill.” Jim tapped the files against his thigh. “I don’t know how long Taylor will hang on. He’s spiraling down.”
Bill plopped onto his chair. “Yeah, I noticed.” He leaned back. “In the meantime, we can try and lighten things up a little.”
“Will the protocol allow that? We’re supposed to follow the same guidelines as the other place.”
“Screw the protocol.” Bill grimaced.
Jim smiled. “See what you can do in that regard. I’ll get on the horn and start making calls, see if I can expedite the matter.”
In the weeks since he and Bill had made their suggestion for an emergency meeting, nothing had happened. Someone always had a reason they couldn’t attend. The fact that a man languished behind bars didn’t seem to add any urgency in the other council members’ minds.
Bill’s attempts to lighten things had only gone as far as halting further interrogations. The security at the prison had enforced their own measures after Taylor’s outburst of throwing food around his cell. Now, he was confined to his cell at all times, except for showers.
Jim opened Taylor’s file to add another email to the list he’d begun after the decision to make their recommendation to free Taylor. He hadn’t realized what a tricky and protracted task it would be to convince the people with authority that Taylor was not a security threat to the United States. If nothing else, Taylor should get an official hearing. The fact that one hadn’t taken place yet rankled Jim. It wasn’t the American way.
Two hours later, he printed out his advisement that in light of no new information, and the questionable sources for the Afghanistan claim, it was his opinion there was no merit for keeping Taylor in detention. Bill had completed his own recommendations that he held doubt about the man’s guilt.
He stretched, grimacing at a twinge of stiffness in his back. He’d been sitting so long, his back creaked when he stood and crossed to the window. Would the powers that be follow their recommendations? If they did, how long would it take? The wheels of government spun at a snail’s pace, but maybe since there had never been formal charges, it wouldn’t take much longer to straighten the mess out and free Taylor.
Mark stopped mid push-up when the slot on his door opened. It was too soon for the next meal. The command to present his hands and feet for shackles came over the speaker.
Since his outburst a few months ago, his outdoor excursions had been curtailed. Since he had showered yesterday, that could mean only one thing. Interrogation.
He pushed back to a kneeling position, unable to force himself to stand right away. Since the last interrogation, his thoughts had touched on finding a way to end it all. In his whole life, he had never felt that way, but there was no end in sight here. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to live like this.
So far, whenever the despair hit and his mind flashed to suicide, he had been able to shove the thought out of his head. If he underwent another brutal questioning, he wasn’t sure he would be strong enough to quell those demons.
The command came over the speaker a second time and Mark stood, swiping his head on his shoulder as sweat dripped. His feet felt encased in cement as he approached the door.
He tried not to react when in addition to the usual shackles, they used the blackout goggles and the earphones. Did that mean he was going somewhere besides the interrogation room? Swallowing hard, he couldn’t help balking at the application of the goggles.
Interrogation was bad, but at least he knew what to expect. What if they had something worse in store? Mark couldn’t imagine anything worse, but he was sure that they could.
Lost in a vacuum of sensory deprivation, Mark stumbled along, sitting when pushed down, standing when pulled up and walking when tugged forward. He felt vibrations under his feet for awhile and knew he was in a vehicle, but time blurred and he had no way to judge the distance he’d been driven.
After leaving the car, he was walked another distance before they stopped him and hands worked at the goggles and earphones, removing them. Mark blinked in the bright lights and squinted at his surroundings. A locker room? What the hell was he doing here? The guards removed his shackles and instructed him to strip. Mark hesitated as fear boiled within him. An image of the Nazi death camps and the gas chambers shot through his mind and he shook it off. That was crazy. He removed his clothes, hoping that his shaking wasn’t apparent. One guard pointed behind Mark. “Okay, let’s go. There’s a shower back there. Supposed to be everything you need to get cleaned up.”
A shower? They did all this for him to take a shower? Confused, Mark followed the guard, alert for any tricks. Not that he could do anything to protect himself even if there were.
To his amazement, there was a shower stall. Several in fact, but the one they directed him to had a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap-brand new-sitting on a metal shelf. He needed no further prodding.
The soap smelled clean and fresh, not the antiseptic smelling stuff he normally had to use. He raised the bar to his nose, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply. Images of sand and surf and lazy summer days lying on the beach swirled through his mind. The scent filled the stall as the hot water beat on his back. He wanted to stay in that stall and never come out. In here, he could push aside the worry of what was coming next. He could stay in the present. Forever.
When he finished, he was given a razor and shaving cream, and the guards didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get the blade back. They led him to a locker that held a clean set of clothes, and told him to get dressed. Mark clasped the white button-down shirt, looking from it to a pair of dark dress pants. Where was the orange prison suit? He squashed his fears and decided to just enjoy each little luxury instead of ruining it with worry. If they were getting ready to take him to the gas chamber, at least he would be wearing real clothes and he’d be clean.
Sitting on the bench, he pulled on black socks and shoes. The shoes were the biggest surprise. He hadn’t worn any for so long, and he wiggled his toes as he admired the shiny leather. They felt good. Real good. Standing, he looked down at himself and took a deep shaky breath. He felt human for the first time in over a year.
The guards put the shackles back on, and Mark tried not to let that bother him, especially since they didn’t reapply the goggles. They led him down a long hallway that looked like it could be a courthouse. He squared his shoulders. Maybe he would finally get to plead his case before a judge.
He was led to a small room, over to a table and instructed to sit. Beside him was an empty chair. The guards remained standing behind him. Across from the table where Mark sat, was a longer table. An American flag and a state flag in tall stands, flanked it. Four chairs faced him.
Across a narrow aisle was a table identical to his own, complete with two chairs. Mark glanced at the chair next to him, wondering who it was for.
The only sound in the room was an occasional creak of Mark’s chains and one of the guards coughed a few times. After waiting for several minutes, four military officers entered the room and strode past Mark without a
