But it was his eyes that disturbed Jack the most. They were dark, malevolent, and fixed on Jack, like a predator lying in wait to strike down its innocent prey. He studied Jack for several seconds before turning his assessing eyes on Peter and Dorran.
Casey walked backward, practically disappearing into the corner. He spun his rifle forward, gripping it tightly to his chest, thumbing off the safety as if to send a message.
The three sat down before Cristos, Dorran in the middle, Peter to his left, Jack to his right.
“I am Special Agent Carter Dorran. You are in the custody of the United States government and the state of New York and are being charged with murder. This is Peter Womack from the U.S. Justice Department.” Carter pointed at Peter and then at Jack. “And Jack Keeler, the DA from New York City. Would you like an attorney?”
“Not yet,” Cristos said softly.
“Understand that our legal system provides-”
“You should be aware that I understand your judicial process as well as, if not better than, you.” Cristos spoke as if he wasn’t bound, as if he wasn’t being interrogated, as if he was before a legal committee in a large corporation.
“Do you wish to offer a confession,” Dorran said, “or should we proceed?”
Cristos nodded.
“Can you explain what you were doing in that building’s elevator shaft?”
“No,” Cristos answered.
“Were you in the Bonsleys’ apartment?”
As Dorran continued his questioning, Jack opened the file and examined the images of the dead general, a single bullet hole above his left eye; of the Bonsleys’ laid out against each other, their heads tilted at odd, impossible angles. Jack fought the sour feeling in his stomach, trying to hide the emotion from his face.
While most would succumb to the horror and reality of death, of brutal murder, their minds overcome with grief and revulsion, Jack was different. Anger had arisen in him at the violation of the most basic tenet of human existence.
As he continued listening to the line of questioning, in a slow reveal of emotion, Cristos smiled as he glimpsed Jack’s reaction.
“You killed a head of state,” Peter said. “Was this on behalf of a foreign government?”
Cristos took a deep breath and turned his full attention to Jack. “Mr. Keeler is the most skilled man in the room, yet he is silent.”
Peter paused a moment before continuing. “Are you working on behalf-”
“I’m only going to have a conversation with one of you,” Cristos said, still staring at Jack.
“You don’t dictate how this interrogation goes,” Dorran said.
Cristos glanced at Jack’s wedding ring. “Married?”
Jack didn’t respond.
“Children?” Cristos paused. “Children are amazing. They make us see the world from a whole new perspective. They teach us patience, tolerance, and sacrifice.”
Jack stared at Cristos, assessing him, letting him continue.
“It’s interesting how every child starts off innocent,” Cristos continued, “but each follows a different path. Some become men like you; some become men like the general; some become like me.” Cristos paused. “Do you think it’s fate, someone pulling strings, or do we choose our own path?”
Jack had conducted too many interrogations to count. There were moments to listen, moments to speak, moments to challenge, and moments to play mind games. He knew the personality types: the passive-aggressive who attacked with charm; the ultraviolent whose rage was obvious and explosive; the compliant and cooperative who answered every question without hesitation, weaving stories on the spot that they believed as much as they hoped the interrogator would. And then there were the types like Cristos.
“What you did today was monstrous,” Jack finally said.
Cristos leaned forward, becoming more attentive.
“In the last twenty-four hours,” Jack continued, “you took three lives.”
“And how many did I save in the process?”
“Save?” Jack asked with a raised brow.
“How many people would have died at the order of the general just in the next month?”
“So your defense is that you killed three to save more?” Dorran said, trying to reenter and resume control of the conversation. “Well, that’s not how it works.”
Cristos ignored Dorran and spoke directly to Jack. “When a soldier, a military man, kills another man, when a fighter jet drops a bomb destroying a village, it’s for honor and country. But when an individual kills, it is called murder. Why is that?”
“Don’t equate war with this,” Jack said.
“We’re all at war in some way or another. Some people use their words to fight, to tear the opposition apart emotionally. Others”-Cristos tilted his head at Jack and Peter-“use their legal system of laws, to take down and destroy their opponents’ freedom and security. And others forgo destroying the character, choosing just to eliminate the individual altogether.”
“Did the Bonsleys deserve to die?”
“Do the people in a poor village where an errant bomb was dropped deserve to die? Dispatching death in a war, when a country deems it necessary to success, is understood by humanity, but when it deals in eliminating a single man, when the public doesn’t understand its purpose, it’s horrific, shocking, evil.”
“Did you kill those three people today?” Jack asked.
Cristos smiled. “You’re going to have to do at least a little work here, Jack. Let me ask you a question. Are you the type who is more interested in justice, truth, or an eye for an eye?”
Jack said nothing.
“Could you look me in the eye and kill me so others might live? Put your lawyerly self aside. Could you be the hangman? Hold the pistol to my head and pull the trigger to save lives?” Cristos paused, waiting for Jack to answer. “I didn’t think so. It’s always so much easier from behind the curtain, pulling other people’s strings to do your bidding. Well… I just think you should know, if you asked me the same question, I’d have no problem laying that pistol right up against your temple and pulling the trigger.”
“Too bad you’ll never get that chance. You no longer have control of any strings.”
“You think you’re in control here.” Cristos smiled. “But are you?”
Jack stared at him.
“Do you know whom to trust? You don’t think I’ve been captured before? You don’t think I have ever escaped?” Cristos smiled again. “Always remember, control is tenuous at best.”
“I’ll remember that,” Jack said with a placating tone as he looked at Cristos’s chains.
The two men studied each other, the moment drawing out.
“OK,” Dorran said. “I think-”
“I was in love once.” Cristos ignored Dorran, cutting him off.
“And she loved you in return?” Jack asked.
“She died before I ever knew the truth.”
“Is that supposed to make me sympathetic?”
“No, just a reminder.” Cristos looked at Jack’s wedding ring. “We never know how long we have with the ones we love.”
Anger flowed into Jack’s face, wiping his calm away as he realized that he had let Cristos lead the conversation. “We’re done,” Jack said as he stood up. Dorran and Peter followed his lead.
“Are we going to finish our conversation?” Cristos said.
“You are being charged with the murder of three individuals,” Jack said as he looked into Cristos’s dark eyes. “We have every intention to try, convict, and see you executed for the deeds you have done. Your smugness, your overconfidence, will only help me make this happen quicker.”
Jack turned and headed for the door.
“I’d hold tight to your wife and kids,” Cristos said. “God knows what might happen if a monster like me ever got hold of them.”
Jack, Peter, and Dorran silently walked through the grand mansion, past the library and the parlor; this time,
