now it was wavering between 10 and 13 Hz, which I guess polygraph devotees would call normal stress.
“Would you please tell us, what is your primary affiliation or loyalty?” Grgur asked.
“EGP,” No Way said. That is, the Ejercito Guerrillero de los Pobres, the Guerrilla Army of the Poor.
“Would you list your military affiliations?”
“EGP only.”
“Would you tell us your position within that organization?”
“Clase de tropa,” No Way said. It was like a noncommissioned officer.
“Would you tell us your serial number?”
“There are no numbers.”
Grgur didn’t pursue it. Maybe he knew it was true. Anyway, the program recalibrated itself and marked the response as normal.
“Would you please tell us your commanding officer within that organization?”
“Carlos.” Carlos was the head of the whole movement, like Marcos had been in southern Mexico in the early nineties, and like Marcos he wore sunglasses and a bandana and nobody knew who he really was. Or whether he was even one person.
“Would you tell us the names of the other officers in your cell?”
“Rodriguez, Infante, Kauffman, Noxac, Rueda.”
“None of those check out,” Grgur said.
“Then I don’t know the real ones,” No Way said.
“Would you tell us the names of the other officers in your cell?”
“Rodriguez, Infante, Zaya-”
The voltmeter darted to ten thousand and hung there for 2.1 seconds. No Way’s backed arched and bounced and he let out a tiny whistling screech.
“That’s bullshit,” Grgur said. “Listen. Would you please tell us the name of your contact?”
“Did you come?” No Way asked.
“Who’s your current contact?”
“Nestor Xconilha.”
“Would you please tell us the name of your current controller?”
“Also Nestor Xconilha.”
“Who is your backup?” He meant the person who comes looking for you.
“I have no backup on this job.”
“When is your gone-missing date?”
“Today.”
“How long will it be before your organization starts looking for you?”
“They may be looking for me now.”
“We weren’t due to finish until tomorrow.”
“I was supposed to report today.”
“Who can we contact to back that up?”
“They won’t answer any contacts,” No Way said.
“What call signals can you give us to help you make the report?”
“No, they won’t.”
“If we let you make the contact, will you arrange for them to meet us here?”
“Sure.”
“I have a problem with your physical readings on that answer,” Grgur said.
“You’re right, you’re right, they won’t,” No Way said. “That’s against policy. They’re too careful for that.”
“So what would we do then?”
“Meet, uh, prearranged place,” No Way said.
“Can I ask where is that?”
“Poptun.”
“I don’t think that’s right,” Grgur said. “Listen. You know about the new polygraph feedback software, don’t you?” “No,” No Way said. He was hoping they’d take time to explain it to them.
“Yes, you do,” Grgur said, “we can tell. Even on a trivial question like that one.”
“Okay,” No Way said. I could tell he knew it was bullshit, though. And I think Grgur could tell that too. Not that the thing wasn’t sensitive, but all real interrogators know that no matter how many readings you get, they don’t always have much to do with the truth as such. If anything, they have to do with how much the subject expects and fears the next burst of pain. So if he thinks lying’s going to avert it, his readings might go down on a lie, not up. But I guess they were hoping to get enough out of all their data back at the ranch. At least on one or two key issues.
“Who should we contact if we have to release you to the Guates’ army patrol?” Grgur asked.
“Nobody.”
“Who should we contact if you were detained, injured, or killed?”
“Nobody.”
“Listen, believe it or not, we’re not hostile to you,” Grgur said. “We are somewhat hostile to the current administration of this country and we had the impression you were too. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Would you please tell us what your cell knows about this operation?” Grgur asked. At least for now he wasn’t pursuing the names thing. Maybe they really weren’t after that.
“Do you mean this particular looting expedition?” No Way asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know anything about it myself.”
“What does your cell know?”
“They don’t know anything, I’ve been out of contact since August thirtieth.”
“Would you please tell us what Mr. DeLanda has told you about this operation?”
“Nothing. Wait, nothing besides your schedule and that you were digging and had to keep it quiet.”
“You’re sure that’s everything?”
“Yes, I even asked whether you were after jade masks or what and he said he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Can you tell us what you know about the settlement at Pusilha?” Grgur meant the Stake, but I guess he wasn’t supposed to call it that.
“I know there’s been a lot of real estate bought in the area. By the Morons. Four plantations, water rights… that’s it.”
“Are you sure?”
“They’re building landing strips and a control tower.”
“What else?”
“That’s it,” No Way said. He didn’t look so good. Since the beginning of the interview his blood pressure had gone from 135 over 80 to 155 over 95, and the pneumograph said his breathing was up to twenty-five breaths per minute.
“Would you please tell us everything Mr. DeLanda told you about the settlement at Pusilha?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that you’d come through there. I supposed his employers had something to do with it. But he didn’t tell me that.”
“Mr. DeLanda tells us you alerted this patrol to our location. Would you like to give us your side of the story on that?”
There was a pause.
(97)
No Way knew that was a total lie, of course. It was too close to book procedure, trying to make the subject feel betrayed.
