This was far more serious than Stansfield had expected. He knew Lewis as a thoughtful man who was very thorough about his recommendations. This was the first time in three years that he had suggested such a thing. Stansfield had no illusions about who he was. He’d killed men before and he’d ordered men killed. It was part of his job description. “I’ll take all of this under advisement.” Stansfield left the mirror and then stopped and looked back at Lewis. “And what would you have me do with Stan?”
Lewis had some very strong opinions on the subject, but he was not so presumptuous as to think that he should offer them to Stansfield. “You know him better than any of us, sir. I think you are more than capable of making that decision on your own.”
The faintest of smiles creased Stansfield’s mouth. “You’re a smart man, Tom. I appreciate your honesty.”
CHAPTER 43
JIM Talmage had his equipment set up in the observation room where he could monitor Bramble via cameras and sensors that were attached to various parts of the subject’s body to measure blood pressure, pulse, skin conductivity, and respiration. Talmage knew he could fool a polygraph 100 percent of the time and he knew Hurley could as well, because they’d practiced on each other. Having operated in Indian country for much of their careers, it was a job requirement should they be dragged in by another intelligence agency or worse, a terrorist organization. Being able to trick the polygraph could often mean the difference between life and death.
Stansfield appeared at Talmage’s side. “How’s it going?”
Talmage shook his head. “Not good.”
“He’s lying?”
“I’m not sure . . . that’s the problem.”
“Is he being evasive?” Stansfield asked.
“Yeah, but it’s more than that. I think he knows just enough to beat the machine, and it’s not helping that Stan’s doing a shitty job.”
“How so?”
“I’ve seen him press a lot harder than this. I can usually predict his next question. You need to get the guy thinking about one thing, get him leaning in a certain direction, and them slap him in the face with an accusation, try to trip him up and see how he’s going to react.”
“And he’s not doing that.”
“Nope. He’s letting this guy tell his story. Every once in a while he’ll go back and review something . . . ask him for clarification.”
Stansfield was no novice when it came to polygraphs. He’d been given more of them than he could count and he’d ordered thousands. There were a lot of different techniques. Talmage had just described a technique they called giving the subject enough rope to hang himself. “That doesn’t sound unusual.”
Talmage shook his head and frowned. “Some people do it that way, but I can’t even count how many of these I’ve done with Stan. This isn’t his style. He’s like a street fighter. Nothing’s off-limits. Once he starts, he attacks and keeps attacking until he’s got the guy so flustered he wouldn’t dare lie to him.”
Stansfield considered the situation and then asked, “Should I pull him?”
Now Talmage got really uncomfortable. “That’s up to you, boss, but if there’s any criticism it better come from you. I don’t feel like getting my head bitten off.”
“Got it.” Stansfield didn’t show it, but he was extremely unhappy that he’d let Hurley create an environment in which everyone was afraid to express an opinion. He turned to Kennedy and Lewis and said, “Why don’t you two go check your voicemail? I need to have a word with Stan.” He patted Talmage on the shoulder and said, “Tell him to take a break.”
Talmage leaned forward and pressed the Transmit button on the microphone. “Guys, let’s take a break. Victor, can we bring you anything?”
Victor asked for a black coffee.
Talmage looked through the glass at the big oaf. He should know better. “You know we can’t give you coffee.”
“Fine,” the voice came over the speakers, “I’ll take water.”
Hurley got up and left the interrogation room. A moment later he joined Stansfield and Talmage. He looked at Talmage and said, “I think it’s going pretty well. How do the readouts look?”
“Like shit.”
Before Hurley could respond, Stansfield said, “Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?”
“What are you talking about? I’m trying to get the truth out of him.”
“I don’t think you are,” Stansfield said, without any extra emotion.
Hurley’s face twisted into a pissed-off scowl. “Listen, this ain’t my first rodeo. I don’t stick my nose in what goes on in the rarefied air of the seventh floor at Langley. Just let me do my job like I let you do yours.”
“Let?” A touch of anger crept into Stansfield’s voice. “You seem to be confused about something, Stanley. I’m your boss. I’m your superior. I’m the one who gives orders. I don’t just let you do your job, my job is to manage you. You don’t let me do anything. You’re my subordinate. Do you understand that?”
“I don’t understand what the fucking problem is. I’ve been warning you for two years that Rapp was going to blow up in our faces and lo and behold it happens, and now everyone’s pissed at me. I don’t need this shit. Victor is telling the truth. It’s obvious, and the rest of you better wake up and figure it out.”
“We don’t know if Victor is telling the truth, because you’re going so easy on him, Jim can’t get any readings that are worth a crap.”
“What the fuck would you know about interrogating someone?”
