comfort from the less-than-stellar report on Cain’s health.
“Can I see her?” Hayden asked.
“Not tonight. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep, and tomorrow morning we’ll see?” The doors swished silently as he stepped back through them, leaving the family alone.
*
“Are you comfortable, Barney?” George sat in the rigid chair across from the agent and took a sip of the coffee he’d brought with him.
Kyle leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest to try to intimidate the attorney into letting him go. Nothing else had worked, and he had been alone in the interrogation room for over three hours. He felt confident that whatever the problem was, he was only minutes from securing his freedom. All his years in law enforcement had made him an expert on the tactics they were using on him. It would take torture to break him, of that he was sure.
“You want to just get to it, George. I’ve got a crime scene to get back to, and all this bullshit is really cutting into my night.”
“I’m afraid there’s a little problem in just letting you walk out of here, Barney. Surely you can understand we have to follow the procedures, especially when someone such as you is involved. We can clear this up really quickly, though, if you just want to answer some questions and explain a few things.”
The smirk George was more than familiar with was plastered on Kyle’s face, and he returned it in kind. It would be a good feeling, he thought, to be the one who knocked it off.
“Sure, shoot. Give it your best, George.”
“When did you become Giovanni Bracato’s whipping boy, Barney?”
Anthony, Lionel, and Joe almost choked on their coffee on the other side of the mirror. They would have given their boss some more talk before just getting to it, the old proverbial rope that would eventually hang him. Maybe they could learn something from this old warrior. Kyle’s pale face was testament to that.
Two minutes ticked by before Kyle felt ready to talk. He used the time to gather his thoughts and retrace where he might have gone wrong.
The silence only confirmed his guilt to George. Innocent people never shut up when they put them in these rooms. They were always eager to prove they didn’t do it.
“I have no idea—” said Kyle.
“What I’m talking about,” George finished for him. “Do you want an attorney present? I’m sure you’ve read that list of rights enough to know yours.”
“I don’t need an attorney. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“This is the part where I usually tell the cocky bastard in the chair that if he cooperates things will go better for him. That is, when I took the time to come down to the bowels of the building and help out with the questioning. So, Barney, if you cooperate maybe we can work something out for you. I’m picturing something along the line of minimum security, if you play this right and help us out.”
Kyle laughed and leaned forward, putting his hands flat on the table. “Go fuck yourself, George, and like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I would imagine you took more than your share of psychology classes before getting that more-than-nifty badge you have, am I right?”
Kyle nodded and didn’t say anything, wondering where George was going with this.
The other agents watching also wondered what everyone referred to as mind-bending classes had to do with what Kyle had done.
“Placing your hands flat on the table like that is a sign that you’re lying. Rapid eye blinking is another dead giveaway.” George almost laughed when Kyle jerked his hands back to his lap and tried to pry his eyes open and keep their movement down to a minimum.
“George, we’ve known each other a long time. You can’t be serious in thinking I would help an animal like Bracato. My career means everything to me.”
“It meant everything to that fellow in Virginia, I’m sure, but he sold out his country for the cash. What you did, though, is help someone bring more poison into our city and become a paid enforcer to get rid of Bracato’s enemies. His main one just got out of surgery, and, like I told you at the warehouse, you’d better start praying she makes it through this. Because, old friend, if she doesn’t, I’m going to add murder to the list of indictments. You shot an unarmed suspect on direct orders from a known crime boss. Are you sure you don’t want an attorney present for this?”
“There’s no way you can prove any of this, because it didn’t happen.” Almost as if without his permission, Kyle’s hands were back on the table and he had started blinking.
It was getting late and George had tired of the game. He got up and tapped on the glass to get the others to join them. Three chairs had sat empty throughout their talk, and Kyle hadn’t even bothered to notice. The veins in his forehead, though, were noticeable when his underlings filed in and took a seat.
“You all will be investigating ice-flow patterns in Antarctica when I’m done with you.”
His glare didn’t work, and Anthony placed the folder they had showed George in the middle of the table. The young agent started placing pictures on the metal surface and kept at it until the whole table was covered.
Kyle looked down and saw himself accepting thick envelopes from a smiling Giovanni Bracato. Whoever had been behind the camera had even gotten a shot of him counting the payoff.
When Anthony pulled out all the relevant photos, he put a small tape recorder in front of Kyle and pressed the play button. The volume was set so that the two people on the tape filled the room.
At the end of the question everyone heard the speaker spit something out. In front of his boss, Simmons placed a picture of Giovanni spitting out the end of the cigar he was chewing into the river.
