Free writing #4a

        The interrogation lasted fourteen hours. Miranda’s and Jessabelle’s original six hours, and my eight hours. As far as interrogations go, it was very successful, or so it would seem. My method leaves a very heavy toll, which is on both the victim and the interrogator. The victim, of course feels violated and powerless. This feeling usually lasts for a few weeks, but could last forever. However, the interrogator must pull himself away from the darkness of complete control. In the field, the special forces switch out, each person spending no longer than six hours in control each day. A lone operative is advised to spend as little time as four hours, whereas an expert on the subject could theoretically withstand as long as fourteen hours in control. I was good, but I was no expert.

        When I finished, I left the cellar in a stride, and went up the stairs in a slump. Iron bars were across my heart, ice was formed in my mind. I clutched my folder of notes. A pearly tear fell from the corner of my eye. It splashed on the coarse dark wood of the stairs. The click of each heel as I went up echoed up my spine. Jessabelle had long since left the sitting room, in her place was Enrique Demarcus, who was Miranda’s second in command.

        “Is it done?” He asked. I replied with a curt nod and held out my folder of notes.

        “That’s everything, all the information she had.” He hefted it in his hand and looked up to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. He gave me one of his famous fatherly smiles, and took to the door notes in hand.

        I was glad he didn’t ask me any questions. I badly needed to recover from the interrogation. There was a bar on the ground floor of my hotel. I would go there and release these bars and melt my well-formed ice. If Miranda wished to talk, she would need to find me there.

        “His name is Dimitri Lobachevski. He’s working under deep cover to destroy your organization.” I reported to Miranda as I finished my third cocktail. Miranda was the blonde, middle-aged head of a magic smuggling ring that operated across the Republic of the United Cities. I had been working with her and her officers to establish a smuggling route that would allow me collect and sell fae blood in addition to the fireleaf I already produced. Miranda was very involved in the work, and I’d come to like her as a sublime business partner. Today she seemed to be quite beautiful as well, though that may have been the alcohol.

        “I didn’t think you drank on the job.” She scolded.

        “I make two exceptions” I straightened up. “When I’ve been badly wounded, and when I’ve been interrogating.”

        She raised one eyebrow, “I didn’t think an interrogation merited celebration.”

        “Celebration!” I turned to face her, cocktail number four in hand. “This isn’t celebration, this is a safeguard.”

        I received a look of disapproval, not that I took much notice of it. “Fine. What can we do about this undercover Carmalkan spy?”

        “He’s not Carmalkan.” I uttered. “I mean he is from Carmalka but he’s working for the R.U.C. inter-city police.” I took a sip of honey, lemon and gin. “He’s working for them to shut you down and capture you. Has been for two, three years. Abagail in the cellar didn’t know how long in total, she was recruited last year.”

        “How can we find him?” Miranda inquired.

        “I have no idea.” I shook my head. “Those secret service ones are tricky, they don’t follow any, hm, any clear rules. Plus he’s been here a while, enough time to set up his own system. Trained Abagail himself took about six weeks to do it. Odds are we won’t find him for several weeks.”

        Miranda gave me an annoyed look that I was too far gone to appreciate. “Are there no other bases we could search for? No known contacts we could hunt down?”

        “Maybe, I got a list all the names she remembered and as many meeting places as she knew about. I gave it to your guy Enrique. I also made a list of all her known associates as well as whatever professional knowledge she had. Gave those to Enrique too.” I downed the last of number four. “I’ll look at them myself when I’m sober.”

        “You don’t look so bad right now.” She said meaningfully.

        “I will look better in the morning. I haven’t slept since before John went and got captured.” I looked down. “Poor Jacob, poor Edward.” I asked the bartender for a glass of wine.

        “I think you’ve had enough for an evening, we need you alert tomorrow.”

        “Then you should have done a better job interrogating Abagail. Then I’d have stopped at one cocktail. But you failed and I had to do it and know I’m recovering.” I was starting to get angry. “Besides if you had your men in the casino like I’d asked you, then John wouldn’t have been caught and two men wouldn’t have died.” I took a gulp of the wine. “You don’t get to choose what I do now, because I’m in this mess because of two people, and you’re one of ‘em.” I put down what was left of the wine. “I’m returning to my room, if you want anything else, wait till tomorrow.” I went off toward the elevator, grumbling in carmalkan. After flinching out of the way of a stationary column, I made it to the elevator and the attendant within.

        “Floor sir?” He asked

        “I’d prefer a bed, but I suppose the floor would do.” I chuckled at my joke. Then I realized I said it in carmalkan. I switched to common “floor seven please,” I answered leaning against the side of the lift.

        The attendant was good, a true professional, he said nothing to me in my dizzy state. I tipped him whatever bill it was I had in my pocket, I think it was a ten because he gave a low whistle and flowing thanks. I made my way over to my room, which thankfully was very near to the elevator. I stood outside my door for a moment, I wasn’t sure why I was hesitating and fiddling with my room key. Then slowly I realized, there was a faint chiming coming from inside my room. I cursed my luck. Someone was spying on my room and I was just standing there drunk.