Taylor made a face as if she already knew all this.
‘I’m a big girl, Robert. I know how to take care of myself.’
Hunter nodded. He hoped she was right.
Thirty-Three
Two metal fold-up chairs had already been placed side by side at the end of the corridor, directly in front of the last cell.
Lucien Folter was lying on his bed, motionless, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He could hear the steps coming down the hallway toward him. He stood up, faced the Plexiglas and waited. He looked and felt completely relaxed. Not an ounce of any sort of emotion showing on his face. A couple of seconds later Hunter and Taylor came into his line of sight, and the blank mask vanished, like an experienced actor who’d just been given his cue for the big scene.
He gave them a warm smile.
‘Welcome to my new home,’ he said in a calm voice, looking around himself. ‘As temporary as it may be.’
The cell was a rectangular box, eleven feet wide by thirteen feet deep. Just like the corridor outside, its walls were made up of cinder blocks painted a dull shade of gray. Other than the bed, which was mounted against the left wall, there was only a latrine and a washbasin against the far wall, and a small metal table with a metal bench, both bolted to the right wall and floor.
As if about to conduct a business meeting, Lucien pointed to the two chairs in the corridor.
‘Please have a seat.’
He waited for Hunter and Taylor to be seated before taking a seat himself at the edge of the bed.
‘Seven-thirty in the morning,’ Lucien said. ‘I love an early start. And as far as I can remember, so do you, Robert. Still can’t sleep?’
Hunter said nothing, but his insomnia wasn’t a big secret, or something he kept hidden from anyone, anyway. He had started experiencing sleepless nights at the early age of seven, just after cancer robbed him of his mother.
With no family other than his father, coping with his mother’s death proved to be a very painful and lonely task. He would lie awake at night, too sad to fall asleep, too scared to close his eyes, too proud to cry.
It was just after his mother’s funeral when he started fearing his dreams. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face, crying, contorted with pain, begging for help, praying for death. He saw her once fit-and-healthy body so drained of life, so fragile and weak, she couldn’t even sit up on her own strength. He saw a face that had once been beautiful, that had once carried the brightest smile and the kindest eyes he’d ever seen, transformed during those last few months into something unrecognizable. But it was still a face he’d never stopped loving.
Sleep and his dreams became the prison he’d do anything to escape from. Insomnia was the logical answer his body and brain found to deal with his fear and the ghastly nightmares that came at night. A simple but effective defense mechanism.
Lucien studied Hunter and Taylor’s faces for several seconds. ‘You’re still very good at not giving anything away, Robert,’ he said, shaking his finger in Hunter’s direction. ‘Actually, I’d say you got better at it, but you, Agent Taylor.’ His finger moved to her. ‘Are close, but not quite there yet. I assume you’ve found the box.
‘See, Agent Taylor.’ A new smile found its way onto Lucien’s lips. ‘That quick glance you gave Robert just confirmed my suspicion. You still have a bit to learn.’
Taylor looked unfazed.
Lucien’s smile widened.
‘You see Agent Taylor,’ he said. ‘Keeping a steady poker face takes a lot of practice. Creating a deceptive façade takes a lot more energy though, isn’t that right, Robert?’ Lucien knew Hunter wouldn’t reply, so he moved on. ‘Even you have to admit that I’ve now got mine down to perfection, haven’t I? You thought you could always tell when I was lying, didn’t you?’ He breathed in. ‘And you could, all those years ago, but not anymore.’ Lucien paused and scratched his chin. ‘Let me see now. What was it again? Oh yes. . this.’
Lucien looked straight into Hunter’s eyes, and suddenly his stare became a touch more focused, more determined. Then, for fraction of a second, his lower left eyelid tightened in an almost imperceptible movement. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t have seen it.
‘Did you catch that, Agent Taylor?’ Lucien followed his question with a smile. ‘Of course you didn’t, but don’t beat yourself up just yet. It’s not your fault. You had no idea what you were looking for or where to look.’ His gaze moved to Hunter. ‘Robert noticed it because he knew he had to look at my eyes, especially my left one. I’ll do it again, a little slower this time. Don’t blink or you’ll miss it, Agent Taylor.’
He repeated his eye movement, this time with so much control it was almost frightening.
‘You told me about it in college once, Robert, after a party, remember? We were both a little drunk and you thought I’d taken no notice of it, didn’t you?’
Hunter cast his mind back, and a hazy memory surfaced.
‘But it stayed with me,’ Lucien continued. ‘You said that it was something very subtle, not everyone would notice, but I know that you could always pick it up. You always had a great eye for that kind of stuff, Robert. I know I didn’t do it often. At least not if I was telling just a simple white lie, but if it were anything more serious. . BANG, my eye movement always gave me away.’ Lucien used his thumb and forefinger to rub his eyes a couple of times. ‘So I practiced, and practiced, and practiced in front of a mirror until it was all gone. No more telltale signs. No more being betrayed by psychological motor reactions. It took me a while, a long while actually, but I learned to control them. In fact, I got so good at it that I can flash-create new ones any time I like, just to throw people off course. That is a terrifying thought, isn’t it?’
Hunter and Taylor stayed quiet.
‘I knew that you’d be looking for the eye movement giveaway, Robert. I could sense your concentration in order to read me.’ A new smile. ‘I was fucking great, wasn’t I? A performance worthy of an Oscar.’ Without losing a beat, Lucien changed the subject and moved on. ‘I’d offer you a drink,’ he said. ‘But all I’ve got is tap water, and I only have one cup.’ Again, he studied his two interviewers for an awkward moment. ‘Coffee would be nice, but I don’t have any.’ His stare lingered on Taylor.
She got the hint, looked up at the CCTV camera on the ceiling high above the cell, and gave it a single nod.
‘Black with two sugars, if you please,’ Lucien said, looking up at the same camera before addressing Hunter and Taylor again. ‘OK, let me tell you how this is going to work. I’ll allow you to ask me a few questions. I’ll answer them truthfully, and I mean that. I won’t lie. Then it’s my turn to ask you a question. If I sense that you haven’t answered me honestly, the interview is over for twenty-four hours, and we can start again the next day. I tell you the truth, you tell me the truth. Does that sound fair to you?’
Taylor frowned. ‘You want to ask us questions? About what?’
Her reaction amused Lucien.
‘Information is power, Agent Taylor. I like feeling powerful, don’t you?’
They all heard the door at the end of the corridor buzz open again. A Marine carrying a steaming cup of coffee made his way toward them. Taylor took the cup, placed it in the Plexiglas slide tray, and slid it into the cell toward Lucien.