Reluctantly, she faced forward with a frigid stare.
“That’s better. Now tell me why the Chen Di Yu is on my base?”
Janice only offered silence. He’d need to do a lot more than scald her before she cooperated.
Owens’ demeanor remained calm and friendly — slick. He knew what he was doing; every word and action orchestrated with the intention of intimidating, influencing and testing his victim. He stood, pacing the floor in front of her. “You’re not the first pretty woman we’ve caught out here. There were a couple of Russian agents in our midst a few years back, just before the end of the Cold War; one was a woman. Something tells me she’s deceased now. I guess sending the KGB a copy of the transcript from her confession, which included details about the Russian government’s interest here, was upsetting to someone. But don’t worry; I’m going to try something new with you. So hopefully the punishment for your failures will be less severe.
“Do you want to know what the Russian agent told us?” Owens’ question was rhetorical and not intended to garner a response. He continued, “In 1977, in the town of Petrozavodsk, more than one hundred and seventy witnesses reported seeing a UFO hovering in the sky for several hours. This led the Russian government to start investigating UFO sightings.” Owens interrupted himself with a smile and wink. “I wonder if they ever considered that maybe the object was American and we were playing games? In any case, they took the results of their investigations and started a back-engineering project to develop new propulsion systems and aircraft. Very ingenious, but not an original idea. We had programs like that … in the fifties. Too bad UFOs were taboo in the old Soviet Union. That narrow-minded approach to the situation forced them to focus on the space race with NASA, all the while overlooking our other celestial experiments.”
Janice was confused by the way he offered and insinuated information instead of trying to extract it from her. This wasn’t a good sign; the more he told her, the less chance she had of being freed. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I want to see what surprises you and what doesn’t. Anyone who has heard stories about an underground base in Papoose Valley has also heard about this facility’s supposed connection with recovered flying saucers and alien bodies. Maybe we’ve got the bodies floating in formaldehyde somewhere nearby. And if we have alien bodies, surely we have their spaceship.” He widened his double-pupil, reptilian eyes and cocked his head to the side. “You want to take a gander at that? After all, you came here for technology.”
“If you showed me technology, you could never let me go,” Janice said.
“Depends on how much you remember when we’re through.”
The statement concerned and silenced her.
“We know that after the Iron Curtain fell, self-serving KGB agents sold their information about this facility to China. And you are proof that it was acted upon. Do you think we have UFOs out here, Janice?”
“I thought you were going to tell me,” she mumbled.
“I wish it were that easy, but we like the fact that people don’t know the truth. On any given night, lunatics are sneaking around the outskirts of this base looking for little gray men in the sky. Ufologists are what they call themselves. Most are fools looking for attention, so they conjure up stories, give themselves a title, and act important amongst their peers. Sometimes their UFO stories serve as a buffer for our operations.” Pausing for a sip of coffee, Owens asked, “Care for more?”
His antics were upsetting enough to make her upper lip quiver slightly.
“Can you fathom the implications of the information you seek?” Owens asked. Quickly throwing in the disclaimer, “Assuming for a minute the knowledge you’re after exists.”
Janice only listened, and that was getting harder to do as her skin felt like it was blistering from the hot coffee. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but it was crusted and stuffed, forcing her to breath mostly through her mouth.
“You obviously don’t understand the global social-economic issues at stake,” Owens continued. “If the information you sought is here … and it got out … we might have to modify the Bible — at least Genesis.”
“Your mother obviously didn’t raise you to be a man of God,” Janice said, hoping to insult him.
“My mother didn’t raise me,” he answered proudly. “So tell me, as long as we’ve segued to antiquity, has China started researching the origin of the Sumerians in their UFO studies?”
She again refused to answer or acknowledge him.
“Well, it’ll intrigue your superiors eventually. Now, back to our situation here; we’ve already managed to piece together some information on you during the past few days. Using your name and credit card from the rental car you were driving, we’ve found hotel stays as well as some corresponding phone records that linked you to a man in Los Angeles — Desmond Wyatt. He happens to be one of the ufologists I mentioned. I suspect he gave you tips about the external security at the base, but given your ability to penetrate so deep across the perimeter, I have to wonder if there is something more to Desmond Wyatt, or if there’s someone else involved. Did Desmond know anything about your background? It’s one thing when these people subvert national security in an attempt to satisfy their own twisted curiosity about little gray men, but to help a foreign nation … that’s deeply disturbing.”
Janice continued her selective silence. Owens’ actions and tone were so deliberate, and absent of uncontrolled emotions, that she sensed this was a game to him, an enjoyable duty.
“I take it you don’t want to answer that one? Tell me what you hoped to accomplish by talking to Ben Skyles. Did someone lead you to him, or was it merely fate that of all the workers at the airport, Skyles stopped to help you? He was a real treasure chest of information. That’s why we monitor his type. And that’s why we caught you.”
Janice stared forward, concentrating on the gray cement wall in front of her, wondering if they regularly used the room for interrogations since there seemed to be no other apparent use.
Realizing he wasn’t going to make sufficient progress through this style of questioning, Owens stood behind her and spun and scraped the metal chair on the concrete floor so Janice was facing the opposite direction.
Janice stared at a metal table stacked with a bank of electrical equipment, all exotic to her. She considered that this was indeed some type of interrogation room, but capturing spies was not the norm for this facility; she wondered who else they interrogated here.
Then Owens walked behind her and fidgeted with something in his hand. She turned her head and saw a needle, just as he eased it into her neck. He then started connecting her to the equipment, pasting electrodes to her scalp and slipping several under her smock and around her heart.
“I’m sure you’ve seen or taken a lie detector test before,” Owens said, affixing the final piece of equipment — a metallic device, resembling a bicycle helmet — to her head. “And you’re probably familiar with hypnotic exercises and psychological drugs like truth serums. I’m sure the Russians sold you their research reports on psychological intelligence — everything was for sale after the government collapsed. This equipment connected to you, it’s the fruit of America’s efforts in that field.” He paused to study Janice for the last time in her present state, staring past her beaten and expressionless face into her weary bloodshot eyes. “The mental notes you’re making about this location, my words, this equipment … they’re all a waste of time.”