Jim suppressed a sigh. If she wanted to focus on the unlikely, no, make that the impossible, then he’d go along with it for now. At least it got her off the subject of methods of interrogation. He pulled out the photo, steeling himself. He wouldn’t cringe-not in front of her. He was used to seeing this kind of thing, but usually he was prepared and was able to detach from what happened to the subject. With Jessie sitting there, it was impossible to remain distant. For her, Taylor wasn’t a subject. He was a man, and not just any man, but someone she had feelings for. The fear and panic on Taylor’s face was palpable. “You think he’s going to dream this?” He held the picture up.
Shuddering, she looked away. “Maybe.” Jessie sighed. “I’m just not sure. I didn’t listen to him when he tried telling me.”
Jim sat back and stared out the windshield. Traffic whizzed by and horns blasted in the late afternoon rush hour. He rubbed his eyes. This whole thing was crazy. Magic wasn’t real. Everyone knew that. Magicians used sleight of hand and tricks. Religion wasn’t one of his things either and he had no idea what people would say about this. Most likely, no one would believe him if he tried to argue that Taylor did have a way to see the future. A rock formed in the pit of his stomach. No one would believe him, just like no one had believed Taylor. “I’ll see if I can change my flight home to an earlier one.”
“Does this mean you believe that he had nothing to do with 9/11? That Mark will be set free?” Jessie’s eyes opened wide, hope shining out of them.
He averted his gaze. There was too much hope in them. “I don’t know what I believe, but it’s beyond my control anyway. If I come to the conclusion that there’s not enough evidence to continue holding him, I can make that recommendation. I could try to convince the rest of the team. But that is the limit of my authority. I have to go through channels.” Jim took a deep breath. “ You should know how this kind of thing works. It’s not so different. People higher than me have the final determination.” There. He hadn’t promised anything.
The light in Jessie’s eyes fizzled. “I see.”
Mark tried to control his fear as he stood in the interrogation room, but his heart knocked against his ribs and sweat ran down his back. He locked his knees to keep the chains attached to the bolt in the floor from rattling. Jim wasn’t here, so maybe his dream had been wrong. Maybe it was a just flashback nightmare to when they had done the water thing to him before. He closed his eyes and as he recalled the details, bile burned his throat. Jim had been absent in his dream too.
Bill approached and Mark saw the same shaving nick on his chin that had been there in the dream. “I’m sorry Jim couldn’t be here with us today, but he had some business to attend to. I hope you don’t mind if I ask all the questions this time.” He smiled and paced in front of Mark, his expression amused.
“No, sir.” He hated all this small talk shit. His fear mixed with anger. What would they do if he said he did mind? Take him back to his cell? It was a sick game they played with him. “Just get it over with.”
Bill did a double take, his mouth dropping open. “Excuse me?”
Mark straightened as much as he could and looked him in the eye. “I know what you’re going to do. I dreamed it. So, let’s just get it over with.”
Eyes narrowed, Bill stepped right up to Mark and jabbed him in the chest with his finger. “Oh, you do, do you? Tell me about it.”
Mark opened his mouth to recount his dream, but snapped it shut. If he told them, he might change things. Sure, maybe he wouldn’t have the water poured in his face, but then what? This was his chance to prove what he said was true. “I can’t. Not yet. I…I could write it down for you, and put it in an envelope. You could seal it, and when we’re…done, you could read it.” He swallowed and tried to control his trembling. If he survived, he would have his proof.
Bill looked at the other men on the team. One guy shrugged, tore a sheet of paper off his pad, and slid it across the table with a pen. Bill grabbed them. “Fine. Let’s do that.” Pointing towards the eye bolt on the floor, he barked an order to the guards, “ Release that, but stand by.”
Relief at the chance and dread at what was to come, warred within him as he was shoved onto a chair. Closing his eyes again, he pictured everything. When it was clear, he wrote it as a quickly as he could, trying not to leave anything out. He told of the plastic wrap, and how the water had been ice cold. He recounted all the questions asked of him, and even a snide comment made by one of the guards when he’d called Mark a drowned cat. Bill would say how Jim would be sorry he’d missed all the fun. His hand shook as he wrote that part.
Mark wrote of how the water had run out by the time the guard had counted to forty-four and Bill had sent someone for more. He came back with a full pitcher, and Mark recalled the next nineteen seconds. How Jim had burst through the door. He didn’t remember any more of the dream, but hoped that would be sufficient. When he’d finished writing, he had filled the front and back of the yellow paper. An envelope was pushed across the table and Mark folded the sheet and tucked it in. His mouth was so dry, he had trouble forming enough saliva to wet the flap, but managed to seal it.
Bill made a show of taking a piece of duct tape and sticking the envelope to the wall where Mark would be able to see it as he underwent the interrogation.
The guards pulled him to his feet, and dragged him to the spot, stretching him out and strapping him to the board. The scene played out just as he saw it in his dream. Mark heard the rustle of the plastic, but before he could react, a guard ran the clear wrap over his eyes, tightened it around his head, brought it down over his mouth and continued winding until only his nose was uncovered. He gasped for air and the plastic tightened across his open mouth, forcing his lips against his teeth. Already feeling like he was suffocating, Mark tried to turn his head. The cuffs ground into the bones of his wrists and ankles. He struggled, unable to stop himself.
Mark gagged and gasped as the torment progressed. The counting by the guard filtered through his panic, the only thing he had to hold on to. When the count reached nineteen in the second round, the torment would end. One way or another.
His hearing faded and darkness crept into the edges of his vision. Jim leaned over him, his mouth moving, but Mark’s world faded.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mark’s eyes rolled back. Jim tore at the plastic, his fingers slipping against the wet film. “Goddamn it. Someone help me before he dies.” He hoped he wasn’t too late. Damn traffic.
The guards stooped, one working on the wrap, while the other released the shackles. When they rolled Taylor onto his side, water poured from his nose. Jim pounded on the unconscious man’s back and was rewarded with a weak cough, then a stronger one as more water drained.
Relief swept through Jim as he knelt on one knee. Taylor gagged and choked, then his eyes fluttered open. Thank God. Jim stood, fury rising in him, replacing the relief. Turning towards Bill, he ground out, “What the hell were you doing?”
Bill glared back. “I was interrogating the subject. What does it look like?”
Ignoring him for the moment, Jim addressed the guards and pointed to Taylor still lying dazed and gasping on the floor. “Take him to the infirmary and have him checked out.”
Jim faced the interested expressions of the others in the room and strode to the table. How the hell could these guys just sit here and watch? None had bothered to help make sure Taylor didn’t die. It took every shred of his self-control to speak in a calm voice, “If you would all excuse us. I need to confer with Bill. I’ll let each of you know what is going on as soon as possible.”