The interrogator remained motionless as Hank’s voice echoed in the small stone and concrete room. He was intimidated by Hank, his overbearing boss, but arrogant enough to show no reaction to Hank bawling him out.
Hank left the room.When the door closed the technician looked over at the interrogator like a sixth-former after a scolding from a teacher. ‘He’ll be OK. His signs are rising.’
‘Get him to the hospital,’ the interrogator said.‘Then, soon as he’s ready, get him back in here.’
The interrogator’s voice crackled from a speaker as Mandrick sat listening in his chair behind his desk. He stared thoughtfully up at his vaulted stone ceiling with its damp rusty scars leading from the ends of massive central bolts down to the tops of the walls where they disappeared behind ornate façades erected to hide the unsightly concrete. The CIA were unaware that a listening device had been secreted in their interrogation room. Hank would have been very upset to discover that the tiny transmitter was linked to a receiver in the warden’s office. Mandrick was surprised how easy the bug had been to fit: he’d ordered it online from a commercial spyware supplier in Los Angeles and had then taken an installation lesson from a private detective agency in Houston. It had been just as easy to keep it from being discovered since, as warden, he was informed whenever the Agency’s electronic eavesdropping detection unit was due to arrive.
Mandrick’s reason for planting the device was to help him collect personal insurance against any CIA backlash when the time came for him to pull out of Styx. His eventual departure was always going to be interesting, he realised. He knew far too much about the irregularities of their operation and being a civilian made controlling him complicated. On the other hand, it was the CIA who had originally installed him in the position and that meant they’d also have an exit strategy for him.
There was no doubt in Mandrick’s mind that the Agency had a plan in place for whenever he might leave. His fear, reality-based or otherwise, was that any such scheme would not be agreeable to him. He wanted to leave on his own terms, which could prove dangerous. He knew as well as the Agency did that if he happened to vanish one day it would go largely unnoticed. For those few who might wonder about where Mandrick might have gone his disappearance could be simply explained. Rumours of the corruption that went on in Styx could be leaked, specifically stories of tax evasion. Since Mandrick was at the helm of Felix Corp’s undersea interests, any mysterious vanishing by him would not be a huge surprise to anyone.
But his most valuable insurance so far against such an event being engineered by the CIA was the evidence he had accumulated showing the Agency’s use of decompression as a torture. It was a serious violation of the Geneva Convention, for one thing. Still, the Agency could probably get away with the explanation that it was some localised misconduct by Hank Palmerston done without Langley’s knowledge. They would suffer but not long-term. There was a war on and it was not the time to start ripping into the nation’s most important anti-terrorist information gatherers. Therefore it was not the quality of insurance Mandrick was looking for. He needed something big enough to barter for a long-lived amnesty, something he could either offer as exchange for his safe departure when the time came, or use as a deterrent that he could threaten to release if anything suspicious should befall him. It was a dangerous game - but then, that was the business he was in.
Mandrick unclipped his minicomputer from his belt and plugged it into the mainframe lead. He inserted a new storage card into the minicomputer’s socket and downloaded the recent interrogation conversation onto it. After unplugging the minicomputer and clipping it back onto his belt he saved the original conversation to a file.
A gentle beep sounded and he looked at the control panel to see a small red light blinking. It was the secure landline and, knowing who it was, he picked up the receiver. ‘My office is empty,’ Mandrick said.
‘So’s mine,’ a voice replied. It was Forbes. ‘I don’t think our problem has gone away.’ Forbes sounded edgy. ‘Frankly, I’m concerned . . . Can you hear me OK?’
Mandrick was tired of what he considered to be Forbes’s ever-increasing spinelessness. ‘I’m here.’
‘We may have taken this train as far as it’s going to go. I’m getting hints of building pressure within the House. Several Representatives have sent me enquiries. Felix executives have reported probes into their assets, which has to be the work of the FBI. It doesn’t look good.This thing could explode any time.You may have to start making preparations.’
Mandrick sighed to himself. Wasn’t the FBI undercover agent clue enough? ‘I understand,’ he said, allowing Forbes to maintain the illusion that he was in control of everything.
Mandrick found it bizarre how the man did not understand that when jumping from a sinking ship it was a case of every man for himself. Forbes always sounded as if the dissolution of Styx was going to be an orderly evacuation with some kind of convivial reunion afterwards where all the players met for drinks and canapés. He wanted to suggest to the congressman that he should not only be concentrating on his own escape but also how he was going to stay escaped. But if the man was unable to see the obvious dangers then no amount of advice Mandrick might offer would be of help. Not that Mandrick gave a damn about his boss anyway.
‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ Forbes asked after Mandrick’s long spell of silence. ‘You don’t sound concerned.’
‘We knew it was going to end one day.’
‘But not like this. Not now. Of course we considered it. I have my contingency plans. But we never really believed it would happen so soon - at least, I didn’t. I don’t think you did either, did you?’
‘It’s always wise to be prepared.’
‘Then you’re saying you’re ready to go ahead?’
‘Not entirely. I will be when the time comes.’
‘I’m asking you if you’re prepared to carry out the doomsday phase, God damn it - as we discussed?’
‘Of course.’ Mandrick wanted to add that it was a most essential phase of his own plan of escape but he refrained. It was evident the senator could not be trusted and was more than capable of offering Mandrick up to save himself. Come to think of it, that would make good sense on his part.
Mandrick suddenly felt uneasy as the notion took root. It was immediately followed by a tinge of panic as he feared he was falling behind and that Forbes was actually setting him up. He suddenly wondered if he should be making his move sooner than he’d thought.
‘Minimum risk to crew and inmates. I think that’s essential. It’s the ramifications of our actions that will be our undoing.’
‘Of course,’ Mandrick said. Inwardly he was in complete disagreement, wondering if Forbes was just being smart.
‘You must see that if we cover our tracks as best we can then there will be less interest in pursuing us.’
‘I understand,’ Mandrick said, deciding that if Forbes was not subtly trying to entrap him then the man was sounding like an idiot.
‘As long as you do . . . Fine, then. I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything else. Do nothing without my say-so. Is that understood?’
‘Of course.’ That was it, Mandrick decided. As far as his suspicions were concerned that last instruction gave Forbes’s game plan away. Forbes was trying to control the final stage of the abandonment of Styx, the doomsday phase, which included both their escapes. Mandrick reasoned that if he was wrong and had misjudged Forbes it did not matter. He could not afford to take the risk and had to stay a step ahead of his boss.