Mary McDonald - No good deed

The statement caught Jim by surprise. Taylor sounded matter of fact.

“So, after you…saved her, you took her picture as a memento?” It was hard to maintain the insinuation in his voice.

“No. I puked. Then I was…arrested.” His head lolled back for a moment, as if he didn’t have the energy to hold it up. After a pause, he straightened, but it seemed to require incredible effort. “The photos change. If I succeed.”

“Okay. I think I get it. You go on your little missions and keep the happy pictures as mementos. So, why did you keep the pictures of the attacks?”

He focused on Jim, his eyes dull and filled with defeat. “As a reminder that I can’t fix everything.” Taylor swallowed, his throat bobbing as his gaze slid away.

Jim watched as the guards led Taylor away. The man shuffled out in the same manner he’d arrived, his shoulders hunched and head bowed.

Bill remained at the table with him while the rest of the team left. “ That was a bust.”

“Yes, I guess so…or if we look at it another way, it could be seen as the subject simply has no information.” Jim gathered up the photos and returned them to the files.

“It could be seen that way.” Bill folded his hands on the table and turned his head, his expression serious. “Is that how you’re seeing the situation?”

Jim lifted the folders and tapped them against the tabletop to align the contents. “I think I do.” The moment he said it aloud, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

“So, at the next meeting with the council, you’ll state that you think Taylor is innocent?”

“I’ll state the truth, that after close to a year of intense questioning, no team has gathered any actionable intelligence. In light of that, and my opinion that Taylor is no threat to this country, that I recommend his release as soon as it can be arranged.”

Bill sighed. “I can’t argue with that. I guess I’ll go along with you.” He ran a hand over his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “You realize that the next meeting isn’t scheduled until after the holidays, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ll send some memos urging an emergency meeting.” It felt wrong that Taylor would remain in custody due to something as simple as the schedule of a meeting. “I’m not sure it’ll make a difference though. They might not even take our recommendations.” He stood and pushed in his chair.

“Then why did they have us do the questioning? It wouldn’t look good to ignore us. You think the other agencies will go along with it? What about law enforcement?” Bill rose and walked alongside Jim as they exited the room.

“I believe they will. If they have info that they’re withholding, they’ll have to show it, or give a damn good reason to keep Taylor in custody.” Jim strode down the hall, hoping like hell he wouldn’t ever have to return to that room.

They reached Bill’s office first, and Jim leaned against the door frame after Bill entered. “We have to make this happen ASAP, Bill.” Jim tapped the files against his thigh. “I don’t know how long Taylor will hang on. He’s spiraling down.”

Bill plopped onto his chair. “Yeah, I noticed.” He leaned back. “In the meantime, we can try and lighten things up a little.”

“Will the protocol allow that? We’re supposed to follow the same guidelines as the other place.”

“Screw the protocol.” Bill grimaced.

Jim smiled. “See what you can do in that regard. I’ll get on the horn and start making calls, see if I can expedite the matter.”

In the weeks since he and Bill had made their suggestion for an emergency meeting, nothing had happened. Someone always had a reason they couldn’t attend. The fact that a man languished behind bars didn’t seem to add any urgency in the other council members’ minds.

Bill’s attempts to lighten things had only gone as far as halting further interrogations. The security at the prison had enforced their own measures after Taylor’s outburst of throwing food around his cell. Now, he was confined to his cell at all times, except for showers.

Jim opened Taylor’s file to add another email to the list he’d begun after the decision to make their recommendation to free Taylor. He hadn’t realized what a tricky and protracted task it would be to convince the people with authority that Taylor was not a security threat to the United States. If nothing else, Taylor should get an official hearing. The fact that one hadn’t taken place yet rankled Jim. It wasn’t the American way.

Two hours later, he printed out his advisement that in light of no new information, and the questionable sources for the Afghanistan claim, it was his opinion there was no merit for keeping Taylor in detention. Bill had completed his own recommendations that he held doubt about the man’s guilt.

He stretched, grimacing at a twinge of stiffness in his back. He’d been sitting so long, his back creaked when he stood and crossed to the window. Would the powers that be follow their recommendations? If they did, how long would it take? The wheels of government spun at a snail’s pace, but maybe since there had never been formal charges, it wouldn’t take much longer to straighten the mess out and free Taylor.

Mark stopped mid push-up when the slot on his door opened. It was too soon for the next meal. The command to present his hands and feet for shackles came over the speaker.

Since his outburst a few months ago, his outdoor excursions had been curtailed. Since he had showered yesterday, that could mean only one thing. Interrogation.

He pushed back to a kneeling position, unable to force himself to stand right away. Since the last interrogation, his thoughts had touched on finding a way to end it all. In his whole life, he had never felt that way, but there was no end in sight here. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to live like this.

So far, whenever the despair hit and his mind flashed to suicide, he had been able to shove the thought out of his head. If he underwent another brutal questioning, he wasn’t sure he would be strong enough to quell those demons.

The command came over the speaker a second time and Mark stood, swiping his head on his shoulder as sweat dripped. His feet felt encased in cement as he approached the door.

He tried not to react when in addition to the usual shackles, they used the blackout goggles and the earphones. Did that mean he was going somewhere besides the interrogation room? Swallowing hard, he couldn’t help balking at the application of the goggles.

Interrogation was bad, but at least he knew what to expect. What if they had something worse in store? Mark couldn’t imagine anything worse, but he was sure that they could.

Lost in a vacuum of sensory deprivation, Mark stumbled along, sitting when pushed down, standing when pulled up and walking when tugged forward. He felt vibrations under his feet for awhile and knew he was in a vehicle, but time blurred and he had no way to judge the distance he’d been driven.

After leaving the car, he was walked another distance before they stopped him and hands worked at the goggles and earphones, removing them. Mark blinked in the bright lights and squinted at his surroundings. A locker room? What the hell was he doing here? The guards removed his shackles and instructed him to strip. Mark hesitated as fear boiled within him. An image of the Nazi death camps and the gas chambers shot through his mind and he shook it off. That was crazy. He removed his clothes, hoping that his shaking wasn’t apparent. One guard pointed behind Mark. “Okay, let’s go. There’s a shower back there. Supposed to be everything you need to get cleaned up.”