John O'Brien - Conspiracy

Even through her tired eyes I recognize that look. I really do think she needs to eat and rest, but what she said makes sense. Given what she had to put up with — some of which I can’t even imagine — she has a right to take part in the lair’s destruction. I know there’s not much that could keep me from wanting that were I in her position.

“Okay. Robert, brief her and fill her in on the position. We don’t have a tremendous amount of daylight left, and I want to be back soon,” I respond. Turning to Frank, I add, “Can you arrange the services for McCafferty? I’m thinking early evening before the sun starts heading down. We’ll be back before then.”

“Sure thing, Jack,” Frank replies.

With nothing much else to say, Robert, Bri, and Lynn depart to gather the crew, Bannerman and Frank to finish the arrangements for our guest, leaving me standing by the open door of the Kiowa. I notice said guest kneeling with the guards standing over him. Anger crowds inside, sharing space with the sorrow over Allie. I hate losing people but, someone like McCafferty should be enjoying her life and giving the world the gift of her smile. And the fact that she took a bullet meant for me…I feel my blood pressure increase. Slamming the door closed, I march over to the prisoner.

He looks up as I arrive. He still has the same deadpan expression, although I see a tiredness in his eyes. This speaks of several nights of lost sleep which will make his upcoming sleep deprivation all that much more effective. We lock eyes as I kneel in front, bringing us to the same level.

“Did I mention that you missed?” I ask, staring hard into his eyes.

He gives no reply, but I know I hit a spot with him by the hardening of his stare and a slight tightening of his lips. That’s good to know. He may be hard, but hard does break. He’s obviously not used to failure. We may be able to use this, but it’s equally obvious that he’s a professional.

“But, I guess that’s kind of obvious eh? I mean with me standing here and you, well, tied up. That must be so disappointing for you. I mean, coming all that way only to miss like that. Damn, I can only imagine how much that must suck. And then to get captured…wow. I bet you were contemplating how to come back and do the job and then, well, here you are.” I continue to stare into his eyes.

I notice, just for the briefest of moments, that the hardness in his eyes changes. When I mentioned coming all that way, they took on a questioning look, wondering how much I know already. If I wasn’t looking for it, I might have missed it, but watching as closely as I was, it was as apparent as if he cocked his head to the side. It was there for only a flash and then back to staring at me like we were two fighters in a ring receiving our fighting instructions. I can also see that the continued reminder of his failure is causing his lips to compress even more.

Some interrogations aren’t looking for actual answers, but rather, reactions to questions. The initial questions are to analyze tactics that might work and, depending on the reactions, the way in to which to ask the questions and how to orient the interrogation. He is steeling himself against questions, not statements. He may be guarded, but not as much as he likes to think. We’ll have discussions rather than question/answer times.

The other secret is to not let the other know that you’ve learned something. You can use that knowledge later and let them guess how you know. If you let on right away, they’ll notice and shut down. And, in that way, you can catch them off guard with the knowledge at a later time.

“Look, you’re obviously a professional, so you know how this is played out. And knowing the game, you know how this ends…every time. There’s no escaping the inevitable. Save yourself the time and some obvious discomfort by just telling us what we’ll figure out anyway. Who sent you?” I say. He remains silent.

This is the type of questioning he is looking for and what he can protect himself against. I really didn’t expect him to say anything. The question was asked because he expected it. It was also a way for me to cover up the parts of his personality I discovered. If I had left it with just the statements, he would think something was amiss and shut down even more.

“Okay,” I say, rising, “have it your way. We know where your team is located. You can save them. It’s on your head whether they live or die.”

The silent stare remains, but the questioning look in his eyes is there again. The question of whether a team is out there or not is answered. The expression was a fearful one and not a look of smugness, so I know the team is small and vulnerable. Now we just have to find them.

“No? Okay, I hope none of them are your friends. I’m actually looking forward to the little chats we’re going to have. You may not like them much, but I’m going to enjoy them immensely.”

“Bugger off, mate,” he responds.

He may not know it, but he screwed up by uttering that. Some are broken by torture and pain, others by, believe it or not, kindness. Everyone has their button, and it’s just a matter of finding out what they are; his weaknesses are anger and pride. Make him angry, twist his words around, confuse him and he rises to a direct confrontation, but take hits at that which he takes pride in and he’ll react. It’s always a matter of bringing an emotional response; fear, anger, even feeling safe. Eventually almost everyone breaks. It’s a rare person that doesn’t. Everyone thinks they can hold out, but in truth, few can.

Lynn emerges from the main building with Robert, Bri, Craig, and the other crew members in tow. Some of my anger, which is the sorrow at losing McCafferty turned inward, is alleviated by the sight of Lynn strolling across the pavement. I feel my heart blossom at seeing her back with us…back with me. The anxiety of her being taken was killing me.

“See ya soon…mate,” I say with a wink to the prisoner and head to meet the others.

I feel the clunk of the wheels as they retract into the wheel wells. The green lights indicating gear positions wink off; first the nose gear and then the mains. With the engines at full power and the Spooky cleaned up, we claw for altitude beneath on overcast layer of clouds. A quiet, professional calm permeates the interior, but with an underlying element of tension with the loss of McCafferty. This is more than just a mission to take out the night runners who took Lynn; it’s coupled with a mission to find the others responsible for the loss of Allie. It won’t bring her back, but we’ll exact a measure of satisfaction by taking down those responsible. We just have to find them first.

“Robert, do we need to head to the range for a quick rehearsal?” I ask over the intercom.

The question is meant to ask if Lynn is up to speed with her console duties or whether we need to make a few practice runs.

“No, we’re good to go back here,” he answers.

“Okay. Turning south now. We’ll be on target in about ten minutes.”

“Copy that. We’ll be ready by then.”

Mount Rainier swings into view as I bank the aircraft around, the snow-covered mountain’s flanks angle upward until they disappear into the clouds. The ground vanishes under our nose, but is largely unnoticed, as we run through our checks, setting up for our run on the target. The quick thought of having the aircraft looked over by the mechanic we brought back with us cycles through my mind as we aim for the hospital. The city of Olympia, housing thousands upon thousands of night runners, unfolds below us.

Somewhere below is also the team that accompanied the captured sniper. We’ll have to act quickly to locate them. Once the shooter doesn’t return, they’ll know something is amiss and either bug out or take another crack. They have the advantage as they know where we are and we don’t know their location. That will have to change.