Dale Dair: Fight for Family (The Journey of the Freighter Lola Book 3) by Robert Weisskopf

Author:Robert Weisskopf [Weisskopf, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-10-12T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

It was time. I’d been watching the two prisoners from the CIC. Both had removed their hoods and were sitting in the dark. Sensors showed both had elevated heart and respiration rates. Combine this with the hot dry air in the cells and they would soon become dehydrated.

I let them sit long enough, so I headed to Latrell’s cell. I carried two bottles of water and I would start the interrogation like I had in the past. A nod to the guards and they turned on the cell lights. Stepping inside, I took a seat across the room from the prisoner. The sudden light blinded Latrell. As I'd hoped, he appeared disoriented and afraid.

“Tell me your name.”

“Who are you? Why am I here?”

“Tell me your name.” A little sterner this time.

“Who are you?” His voice quivered with the fear he was trying to hide.

“One last time, tell me your name.”

“Shawn.”

“Shawn what?”

“Latrell, Shawn Latrell.”

“Tell me about the Organization.”

“Who? What? What organization?” He wasn’t convincing.

“Here are the rules you'll live by for the rest of your life. You get to determine how long that will be. One, you answer all questions. Two, you don’t ask the questions. Understand?”

“Wait, you can't treat me like this.”

I stood up and moved toward the door. “Remember, you determine how long you live.” I stepped out of the room and shut the door. The guard turned the lights off, leaving Latrell to contemplate his new life in darkness.

Bill Trick, the guard, asked, “How did it go?”

“Better than I'd expected.”

I stepped across to the other cell. When I nodded the guard turned the lights on in Vanna’s cell. I stepped inside.

Leslie Vanna was on the floor in the corner. His right hand shackled to the ring on the wall. He wore a pair of satin paisley pajamas. I haven’t seen a pair like that except in old movies. I sat on the chair across the room from him as he tried to adjust his eyes to the brightness.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“What is your name?”

“Leslie.”

“Full name.”

“Leslie Vanna.” He sounded unsure and scared.

This was going to take less time than I'd anticipated. I gave him the line about determining how long he lived and asked him about the Organization. He denied any knowledge, as I'd expected. I left him in darkness to consider his misfortune.

Chris was waiting for me in the CIC. “How do you think it went?”

“It went well. I'll have them both telling me everything they know later today. Right now they need to sit in the darkened cells for an hour or so.”

It was after our normal dinner hour and I hadn’t eaten since this morning. “Chris, did you eat dinner?”

“I did, but I’ll keep you company.”

“Great, to the Family Table.”

I pulled an NY Strip steak from the fridge. While my cast iron pan was heating on the stove top I put together a spinach salad with tomato and a hard-boiled egg crumbled on top. I dressed it with a balsamic vinaigrette. Once the pan was hot I put two tablespoons of butter in the pan to melt.

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