Page 84 of Trapped With the Secret Agent

“Really?” she asked. “I’m still wearing my dirty, blood stained clothes and I probably smell horrible. How, inanyway, does my appearance sayluggageto you?”

That bland smile tightened into something brittle and bright. Too bright.

He must be new.

“My mistake. Please, right this way.” Gesturing again toward the vehicle, he began walking and she followed him.

She didn’t want to waste her time talking to a junior agent, so she spent the drive dozing. They arrived at a cement gray building with a couple of understated signs on it advertising a lawyer’s office and a laundromat.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

Right, new guy. She rubbed her face. “Never mind, I’m over tired.”

He didn’t reply.

They parked next to a door at the rear of the building and he rushed around the vehicle to use a magnetic door key and open it for her.

The interior was the same gray as the outside, including the carpet. Boring and institutional. What were they trying to do, put everyone in a prison frame of mind?

Smith lead her down the hall and into an office sized room occupied by a table and three chairs. A man was already sitting on one chair facing the door. There was another chair next to him and one across the table. The wall behind him was taken up almost completely by a mirror.

So, this was an interrogation.

He stood and gestured at the chair across the table.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Masters,” he said, his voice pleasant and polite. “I’m Special Agent Barnes, please have a seat.”

She sat. Barnes took his seat and Smith sat in the one next to him.

“Can we get you anything?” Barnes asked absently, already looking down at the tablet in front of him.

“Yes,” she said deciding a firm tone would be wise. “I’d like a cup of coffee, one sugar, two cream, and a muffin, something fruity if you have it.”

Both men looked up and stared at her blankly for a couple of seconds.

She put her own version of a bland smile on her face and said, “It was a long flight and I haven’t had much to eat in the last couple of days.”

Agent Barnes tilted his head to one side for a moment, then said, “My apologies, a coffee and something to eat will be provided, of course.”

Agent Smith left the room, hopefully to get the food.

“Where’s the camera?” She made a production of looking around. “And the torture devices?”

“The American government doesn’t condone torture,” Agent Barnes said with a snort. “And we certainly don’t give snacks and drinks first.”

“The camera is back there then?” she thrust her chin toward the mirror.

He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the harsh overhead light. “This is a simple, friendly conversation. We’re eager to obtain a full accounting of the events that occurred in Koutu. If it seems like we’re rushing, well—” He spread his hands wide. “If we wait a day or two, you might forget important details.”

“That’s all you want? A chronological recounting of events?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“After that, you’ll have that new guy drive me to my Aunt and Uncle’s house?”

He snorted again. “Yes.”

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