tell me the name right
fucking now .” Ebin applied some pressure to the pliers, enough to get
Bailey’s attention.
“ The Company! It’s The Company! I’m not a fed ...
I’m a goddamned ...”
“The C.I.A.?” Ebin asked.
Bailey shook his head and sobbed.
The Company? Daniel was lost. “What’s The Company?”
Nobody answered.
“Ask him for a name,” Jared said quietly.
Ebin turned to Bailey, who was utterly broken. He constantly
sobbed when he wasn’t spilling his guts. He had another hour to live, tops, and
he knew it. What an hour it would be.
“Tell me.” Ebin flexed his grip on the pliers.
“You know I ... I c-can’t.”
Ebin grinned a little and squeezed the pliers. The crunch
echoed in the tiny room and blood flowed out of Bailey’s nose like a faucet. He
screamed until his voice collapsed, and he was screaming a name.
“O’BRIEN! HIS NAME IS O’BRIEN!!”
Daniel thought he could sit through to the end, but he was
wrong.
Bailey answered several questions in a row without
resistance, snuffling blood through his obliterated nose, but eventually,
naturally, as his years of training demanded, he balked.
Daniel didn’t even know what question had been asked; all
sounds and sights in the world ceased to exist for him. All but one.
Ebin ripped open Bailey’s white Oxford shirt and used the
pliers again. He squeezed and twisted and Bailey turned so pale he was nearly
translucent. Ebin squeezed and twisted a little more, and squeezed and pulled,
and yanked the left nipple off Bailey’s chest; it made a meaty ripping sound.
Bailey went into a seizure of some kind, the small and ugly hole open wide and
vomiting blood down his rib cage, and Daniel promptly left the room. That had
been about 10 minutes ago.
Now there was a gunshot, and Rob walked out of the
interrogation room.
“That didn’t take long,” Daniel said in a quiet voice.
“No steel in their kind, my friend. Most of them crack like
a fucking egg after 20 minutes or so.”
Daniel wondered if he was referring to those that were part
Fort Bragg and part Radio Shack. “Did Ebin get anything else out of him?”
“He told us everything,” Rob said.
“Do you think he’s ... you know ...”
“Modified? Like Wills?” Rob nodded. “Probably, but don’t
quote me until after the autopsy.”
“What was he saying about the civilian factor ? Ever
get that out of him?”
“Well, he didn’t actually know anything concrete, it was
just a rumor. Something about how these, uh modifications won’t be just for
agents anymore. He said the creator is stemming away from the government, going
public.” Rob pushed his glasses back up his nose. “But then again, it was only
a rumor.”
Daniel lit another smoke and changed the subject. “What’s The
Company ? I thought that’s what people called the C.I.A., but he seemed
pretty adamant it wasn’t them.”
Rob sighed heavily, looking Daniel in the eyes. “To tell you
the truth, I didn’t think The Company existed. Nobody did. Just a ghost story
for the paranoid, you know?”
“Yeah, story of my life.”
Rob gave a little smile, and then continued. “Jared told me
about it when I first came out here from New York. I don’t think he even really
believed it, not completely. But he said The Company was puppet-master to the
Feds. He called it ‘the ghost in the machine’.”
“What else?”
“That’s really all I know. But I got the feeling Jared will
tell us when it’s time.”
“All yours, buddy.” Ebin wheeled the body of David Bailey
out into the corridor; still strapped to the chair he died in. There was a
bullet hole where his heart used to be.
“Duty calls.” Rob pushed the chair down the hall to do his
autopsy.
Ebin turned to Daniel. “Lasted longer than I thought you
would,” he said with a smile and shook a cigarette out of his pack.
*****
The surgical saw whined its high-pitched song as it went to
work, cleaving off the perfect bowl of bone, skin,
fucking now .” Ebin applied some pressure to the pliers, enough to get
Bailey’s attention.
“ The Company! It’s The Company! I’m not a fed ...
I’m a goddamned ...”
“The C.I.A.?” Ebin asked.
Bailey shook his head and sobbed.
The Company? Daniel was lost. “What’s The Company?”
Nobody answered.
“Ask him for a name,” Jared said quietly.
Ebin turned to Bailey, who was utterly broken. He constantly
sobbed when he wasn’t spilling his guts. He had another hour to live, tops, and
he knew it. What an hour it would be.
“Tell me.” Ebin flexed his grip on the pliers.
“You know I ... I c-can’t.”
Ebin grinned a little and squeezed the pliers. The crunch
echoed in the tiny room and blood flowed out of Bailey’s nose like a faucet. He
screamed until his voice collapsed, and he was screaming a name.
“O’BRIEN! HIS NAME IS O’BRIEN!!”
Daniel thought he could sit through to the end, but he was
wrong.
Bailey answered several questions in a row without
resistance, snuffling blood through his obliterated nose, but eventually,
naturally, as his years of training demanded, he balked.
Daniel didn’t even know what question had been asked; all
sounds and sights in the world ceased to exist for him. All but one.
Ebin ripped open Bailey’s white Oxford shirt and used the
pliers again. He squeezed and twisted and Bailey turned so pale he was nearly
translucent. Ebin squeezed and twisted a little more, and squeezed and pulled,
and yanked the left nipple off Bailey’s chest; it made a meaty ripping sound.
Bailey went into a seizure of some kind, the small and ugly hole open wide and
vomiting blood down his rib cage, and Daniel promptly left the room. That had
been about 10 minutes ago.
Now there was a gunshot, and Rob walked out of the
interrogation room.
“That didn’t take long,” Daniel said in a quiet voice.
“No steel in their kind, my friend. Most of them crack like
a fucking egg after 20 minutes or so.”
Daniel wondered if he was referring to those that were part
Fort Bragg and part Radio Shack. “Did Ebin get anything else out of him?”
“He told us everything,” Rob said.
“Do you think he’s ... you know ...”
“Modified? Like Wills?” Rob nodded. “Probably, but don’t
quote me until after the autopsy.”
“What was he saying about the civilian factor ? Ever
get that out of him?”
“Well, he didn’t actually know anything concrete, it was
just a rumor. Something about how these, uh modifications won’t be just for
agents anymore. He said the creator is stemming away from the government, going
public.” Rob pushed his glasses back up his nose. “But then again, it was only
a rumor.”
Daniel lit another smoke and changed the subject. “What’s The
Company ? I thought that’s what people called the C.I.A., but he seemed
pretty adamant it wasn’t them.”
Rob sighed heavily, looking Daniel in the eyes. “To tell you
the truth, I didn’t think The Company existed. Nobody did. Just a ghost story
for the paranoid, you know?”
“Yeah, story of my life.”
Rob gave a little smile, and then continued. “Jared told me
about it when I first came out here from New York. I don’t think he even really
believed it, not completely. But he said The Company was puppet-master to the
Feds. He called it ‘the ghost in the machine’.”
“What else?”
“That’s really all I know. But I got the feeling Jared will
tell us when it’s time.”
“All yours, buddy.” Ebin wheeled the body of David Bailey
out into the corridor; still strapped to the chair he died in. There was a
bullet hole where his heart used to be.
“Duty calls.” Rob pushed the chair down the hall to do his
autopsy.
Ebin turned to Daniel. “Lasted longer than I thought you
would,” he said with a smile and shook a cigarette out of his pack.
*****
The surgical saw whined its high-pitched song as it went to
work, cleaving off the perfect bowl of bone, skin,
Similar Books
