… Interrogation. Shit.
Kara wasnotgoing to believe what had happened to her on her holiday when she got back home.
Ifshe got back home.
No, there was no point thinking like that. Rhys was going to come for her. She knew it.
Still, she wished that he would come before they got around to the interrogation. She didn’t think that she was the type of person to hold up well over a long period of time. Especially since she really didn’t know anything! How could she tell them what they wanted to hear if she didn’t even know what that was?
The lift finally opened – it felt like she’d been in there forever, but it had probably only been a matter of seconds. The building wasn’t that huge.
Despite everything, Maisie found herself curious as they pulled her into a room. Had they booked the room on the way in? Were they already here on their own secret agent holiday, which Maisie had so rudely interrupted? Had this enormous military-looking guy with the ridiculous flat-top haircut been called from his much-anticipated bubble bath? No wonder he was so cranky.
Who even has hair like that in this day and age?!
Perhaps she was already going crazy. Certainly she was starting to panic.
Just stay calm,she admonished herself, as she forced herself to take a slow breath in and hold it.You deal with stressful situations every day. You can do it.She let her breath out in a controlled, steady stream.You need to keep your mouth shut so you don’t somehow incriminate yourself, and see if you can learn anything important.
The room, in the end, was pretty boring – some sort of conference room, she supposed – and she resigned herself to never knowing whether the military-looking guy was the type to put his clothes in the wardrobe when he stayed at a hotel.
“Tea?” Military Man asked gruffly, and Maisie was so taken aback that she nodded before she could even register how freakingweirdthis was.
He turned the kettle on. “How do you take it?”
“White, no sugar,” she said automatically.And stone cold because I got called away to a patient before I had a chance to even take a sip, she didn’t add.
He nodded. “Take a seat,” he said, and she sat at the table. Brent slumped down across from her, looking extremely sorry for himself, and she averted her eyes. Just because she felt kind of bad for him, didn’t mean she wanted anything to do with him. And she certainly didn’t want him to think that she was showing any kind of interest in him whatsoever.
Instead, she looked around the room, hoping for something she could use to her advantage.
After several seconds of scrutinizing the room, she came to the conclusion that her only possible way out of here was by boring her captors to death.
Gray carpet, white laminate table, off-white walls, projector screen in the corner, singular kettle. The sole thing of even vague interest was the window, but that did nothing but remind her that she was several stories off the ground and would be horribly maimed if she tried to escape out of it. Even the teabags were the kind of cut-rate rubbish that flourished in cheapskate workplaces.
“Here.” Military Man placed a cup of tea in front of her, then loosened her cuffs. Maisie had half a second to internally rejoice before he re-cuffed her in front of her body.
Well, it was nice while it lasted,she thought morosely as she took a sip of her too-hot tea. Not enough milk, but she supposed that captives couldn’t be choosers.
He came back with a biscuit on a piece of paper towel, again placing it in front of her. Disappointedly, she realized that these cheap bastards hadn’t even bothered to spring for a pack of Assorted Creams, and she was instead stuck with a Scotch Finger… but, she supposed, things could be worse. And shewashungry.
She snapped the biscuit in half, sending crumbs flying everywhere, and bit into the buttery, crumbly goodness. Belatedly she hoped that they hadn’t poisoned it with truth serum or something, but surely even they wouldn’t sink so low as to poison a biscuit?
“Hey!” Brent called out, his bravado apparently making a comeback. “Where’s my tea?”
Military Man stared at him for a long moment, before turning and walking over to the kettle without a word.
“White, three sugars!” Brent yelled after him, and Maisie rolled her eyes as she sipped her own cup. She would’ve liked to have thought that this situation might’ve caused him to grow a little as a person, but obviously that was too much to ask for. Not for the first time today, she wondered how she’d ever managed to go out with this guy for even three minutes, let alone three months.
The military guy dunked a teabag three times into a cup of water, dumped in some sugar without stirring, and poured in a dash of milk, before setting it roughly in front of Brent and stalking off again.
“Hey!” Brent yelled again. “What about these?”
He was obviously trying to gesture to make his point, but was unable to do so due to his hands being cuffed behind his back… which, Maisie supposed, was the point.
“What about them?” Military Man asked.
Brent gave him an ingratiating smile that was definitely not half as charming as Maisie knew he thought it was. “How am I supposed to drink? Could you do me a favor and cuff me ’round the front?Shegot cuffed ’round the front, and she’s here on spying charges! She even got a biscuit! Where’smybiscuit?!”
