Prisoners were immobilized with ropes or cords. Feet slightly inclined. Head below legs. Cellophane was wrapped around the subject's face and water was poured over him. Almost instantly the gag reflex kicked in and the subject panicked, terrified of drowning and certain death. Rumor has it that several CIA officials volunteered to go through the ordeal to understand its physiological devastation. Their average endurance time was fourteen seconds.
Payne was familiar with all this information. What he didn't know was Dr. Sheldon's role in what was going on. Had he been called in as an expert to assess the crime scene? Or was the cave one of his experiments gone wrong? And if so, who was the intended victim?
"Bear with me," Payne said as he changed the direction of their conversation. "Last time we spoke, I asked for the names of prisoners in black-op facilities. Unfortunately, you were unable to help. So let me approach this from a different angle. One of my sources recently gave me the name of a known terrorist who we think might be part of this. If I mentioned his name, would you be able to confirm or deny his capture?"
Raskin chose his words carefully. 'Technically, I couldn't confirm anyone's capture without proper clearance. But I'd be happy to deny any rumors that I felt could hurt your mission."
"Fine. The name we heard is Hakeem Salaam."
Raskin said nothing for the next fifteen seconds.
'Thank you," Payne said, reading between the lines. "That's a big help."
"My pleasure. Now unless you have something else, please put the sergeant major back on the phone. I want to mess with him some before I get back to work."
Whatever Raskin said to Crawford was effective, because from that moment on he was on his best behavior. He led Payne and Jones to a private computer terminal, where they were able to download Dr. Sheldon's file and print several photographs they had requested.
Armed with this new information, they were escorted across the facility grounds to where the Parks were being detained. Kia was called out of the room for a quick briefing, filling them in on the past few hours, describing what was said on the boat, in the helicopter, and in the holding cell. Amazingly, just like Mr. Kim in the village, the Parks had warmed to her in a short time-incredible, considering the circumstances.
"Is the boy talking?" Payne wondered.
"Not about the cave, but he is talking about other things. He's a great kid who's been through a whole lot. I'm stunned he's even coherent."
"What about the dad?"
"Scared. Angry. Anxious. Emotional. Everything you'd expect from a guy who lost his family and doesn't know why."
"What do you recommend?"
"About what?"
"About talking to them. We need to know what they know. ASAP."
"But Jon-"
"I know," he said, not letting her get started with an emotional plea. This was one of those situations where he wouldn't be dissuaded. 'Trust me, I realize they aren't ready to talk and won't be ready for some time. Unfortunately, this interview can't wait. We got some new intel that we need to act on immediately, and the only way to do that is by talking to them. So whether it's you, me, or all three of us combined, this conversation needs to take place right now."
33
Kia led the Parks into an interview room and prepared them for what was about to happen. She assured them that Payne was a decent man who would do them no harm, that he'd lost a good friend during the violence at the cave, and needed their statements to find the people responsible. When put in those terms, Chung-Ho was more than willing to help-even though he knew it would be painful for him and his son-because it was the honorable thing to do.
Payne came in next. Polite. Respectful. Empathetic. None of it an act of any kind. He'd lost his parents at an early age, killed by a drunk driver when he was in junior high, so he was all too familiar with sudden loss. His years as a soldier, surrounded by death and destruction, hadn't dulled any of those feelings, and they never would.
They'd be a part of him forever.
"I know some of these questions are going to be difficult, probably the last thing in the world that you want to talk about, but I wouldn't be asking them if they weren't so important." Payne paused, trying to ease into the interview.
"Obviously, if you'd feel more comfortable speaking in Korean, we can use Kia as an interpreter."
Chung-Ho shook his head. "My English is good. So is my son's. We speak good."
"Yes, you do. Much better than I speak Korean." He smiled, hoping to keep the conversation friendly. "To make things easier, I'd like to start with you. I figure the more you can tell me, the less I'll have to ask your son. In the long run, I think that would be best. Don't you?"
He nodded in appreciation, thankful for Payne's kindness.
Meanwhile, Yong-Su sat in a chair in the back corner, staring at the floor in a semidaze. Kia sat next to him, telling him about her childhood in Korea, occasionally brushing the black hair from his eyes, like a mother might do. More worried about his well-being than the interview that was taking place ten feet away.
"If we can," Payne said, "I'd like to talk about last Saturday."
Chung-Ho described what he could remember. Yong-Su had stumbled home from the cave, covered in blood. After checking him for injuries, Chung-Ho went from neighbor to neighbor, asking if they had seen anything, but no one had. Soon they discovered a trail of blood leading toward the cave. Panicked, he rushed to Kim and asked him what he should do. Kim's advice was to take his son and leave town immediately. So he did, just like that. His wife and family were supposed to follow and meet them an hour later. But the people from the cave prevented it.
"Have you been to the village since?"
"No. It is not safe." He looked back at his son, choosing his next words carefully. "When my wife not arrive, I call Mr. Kim from pay phone. He tell me what happen to village. He tell me never come back and not call police. He handle everything."
Kim hadn't mentioned the phone call, but it explained why Chung-Ho had never returned to check on his wife and the rest of his family. He already knew what had happened to them.
"Did you see anyone from the cave that day?"
"No."
"What about beforehand? Maybe a stranger walking in the woods?"
"I see nothing. We stay in village. They stay in cave. No strangers."
"But your son," he said delicately. "He saw some people, didn't he?"
Chung-Ho turned and looked at his boy.
"Did he tell you what he saw?"
He took a deep breath, then nodded. "He see blood. People in cave with blood."
"You mean dead people?"
He shook his head. "No. People still alive. They were talking."
Payne paused, confused. Until that moment, he had assumed that Yong-Su had stumbled into the scene after everyone was dead, possibly overhearing the killers talk about the black stone as they left the cave. But now his father was telling him the exact opposite. Yong-Su was in there while people were still alive.
In a heartbeat, the direction of the interview had to be changed.
Payne thought back to the cave, recalling the layout of the initial chamber. A desk and a chair were bolted to the middle of the floor. A single lightbulb, equipped with a tiny camera, hung from the volcanic rock. Everything was bathed in blood-the floor, the ceiling, the walls. On the bright side, if there was one, the blood was primarily contained in that one room, the place where interrogations occurred. And since Yong-Su was covered in blood, he'd obviously been in there. Maybe during a torture session. If so, who knew what he could answer?