John burst his bubble. “Those are Chinese-American creations.”
“Well, here ya go. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, she’s lucky to be getting anything at all.”
John made his way to the door before he stopped short. “You’re a real charmer, Moss. Don’t go far. If the nice-guy routine doesn’t get her talking, I may need someone to play the bad guy.”
The guard posted outside the interrogation room nodded to John and opened the door as he approached.
The prisoner glanced up, watching John as he entered and sat down across from her. Apart from the fact that her lips were drawn into a thin line, it was difficult to detect any real emotion coming from her.
“Are you hungry?” John asked, sliding the food over to her. Her gaze fell to the plate and then rose back to him.
Silence.
“If I were you, I’d eat, since this may be your only meal of the day.”
John brought his hand up to his mouth, trying his best to demonstrate what he figured was the universal sign for eating.
Her expression didn’t change.
“Do you speak English?” John asked. Mandarin was the most common dialect in China, but finding someone in Oneida, Tennessee who could speak it was more than a long shot.
More silence. The food didn’t seem to interest her either.
“Well at least you can tell me what unit you’re with. The Geneva Convention allows for that.”
“Name, date of birth, rank and service number,” she replied in broken, but surprisingly good English. “I am required to give you nothing else.”
She was right, but more importantly, John had just learned that she spoke English.
“Then let’s start with your name.”
“Huan Wei,” she replied after a small delay.
“Huan,” John said. “Your name means happiness.”
Her eyes fluttered, betraying the first hint of emotion. “I know what my name means.”
“And your rank?” he asked in as calm and soothing a voice as he could muster.
“Lieutenant.”
“So am I.”
“You’re in the military?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore, but I was.” He looked down at the food and was beginning to think she either wasn’t hungry or that it wasn’t quite to her taste. “I wish we had something else to offer you besides rice and whatever that meat is.”
The pilot stared at him blankly.
“Your English is quite good. Where did you study?”
“Cambridge,” Huan replied.
“In England. How nice.” The truth was he was disappointed in her answer. He had hoped she’d studied somewhere in America. Berkeley or NYU. That would have given them more common ground, helped to break down barriers and weaken her resistance.
Either way, John felt the time had come to take his questioning up a notch. “Listen, Huan. I want you to tell me why you were flying over Oneida. What was the purpose of your mission?”
“I’ve already told you what information I’m required to give.”
“Yes, and I heard you. You should know, however, that there is a large group of angry people in this town waiting outside who would love nothing more than to hang you from the closest tree for what you’ve done.”
A crack in her armor was starting to appear. “I’ve done my duty. Nothing else.”
“Maybe you have, but that’s not the way we see it. You’ve come to our home, killed and imprisoned innocent people.” John felt his own blood pressure begin to rise and tried to calm himself down.
“I’ve told you already that wasn’t me.”
“Yes, but do you think the people outside are going to listen to you? I’m giving you options. Behind door number one is the easy way where you tell me everything I need to know. You’ll be given food, medical attention and a safe place to stay. Behind door number two is pain and discomfort. Trust me, I’m not thrilled about hurting a woman, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people close to me.” John let out a deep breath. He wanted his words to have a moment to settle in. “So, what’ll it be?”
“I’ve already told you what information I’m required to give,” she repeated, like a mantra.
John sat up straight, laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles with a series of loud pops. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but Huan’s defiance meant it was time to bring Moss in to encourage her in other ways.
Chapter 26
The observation room was cleared except for John and Ray. Through the two-way mirror, they watched as Moss and two others waterboarded Huan, a mild form of torture which involved holding a person on their back, placing a cloth over their face and dousing them with water. Although it wouldn’t leave any lasting physical effect, the sensation of drowning would be overwhelming.
“It’s a real disgusting thing to do to a woman,” Ray said, arms crossed over his chest.
Inside, John echoed those same feelings. Perhaps he even felt more strongly than that. “I wonder if you’d be saying the same thing if she were a man?”
Ray looked at him. “I suppose I wouldn’t.”
“Woman or not, she’s a soldier, Ray. A soldier who may have important information our boys at the front can use. If she knows something that could turn the tide, would you still object?”
Ray didn’t reply, probably because he hated admitting that sometimes horrible decisions needed to be made. In war, there wasn’t room for wishful thinking. There was only winning or losing.
Some people in town saw Ray’s idealism as a sign of weakness, but truth be told, that was what John liked about the man and one of the reasons he’d made him vice mayor. He wasn’t looking for someone who would parrot his own views. Even a government the size of the one in Oneida needed some form of checks and balances.
“Maybe you should be in there doing it yourself,” Ray jabbed.
John frowned. “You think I’m being a coward, is that it? That I’m getting Moss to do my dirty work? What you’re forgetting, Ray, is that I’ve built a rapport with Huan. It might not seem like much, but once she’s been broken, it’ll make a world of difference. I’m the anaesthetic that will make all her pain go away. In a moment, I’ll rush in there and reprimand Moss for going too far, ordering him to stop, even threatening to arrest him. She’ll hate Moss for what he’s done and a tiny part of her will thank me for stepping in. I’ll make her feel safe. Not completely, but maybe just enough to open up.”
John didn’t wait around to see if Ray had started to see the issue clearly yet. He left and burst into the interrogation room, performing the role of good cop just as he had described. Feigning anger and humiliation, Moss and the two men helping him stormed out, leaving John to remove the wet cloth over Huan’s face. He lifted her—discovering in the process that even soaking wet, she was surprisingly light—and sat her back on the chair, cuffing her hands to metal rings on the table. She fought to catch her breath, coughing and gagging.
“I never meant for that to happen,” he lied. “I’d asked my colleague to question you vigorously, not torture you. We’re going to find you some clothes to change into.”
Huan sat shivering before him, wheezing in and out. She resembled less a porcelain doll now than she did a wet cat.
“I’m going to do my best to keep him away from you, but the longer you hold out, the less I can do to keep you safe.”
There was a long, drawn-out silence before Huan cleared her throat, drew in a ragged gasp of air and spoke. “What do you want to know?”
John nodded, trying not to show the slightest glimmer that he’d won. He was playing the reluctant interrogator who was only collecting information in order to keep her safe. It was a nasty game, no doubt about it. But if there was another way to get the job done, John had never found it.