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TITLE: Truth, Lies, and the Interrogative Techniques of Kate Freelander
SUMMARY: Logic and training and truth in one employee, instinct and people skills and lies on the other.
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Helen Magnus, Kate Freelander
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, are we there yet?
NOTES: For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sfaflashfic challenge 'games', although I'm thinking 'mindgames'. I've started a dozen flashfics in the last month and never yet managed to finish one of them.
Truth, Lies, and the Interrogative Techniques of Kate Freelander
There's a part of Helen that's glad to see that her newest employee remembers the warehouse. Kate peers out the windscreen with raised brows, then turns to Helen.
"Is this like interrogation central or something?"
"It's a useful location for taking people we need to get information from."
"Out in the old warehouse district, no-one can hear you scream?"
Helen's mouth quirks. "Something like that."
She opens the van door and steps out into the rough brine-laden air. There's a hint of rotting rubbish to the air, and the dusty scent of disused space wafting on the breeze. The shipping traffic that once went through these waterfront sections has turned to trucking freight, and the big container terminal across the harbour sees most of the business.
Helen still recalls when these warehouses were made of old brick and aged wood. Old City was just emerging from its pre-industrialist cocoon, set on the major shipping routes to Alaska, Asia, and the Pacific, with a thriving, growing population of many different cultures. The perfect place to start a Sanctuary.
"Okay, so I've got a suggestion for dealing with this creep. If you're open to it."
"Depends on your suggestion."
"He won't talk immediately. He's got to make a show. At the least, he'll stall for time. When that happens, you walk away. Take a call. Make a call. Something. But you walk across and I'll hit him with the good side of things."
"And that would be?"
"That you're Helen Magnus and he's not dead yet."
Helen considers it. She trusted Kate during the situation at the bank several months ago, and the diversion gained them the time they needed. It wasn't what Helen had in mind when she asked for a diversion, but she can't deny it worked. A little off-the-cuff, perhaps, but Kate pulled it off.
"All right," she says. "He's yours. How long will you need?"
Kate squints up at the cloudy sky then back at Helen. "Give me an hour."
--
Helen finds herself wondering how many times Kate's been on the other side of the interrogation table, or whether the young woman's just watched too many cop or FBI shows.
The conversation began casual after they tied him up and cuffed him to the floor - Kate's a lot more savvy than Henry when it comes to holding prisoners. So far, they've been through Sandor Baldwyn's antecedents, his recent contacts in the abnormal black market, the state of politics, and the last time Kate saw his ex-girlfriend.
Helen held her tongue, although a part of her itched to get to the point. Still, she trusted that Kate had a plan, and after ten minutes of waffle, Kate got down to the tin tacks.
"Okay, Sandor, we've got an essential problem here, because we're down one colleague which is unfortunate for him. However, we're up one informant which is unfortunate for you."
"I don't know anything."
"I know you're lying to me, Sandor - you've got this really inconvenient tick in your left temple." Kate points at her own head to illustrate. "And then there's the fact that I know you know something about the kidnapping of Will Zimmerman outside the shelter down Forty-Seventh, and you know I know you know. We could do this all morning, but I'm short on time and my boss is short on temper."
Blue eyes flicker over to Helen's face then slide away, but the mouth is set in mulish stubbornness.
"Yeah, that's right. She's the boss of this operation. You wanna know who she is?" Kate lets the question hover a moment then enunciates with slow clarity. "Helen Magnus."
The blue eyes fix on Helen for one wide, startled moment. She smiles. Small and prim - the cool smile that people would once have taken for politeness. Helen doesn't intend it to be polite though - her lips may be closed but she's still showing teeth.
"Look, I was just sent to keep an eye out." Sandor's eyes flicker this way and that. "You know? No law against watching the street."
"Sure there's no law against watching the street. There are laws about being an accessory to a crime. Now you can talk to me about who paid you, how much, and what you know - because you're not stupid, Sandor. Helen Magnus can make town extremely uncomfortable for you. Or the country. Or the world. See, death is easy. It's just a bullet in the brain. Life, on the other hand..."
"Look, I can't just-- You know what they'll do--"
"Did I happen to mention that Will Zimmerman is ex-FBI?" Kate tosses that one out with her hands on her hips, her earrings jingling. "Remember Red Schofields?"
Sandor twitches, as though his whole body's just tensed. "That was five years ago."
"Yeah, it was. But you've got a good memory, Sandor - you don't last in our line without a good memory. Remember how he was out - or nearly? And then there was the incident with the FBI agent and the highway patrol out near Lexington." Kate tilts her head. "His son lasted another four weeks because Schofields couldn't pay the medical expenses."
It's not just a twitch now, it's a quiver. "She's nine, Freelander. Just nine. I can cover this, I just need-- You gotta-- You know about family, okay? Family's important. For God's sake--"
He breaks off as Helen's phone begins to ring. A quick check of the front shows it to be Henry's line in the Sanctuary.
Kate looks surprised, in spite of asking for a diversion halfway through the interrogation. Helen shrugs and walks outside the answer it, closing the door on the informant's growing panic.
"Henry, what do you have?"
"Nothing, doc. The cameras have been bollixed - and there's no archives this time. Next archive round isn't until midnight. I'm hoping they just got lucky, not that they've realised-- Listen to me, I'm babbling. How's the hunt going?"
"We've caught our prey. He claims not to know anything, but Kate's talking him up right now."
"Right. Death by interrogation. So how's it going?"
"Well, we've gotten past denial."
"Great, so that just leaves...anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Can she hurry it up? I've been looking up these guys and their MO isn't good news."
"How so?"
"After the incident with Big Bertha and the wave, it looks like this new cult has sprung up here in the States. It's called the Voice of Kali, and it surrounds this translation of a Sanskrit prophecy, okay? So I found the prophecy and the translation...the writing's not good, but I think it says 'priest', it's either that or 'pissed'...the priest of Kali, and I quote: 'the one to whom she reveals herself' and while that sounds kinda cool kinky it becomes considerably less once you realise that she's actually a giant spider--"
"Henry."
"Right. There's stuff about a sacrifice - about sanctification of the unclean and stuff about blood being poured out to appease Kali, and the transfer of her divine pleasure - again with the kinky. But the really worrying part is that one of the phrases about the transfer of kinky stuff is about - and I quote - 'a white goat for Kali'. I think we really gotta find Will."
"Agreed on the last. Thanks, Henry. I'll see how Kate's doing and get back to you."
Now is not the time to educate Henry on the cultural differences between the colonial fears of the British Raj and the original Hindu understanding of the phrase, 'a white goat for Kali'. It might be that the text is perfectly valid in the context of Kali as the primal force associated with death and white as the Indian colour for death - the white goat is already marked as consecrated to the goddess of death and destruction.
Somehow, Helen doubts that this Voice Of Kali cult has taken the Hindu interpretation of the text. She is, perhaps, a little cynical about anyone trying to get their hands on the one person in the world who has a psychic link with the most powerful abnormal in the world.
When she walks back into the warehouse, Kate is perched on a chair swinging her legs.
"We've been through this before. Don't make me go another round."
"It's worth my life, Freelander - my daughter! You know how they are!"
"Yeah, I know how they are. I also know what I can do to you. So right now, your life isn't worth much, Sandor. Tell me where they took Will Zimmerman."
He looks pleadingly at Helen with the eyes of a desperate man. And although Helen knows better than to say or show it, the mention of the daughter hits her weak spot. What wouldn't she have done to keep Ashley? If the Cabal had bid any less ambitiously, they might have gotten exactly what they asked for.
Maybe.
Kate holds up a finger and Sandor's eyes track back towards her. "Remember a year ago, how the word went out that you don't mess with my family? Weird as it sounds to me as well as you, Will Zimmerman is family now, Sandor. And these guys have just messed with him. So, I want you to ask yourself what I'm going to do with you after I dealt with Constantin when he dicked around with my brother. And I had history with Constantin - he was an asshole in the end, but I appreciate what I learned with him. I don't have a history with you. Think about that for a moment."
Helen supposes it probably wouldn't be quite so terrifying if Kate wasn't discussing it as casually as some women might discuss a cup of coffee.
"My daughter--"
"Sure, maybe your daughter deserves better. But sometimes life is a crapshoot."
"Look, I don't know anything."
Kate tilts her head. "Sandor, if your butt wasn't nailed to that chair, your pants would be on fire."
"I don't know anything." He licks his lips and his eyes flicker from Kate to Helen to the floor. "But...I listened, okay? A guy like me has to keep his ears out."
"If he wants to keep them, sure. Get to the information."
"I heard some shit about a construction site. One of the new developments going up on the far side of the bay and how it would be deserted after sundown..."
"Specifics, Sandor!"
"Tavenforth Rd going east, heading up into the mountains. One of the trails leads off to the side...a...a...a barred gate. It oughta be easy to find by moonrise. They were sending people there in the afternoon to prepare the way and...something about purification rites. That's all I heard - that's all I know. I swear it!"
Kate glances at Helen.
"We had some complaints in that area last week," Helen says. Humanoid abnormals living out in the city fringes often brought their complaints and issues to the Sanctuary. "The apartment sets being built on the east side? Just down from the forest line?"
Sandor shrugs. "I tell you what I heard. I don't know the area, and I didn't think it a good idea to go looking it up on a map." Then he squeals as Kate pulls out her weapon and chambers it. "No! Wait! I'm telling you what I know! You promised!"
The shrug is pure carelessness. "Maybe I lied."
Helen admires the acting, but she doesn't miss her cue.
"Put the weapon away, Kate. If his information pans out, we'll let him live."
"Helen, he's a cockroach. If you don't squash him, he'll scuttle back into the woodwork." But Kate shrugs and puts on the safety, although she leans forward to pat Sandor on the cheek, none too gently. "Better hope your information pans out."
--
It's just under an hour since they arrived when they walk out of the warehouse, Sandor's pleas echoing in the empty space as Kate locks the warehouse door behind them. Helen calls Henry to let them know they're going to check out the development site, and to keep an eye on the radar and on the warehouse.
Then she climbs into the passenger seat of the van as Kate starts it up.
"I'm impressed."
"Except for the part where you're horrified?"
"I'm hardly in a position to throw stones when it comes to interrogation techniques."
Kate snorts. "Except you really would have shot me." She rests her wrists on the steering wheel for a moment. "His daughter's nine and has leukaemia. They're scraping by, but barely."
"Sandor would be surprised to know you cared." Helen isn't.
"Yeah, well, it's easier to be threatening when they think you'll carry through."
Yes. Helen knows it is.
Mindgames - which, on consideration, isn't entirely surprising coming from Kate. Will sees what's there to be seen, even if it's hidden; Kate works with what isn't there - but behaves as though it is. Logic and training and truth with one employee, instinct and people skills and lies with the other.
Helen reflects that she certainly knows how to find them.
"And Constantin?" Helen asks, then curbs her curiosity. "Never mind. I don't expect you to share all your secrets with me. I hardly do."
"Drives Will batty. But it's kinda fun."
"We will get him back, you know." It's a promise to herself as well as Kate.
The look Kate gives her is vaguely scornful. "Of course we will. And then I get to give him hell about being the damsel. Again."
"He does seem to end up in these situations rather often, doesn't he?"
"Knows how to pick 'em."
Helen laughs as Kate shifts into gear and the van's wheels spin out on rough gravel before they find purchase, leaping them forward on the hunt.
- fin -
SUMMARY: Logic and training and truth in one employee, instinct and people skills and lies on the other.
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Helen Magnus, Kate Freelander
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, are we there yet?
NOTES: For the
sfaflashfic challenge 'games', although I'm thinking 'mindgames'. I've started a dozen flashfics in the last month and never yet managed to finish one of them. There's a part of Helen that's glad to see that her newest employee remembers the warehouse. Kate peers out the windscreen with raised brows, then turns to Helen.
"Is this like interrogation central or something?"
"It's a useful location for taking people we need to get information from."
"Out in the old warehouse district, no-one can hear you scream?"
Helen's mouth quirks. "Something like that."
She opens the van door and steps out into the rough brine-laden air. There's a hint of rotting rubbish to the air, and the dusty scent of disused space wafting on the breeze. The shipping traffic that once went through these waterfront sections has turned to trucking freight, and the big container terminal across the harbour sees most of the business.
Helen still recalls when these warehouses were made of old brick and aged wood. Old City was just emerging from its pre-industrialist cocoon, set on the major shipping routes to Alaska, Asia, and the Pacific, with a thriving, growing population of many different cultures. The perfect place to start a Sanctuary.
"Okay, so I've got a suggestion for dealing with this creep. If you're open to it."
"Depends on your suggestion."
"He won't talk immediately. He's got to make a show. At the least, he'll stall for time. When that happens, you walk away. Take a call. Make a call. Something. But you walk across and I'll hit him with the good side of things."
"And that would be?"
"That you're Helen Magnus and he's not dead yet."
Helen considers it. She trusted Kate during the situation at the bank several months ago, and the diversion gained them the time they needed. It wasn't what Helen had in mind when she asked for a diversion, but she can't deny it worked. A little off-the-cuff, perhaps, but Kate pulled it off.
"All right," she says. "He's yours. How long will you need?"
Kate squints up at the cloudy sky then back at Helen. "Give me an hour."
--
Helen finds herself wondering how many times Kate's been on the other side of the interrogation table, or whether the young woman's just watched too many cop or FBI shows.
The conversation began casual after they tied him up and cuffed him to the floor - Kate's a lot more savvy than Henry when it comes to holding prisoners. So far, they've been through Sandor Baldwyn's antecedents, his recent contacts in the abnormal black market, the state of politics, and the last time Kate saw his ex-girlfriend.
Helen held her tongue, although a part of her itched to get to the point. Still, she trusted that Kate had a plan, and after ten minutes of waffle, Kate got down to the tin tacks.
"Okay, Sandor, we've got an essential problem here, because we're down one colleague which is unfortunate for him. However, we're up one informant which is unfortunate for you."
"I don't know anything."
"I know you're lying to me, Sandor - you've got this really inconvenient tick in your left temple." Kate points at her own head to illustrate. "And then there's the fact that I know you know something about the kidnapping of Will Zimmerman outside the shelter down Forty-Seventh, and you know I know you know. We could do this all morning, but I'm short on time and my boss is short on temper."
Blue eyes flicker over to Helen's face then slide away, but the mouth is set in mulish stubbornness.
"Yeah, that's right. She's the boss of this operation. You wanna know who she is?" Kate lets the question hover a moment then enunciates with slow clarity. "Helen Magnus."
The blue eyes fix on Helen for one wide, startled moment. She smiles. Small and prim - the cool smile that people would once have taken for politeness. Helen doesn't intend it to be polite though - her lips may be closed but she's still showing teeth.
"Look, I was just sent to keep an eye out." Sandor's eyes flicker this way and that. "You know? No law against watching the street."
"Sure there's no law against watching the street. There are laws about being an accessory to a crime. Now you can talk to me about who paid you, how much, and what you know - because you're not stupid, Sandor. Helen Magnus can make town extremely uncomfortable for you. Or the country. Or the world. See, death is easy. It's just a bullet in the brain. Life, on the other hand..."
"Look, I can't just-- You know what they'll do--"
"Did I happen to mention that Will Zimmerman is ex-FBI?" Kate tosses that one out with her hands on her hips, her earrings jingling. "Remember Red Schofields?"
Sandor twitches, as though his whole body's just tensed. "That was five years ago."
"Yeah, it was. But you've got a good memory, Sandor - you don't last in our line without a good memory. Remember how he was out - or nearly? And then there was the incident with the FBI agent and the highway patrol out near Lexington." Kate tilts her head. "His son lasted another four weeks because Schofields couldn't pay the medical expenses."
It's not just a twitch now, it's a quiver. "She's nine, Freelander. Just nine. I can cover this, I just need-- You gotta-- You know about family, okay? Family's important. For God's sake--"
He breaks off as Helen's phone begins to ring. A quick check of the front shows it to be Henry's line in the Sanctuary.
Kate looks surprised, in spite of asking for a diversion halfway through the interrogation. Helen shrugs and walks outside the answer it, closing the door on the informant's growing panic.
"Henry, what do you have?"
"Nothing, doc. The cameras have been bollixed - and there's no archives this time. Next archive round isn't until midnight. I'm hoping they just got lucky, not that they've realised-- Listen to me, I'm babbling. How's the hunt going?"
"We've caught our prey. He claims not to know anything, but Kate's talking him up right now."
"Right. Death by interrogation. So how's it going?"
"Well, we've gotten past denial."
"Great, so that just leaves...anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Can she hurry it up? I've been looking up these guys and their MO isn't good news."
"How so?"
"After the incident with Big Bertha and the wave, it looks like this new cult has sprung up here in the States. It's called the Voice of Kali, and it surrounds this translation of a Sanskrit prophecy, okay? So I found the prophecy and the translation...the writing's not good, but I think it says 'priest', it's either that or 'pissed'...the priest of Kali, and I quote: 'the one to whom she reveals herself' and while that sounds kinda cool kinky it becomes considerably less once you realise that she's actually a giant spider--"
"Henry."
"Right. There's stuff about a sacrifice - about sanctification of the unclean and stuff about blood being poured out to appease Kali, and the transfer of her divine pleasure - again with the kinky. But the really worrying part is that one of the phrases about the transfer of kinky stuff is about - and I quote - 'a white goat for Kali'. I think we really gotta find Will."
"Agreed on the last. Thanks, Henry. I'll see how Kate's doing and get back to you."
Now is not the time to educate Henry on the cultural differences between the colonial fears of the British Raj and the original Hindu understanding of the phrase, 'a white goat for Kali'. It might be that the text is perfectly valid in the context of Kali as the primal force associated with death and white as the Indian colour for death - the white goat is already marked as consecrated to the goddess of death and destruction.
Somehow, Helen doubts that this Voice Of Kali cult has taken the Hindu interpretation of the text. She is, perhaps, a little cynical about anyone trying to get their hands on the one person in the world who has a psychic link with the most powerful abnormal in the world.
When she walks back into the warehouse, Kate is perched on a chair swinging her legs.
"We've been through this before. Don't make me go another round."
"It's worth my life, Freelander - my daughter! You know how they are!"
"Yeah, I know how they are. I also know what I can do to you. So right now, your life isn't worth much, Sandor. Tell me where they took Will Zimmerman."
He looks pleadingly at Helen with the eyes of a desperate man. And although Helen knows better than to say or show it, the mention of the daughter hits her weak spot. What wouldn't she have done to keep Ashley? If the Cabal had bid any less ambitiously, they might have gotten exactly what they asked for.
Maybe.
Kate holds up a finger and Sandor's eyes track back towards her. "Remember a year ago, how the word went out that you don't mess with my family? Weird as it sounds to me as well as you, Will Zimmerman is family now, Sandor. And these guys have just messed with him. So, I want you to ask yourself what I'm going to do with you after I dealt with Constantin when he dicked around with my brother. And I had history with Constantin - he was an asshole in the end, but I appreciate what I learned with him. I don't have a history with you. Think about that for a moment."
Helen supposes it probably wouldn't be quite so terrifying if Kate wasn't discussing it as casually as some women might discuss a cup of coffee.
"My daughter--"
"Sure, maybe your daughter deserves better. But sometimes life is a crapshoot."
"Look, I don't know anything."
Kate tilts her head. "Sandor, if your butt wasn't nailed to that chair, your pants would be on fire."
"I don't know anything." He licks his lips and his eyes flicker from Kate to Helen to the floor. "But...I listened, okay? A guy like me has to keep his ears out."
"If he wants to keep them, sure. Get to the information."
"I heard some shit about a construction site. One of the new developments going up on the far side of the bay and how it would be deserted after sundown..."
"Specifics, Sandor!"
"Tavenforth Rd going east, heading up into the mountains. One of the trails leads off to the side...a...a...a barred gate. It oughta be easy to find by moonrise. They were sending people there in the afternoon to prepare the way and...something about purification rites. That's all I heard - that's all I know. I swear it!"
Kate glances at Helen.
"We had some complaints in that area last week," Helen says. Humanoid abnormals living out in the city fringes often brought their complaints and issues to the Sanctuary. "The apartment sets being built on the east side? Just down from the forest line?"
Sandor shrugs. "I tell you what I heard. I don't know the area, and I didn't think it a good idea to go looking it up on a map." Then he squeals as Kate pulls out her weapon and chambers it. "No! Wait! I'm telling you what I know! You promised!"
The shrug is pure carelessness. "Maybe I lied."
Helen admires the acting, but she doesn't miss her cue.
"Put the weapon away, Kate. If his information pans out, we'll let him live."
"Helen, he's a cockroach. If you don't squash him, he'll scuttle back into the woodwork." But Kate shrugs and puts on the safety, although she leans forward to pat Sandor on the cheek, none too gently. "Better hope your information pans out."
--
It's just under an hour since they arrived when they walk out of the warehouse, Sandor's pleas echoing in the empty space as Kate locks the warehouse door behind them. Helen calls Henry to let them know they're going to check out the development site, and to keep an eye on the radar and on the warehouse.
Then she climbs into the passenger seat of the van as Kate starts it up.
"I'm impressed."
"Except for the part where you're horrified?"
"I'm hardly in a position to throw stones when it comes to interrogation techniques."
Kate snorts. "Except you really would have shot me." She rests her wrists on the steering wheel for a moment. "His daughter's nine and has leukaemia. They're scraping by, but barely."
"Sandor would be surprised to know you cared." Helen isn't.
"Yeah, well, it's easier to be threatening when they think you'll carry through."
Yes. Helen knows it is.
Mindgames - which, on consideration, isn't entirely surprising coming from Kate. Will sees what's there to be seen, even if it's hidden; Kate works with what isn't there - but behaves as though it is. Logic and training and truth with one employee, instinct and people skills and lies with the other.
Helen reflects that she certainly knows how to find them.
"And Constantin?" Helen asks, then curbs her curiosity. "Never mind. I don't expect you to share all your secrets with me. I hardly do."
"Drives Will batty. But it's kinda fun."
"We will get him back, you know." It's a promise to herself as well as Kate.
The look Kate gives her is vaguely scornful. "Of course we will. And then I get to give him hell about being the damsel. Again."
"He does seem to end up in these situations rather often, doesn't he?"
"Knows how to pick 'em."
Helen laughs as Kate shifts into gear and the van's wheels spin out on rough gravel before they find purchase, leaping them forward on the hunt.
- fin -
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