Rotted Roots — Part 4: A Different Kind of Interrogation
Ryder woke up tied to a chair with the black bag still over his head. He could feel that his wrists had been tied to the arms of the chair. He blinked several times to get the sleep from his eyes and tried to look around. The bag was thick — all he saw were shapes in the darkness.
Then there was light. Specifically a camp light set up in front of him. The bag was ripped off and Ryder saw what he was facing.
The men had brought him to a building that was still under construction. By the looks of it they were in what was going to be a large penthouse. Slabs of different colored granite lined one wall. A large counter had several blueprints laid out on them. Concrete dust covered the unfinished floors. The wind kicked up from the open walls that had yet to be covered with glass. That was to say nothing about the people watching Ryder.
There were nine in all. Eight of them stood in different areas around the room — two by the nonexistent windows, three by the kitchen that was unsuitable for cooking even a toaster strudel, one by the hallway leading to another room (bedroom?), and one by the exit. The last one, an angular man with striking green eyes and curly brown hair, was seated directly across from Ryder. The lamp below them illuminated the sharp lines in his features.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been bound and thrown into a truck, so you’re not really scaring me.”
“Maxwell Ryder.”
“You know who I am, so how about telling me who you are. You’re not with the people with the masks that one time on Everwood Island, are you?”
“Pierce Saturday. What do you know about him?”
Ryder looked at the men watching him. Each one was focused on his answers. “How do I know you haven’t hurt him?”
“Because he’s already dead.”
Ryder rolled his head back in defeat. His head began to spin.
“Mister Ryder, we work for the same organization he did.”
“So you’re with the government too?”
“That’s right.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Tell me what you know.”
“Not much. He came to see me at my office sixteen days ago. He talked about my siblings. Said you guys were finally going after them and that he had a plan to infiltrate their company to bring them down.”
“Sixteen days ago?”
“That’s right.”
The man in front of him pulled out a photo from the file on his lap. “I don’t see how that’s possible since Agent Saturday has been dead for over three weeks.”
He placed a photo of a mousy man with a hooked nose and a thin scar on his chin on Ryder’s lap. His skull looked caved in around his forehead. “His neighbors complained about the smell of rotting food,” the agent continued. “The super let himself in and found Saturday folded inside his refrigerator.”
“This isn’t him.”
“Excuse me?”
“This isn’t Saturday. This isn’t the man who came to visit me.”
“Believe me, Mister Ryder, this is indeed Pierce Saturday. I worked with him before. I know — knew — the man as well as anyone in the National Division.”
“And I’m telling you that isn’t who visited me. This guy was bigger…bulkier, like a weight lifter. And he had a silver tooth on the bottom of his mouth.”
The agent leaned back in his seat. A few of the other agents began talking into their sleeves. The one by the bedroom sniggered.
“Mister Ryder, we didn’t bring you here to talk.”
Ryder pulled against the ties binding him to the seat. “I figured that one out for myself, actually.”
“We know you two were aware of one another.”
“I’ve never met this man before.”
“That’s not what he said.” The agent produced another piece of paper and began reading from it. “Watched M. Ryder. Spent day drinking at a bar called Blake’s. Proceed with caution. His actions are lynchpin to R.I. dealings.”
“Anyone could tell you where I drink.”
“And could they tell me that you’re important to what goes on in your family’s company?”
“No, because they’d be lying.”
“What if you knew Saturday was on to you and what your family has been doing?”
“I don’t have anything to do with — “
“Except exacerbating them to the point of retaliation. Your family squabbles have gotten plenty of people hurt over the years. It’s time you all were handled.”
“Which is why we’re here, in this very scary, very clichéd construction site? Because you think I killed this guy?” Ryder laughed at the agent. “Take it from me, when you want to scare someone into talking, a little creativity never hurts.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. But they didn’t bring me in from the International Division just to talk your ear off.”
The agent stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. Out of all of the people in the room, his suit was the most impressive. Tailored, cut just above the ankle, smooth lines that still allowed movement in the arms. A nice piece all around. Ryder almost felt envious.
“I don’t think I got your name.”
“Servaes.”
“Well, Agent Servaes, I don’t know what you’re planning on doing to me, but I am going to get out of this. And then I’m going to prove that I’m right about all of this.”
“No, you won’t.” Servaes turned to the man by the bedroom. “Can you handle the cleanup, Ellis?”
“I think we can take care of it.” He pulled on a pair of black gloves. The others did the same.
“Good. I’ll be downstairs.” Servaes headed for the door. The other agents began to move towards Ryder. When he got to the door Servaes stopped and turned. “I’m sorry, Mister Ryder. I know you’ve helped people. But rotten roots produce rotten fruit.” He closed the door behind him.
“The International Division thinks they’re really scary,” said Agent Ellis as he stepped forward. “Just because they get to kill anyone they want with impunity. When really, it’s us Nationals that do the really dirty work, like taking out garbage like you.”
“Wow, that is really terrible. Did you come up with that yourself?” Ellis scowled and unbuttoned his jacket. “You should study up on interrogation tactics before next time. I’ll give you a freebie right now. When you have someone tied to a rickety chair like this…” Ryder balanced himself on the balls of his feet. “Be sure to tie their legs down.”
Ryder pushed up off from the floor and threw himself backwards. He heard the echo of Ellis’ voice while he hung in the air and saw the suited men running towards him as the chair hit the floor. He felt the wood snap underneath him.
The men thought they had the advantage. With seven of them and one of Ryder, it should have been an easy hit. Only now Ryder was freed, and he was trained, and very angry.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK…
Part 2: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-2-a-meeting-is-set-1c879ad163ee#.m5ejkesx1
Part 3: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-3-contact-is-lost-3a684d5ce7c9#.ooxxuts1f
