*~*~*~*~*~*THE INTERROGATION*~*~*~*~*~*
Aaron Mitchell was a cocky SOB that from the day he started working at the agency always acted like he was better than anyone else. It was part of the persona that had been built for him by the old man himself who know from the onset that Aaron was a very special person and would always get the job done.
Aaron's overpowering need for perfection in every op he was assigned caused two other handlers to give up on him but for the past three years veteran handler Brian Foster became the first and only person that could do what he was supposed to do - handle Aaron, keep him in check but mostly keep him under control.
*
I arrived at Langley just before nine Monday morning. I wasn't sure if was my paranoia, which in my profession is a healthy thing to have, within moderation, but I felt that all eyes were centered on me as I 'sauntered' to my team's bullpen. Casually I looked around at seeing who had seemed particularly interested in my appearance in the office. I felt I knew everyone intimately, after spending the past four days delving into their lives and yet I had to 'pretend' that I was the stranger they all knew.
Brian Foster was his usual formal self, garnering me a firm handshake as a welcome home greeting. Like me he was former military who appeared to have retained the formalness of rank and file by always taking a military stance and never showing any emotion whatsoever. Over the years and the countless operations we were involved in we always maintained a strictly professional relationship that never went beyond the office. He was a firm believer adhering to the rules and regulations the old man had set forth for us by having a solid separation between work and a private life.
He didn't bother asking me how I was, how the trip back to the United States was or what I did on my days off. He just sat me down at a round table in the center of our space with the rest of team already in place. The admin, Gary Snyder, offered me coffee, which I turned down and the meeting started.
"The three of us have already been interviewed and poly'ied," he told me without looking in my direction. "For some reason they wanted you here to interview as well. I personally think it was way too soon to bring you back to the states. This has all but killed your Ivan persona."
Brian was letting me know that he didn't appreciate the actions that IA was taking with regards to the General's untimely death.
*
Garrett Simonson, who I knew as Lawrence Coburn, made us wait until after one o'clock in the afternoon. It was planned this way. He wanted to rub me raw at every chance he could. The idea was to teeter me on the edge as much as he could. I'd come to find out that psychological warfare was sometimes a more powerful tool than physical tactical warfare.
Brian escorted me into the conference room where Lawrence/Garrett sat engrossed in something on his laptop. Brain had made the decision from the onset that he would be with me during all interrogations. The room was practically silent as Garrett made us sit for a cool two minutes before acknowledging that we were in the room.
"Mr. Mitchell," he said introducing himself.
Giving him my best cocky attitude I burst out laughing and turned to Brian asking why they were allowing high school students to conduct internal affair interviews.
"Mr. Mitchell...I don't find your condescending attitude the least bit funny. I take my job as IA very seriously and would appreciate you giving me the same respect I am going to give to you."
He looked up at me and for the first time in twenty hours I was able to look into his eyes. Images of yesterday afternoon lying naked in his arms flashed before me and I couldn't help but let out the tiniest of smiles.
"Yes Sir!" I exclaimed, still on the sarcastic side but more reserved than I had been.
For the next three hours I spoke at length in broad generalities about the operation in Syria. I was evasive when I had to be and descriptive when I needed to be. The signals that Lawrence and I had worked out guided me the whole throughout the afternoon. Brian sat quietly listening to everything I said, nodding his head when he needed to and adding a word of two when he felt I was leaving something out.
"That is all for today. Tomorrow morning you are scheduled for your polygraph and some more questioning." He was so fucking cute I just wanted to shout to the rafters, but I held my position letting Brian notice that for the first time I was getting concerned about the investigation.
"Is there a certain reason why I have to go through all of this? I debriefed for close to two weeks after the op which included a polygraph. Now, close to a month later you are asking me all the same questions again?"
"Mr. Mitchell, you lost a very valuable asset on your watch. Some new information has come to light over the past month and we have to review all the facts as we see them. Of course it goes without saying that if you are confident there should be no reason for us to be concerned all these questions we are submitting you to shouldn't be a problem." He paused for a moment than added, "Should it?"
"No, it shouldn't." I said meekly. "I've just never known anyone to have to go through this before."
"Yes well we are dealing with special circumstances now...that seem to be centering on you and the op that you ran...and again I repeat that if you ran your operation completely above board you should have nothing to worry about."
I was released from the conference room at close to five that afternoon. Brian was oddly quiet as we walked back to our area. "Is everything okay?" He asked when we were back in his office. "You didn't' cross any lines while you were there, did you?"
"I always cross lines Brian, that's why I'm so successful. If you are asking me if I had anything to do with the General's death the answer is no, I didn't. I was completely sidelined when I got news of this death."
"That kid in there isn't going to let up on you." He responded. "Don't let his age or naïve looks fool you, under everything he's a fucking bull and will drag the truth out of you."
