The Conmen Cometh - prt 2
***
Meanwhile, in the basement of the University’s Psychology department, Eliot found himself sitting opposite a suit.
“Do you know who I am?” the Suit asked.
“You’re the guy in charge,” Eliot answered, keeping his voice neutral. He’d bet his hat this guy was bureau, FBI or CIA, he wasn’t sure. Although by the smarminess of him, Eliot would bet CIA.
The Suit laughed. “Do I look like a psychologist to you? No. I’m here, dancing for my food, just like you. You’ve got your part to play, and I’ve got mine.”
“And what’s your part?” Eliot asked.
“Inside that envelope is a word. Go ahead. Read it.” The Suit pushed an envelope across the table. Eliot opened the envelope and looked at the word. The Suit started talking again. “You and I are gonna play a game. The rules are simple. I’m gonna try to get you to tell me that word. You’re gonna do whatever it takes to keep it secret. For every day you’re successful, you’ll earn another 100 bucks. But if I learn that word before the end of the experiment, you get nothing.”
Eliot just stared blankly at the Suit. He heard somebody cough, like they were stifling a laugh coming from behind him and heard one of the undergrads telling ‘veteran 4’ to shut up. The Suit’s eyes squinted for a fraction of a second in frustration before he began speaking again.
“I won’t physically harm you, but other than that, any means necessary.” The Suit relaxed back into his chair.
“You puffed up prick,” Eliot thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “Do you really think promising not to hurt me is your best first move?”
“Well, haven’t you heard? Torture doesn’t work,” The Suit sneered contemptuously.
“Depends on the torture. Depends on the man. When do we start?” Eliot deadpanned.
“We started as soon as you walked into this room. Where have you been?” The Suit stood and leaned over the table, placing his face close to Eliot’s but far enough away that Eliot couldn’t head-butt him with any sort of sudden movement. They kept eyeballing each other until Suit spoke again, low and threatening.
“Don’t you eyeball me, leech. I don’t want you in my room any more than you want to be here. So, why don’t you do us both a favor and tell me the word?” He moved away slightly to a less dominant position, leaning almost casually against the table’s edge and continued. “’Cause if you make me work for this, I’m not gonna send you home with your tail between your legs. I’m gonna cut the damn thing off!” The Suit pounded his fists on the table, “I’m gonna break you into pieces!”
Eliot eyeballed the man for a good half-minute before he answered, “So, we start tomorrow then?”
The Suit straightened and looked down at Eliot. He jerked his head once and Eliot was manhandled back into his cell. He caught sight of ‘Vet 4’ the blond-haired man. The man gave him a cheeky grin then stepped back into his cell.
“Nate, this experiment isn’t about sleep. They got a professional interrogator in here. I think they’re trying to find new ways to break people.” The music began to blare once more and Eliot had to put his hand over his ears to speak, “They’re not trying to cure PTSD. They’re trying to cause it!”
“You sure?” Nate asked but Eliot’s reply was lost in the background noise of the music and what sounded like somebody singing very off key.
Eliot moved to the doorway and saw ‘vet 4’ being manhandled out of his cell and out of the room. One of the undergrads looked back over his shoulder towards the other cells and for a split second, Eliot could have sworn his eyes looked like they’d been completely blacked out.
He shook the thought off and settled down to block out the noise of the music. The heavy metal had been changed to country but the loudness was still this side of unbearable. He wondered how the other vets were holding up.
Sometime later the man known as Vet 4 was brought back to his cell. He was shouting loudly about them all being demons and bound for hell. Eliot chuckled to himself as the undergrad guards swore and manhandled the vet back into his cell. He could tell by the guy’s tone he was messing with the students.
Later, while standing in line, he asked Mac how he was holding up. They must have recruited more volunteers because he counted ten men sitting at the table. Lunch was tasteless, but edible. One of the older veterans stumbled as they were being hustled back into their cells. Eliot caught the man before he fell.
“I got you. I got you,” he said. The vet gave him a look of gratitude.
The same couldn’t be said for their current undergrad ‘guard’. He came towards Eliot with a stun gun, “I said no talking!”
Eliot caught hold of the stun gun before it hit him and easily held it away from his body before he looked around. He caught the vet’s eye and that of the blond-haired man. Both motioned him to let it go, now wasn’t the time to cause trouble. Eliot he rolled his eyes and let the gun stun him in the chest, falling to the floor. The undergrad guard puffed himself up like a bull-frog and glared at the other veterans. “Huh?! Get back in line!”
***
Back at the team’s headquarters, a backroom accessed through McRory’s bar, Hardison and Nate were comparing notes and film from their field surveillance.
“The mystery man is called Conrad. Or at least that’s what they call him. He’s CIA and definitely the one protecting Zilgram.”
“That’s got to be our focus. We got to find a way to make him believe that protecting Zilgram is not worth his trouble,” Nate stated.
“It won’t be easy, Nate. The Brotherhood of Dust runs bone deep. I’m so sleep-deprived, I’m starting to talk like them. This rush week is torture. What’s that noise?” Hardison touched his ear-piece adjusting the volume to try and stop the noise.
Eliot’s voice anwered, “That’s my teeth chattering. Its 20 degrees in here, but at least there’s no music. Don’t worry about me, Hardison. You got rush week to deal with.”
Nate looked at Hardison in a thoughtful way and then slapped his hands down upon the table top. “I got it,” he said triumphantly. “Parker, we need you back at base. Hardison, you still have some of those mini-cameras we used on the last job?”
“Yeah, why?” Hardison asked.
“Good. Eliot how many veterans?” Nate asked, ignoring Hardison for the moment.
“T-ten,” came Eliot’s cold, affected answer.
“Right, Parker, pick up ten winter coats from the closest thrift-shop and meet back here. Anyone know where Sophie is?” Nate asked, looking around the room.
“I’m in the bar,” Sophie’s voice answered. “Do you need me?”
“Not just yet,” Nate said. He then explained to Hardison and Parker what he wanted them to do.
***
Hardison returned to the dorms in time to do a spot of ‘record and ticket’ fixing for the various girlfriends and groupies of the 206ers. One of the Dustmen came into the common room wanting somebody to play “Call to Duty: Black Ops” against Phi Kappa Gamma.
Hardison stood up slowly and turned towards the shouting Dustman. “HP, you play?” the kid asked Hardison. “I dabble.” Hardison smirked a little.
While Hardison was busy being engaged in digital warfare, Parker was running through the empty hallways of the Psychology department on her way to the cell block. She broke into the cells and covered each veteran with one of the thrift-shop winter jackets. Each jacket had a hidden camera which Nate hoped would capture something they could use to persuade Mr. Conrad that Zilgram wasn’t worth protecting.
The Suit made another attempt to rattle Eliot, this time trying to get him to drink water. Eliot wouldn’t comply which frustrated the Suit. Until one of the undergrads gave him the stun gun with Eliot’s prints. The Suit nodded.
Eliot and ‘vet 4’ had proven less than co-operative and he didn’t like it. The vet 4 was clearly insane, but Eliot was something else and the Suit wanted to know what kind of ‘something’ that was. prt 3