Exposed, page 5
“You think I don’t know that? Listen, I will not be involved in something like that again. Write me up. Lock me up. Fire me. Do whatever you want, but I will not do that ever again. For anything.”
Diana slammed her fist against the table. Peter started in surprise. She rarely had violent outbursts. What the hell was going on? What had Diana been involved in? Some dodgy practices were acceptable out here in the desert, but they were kept hush-hush and he’d never have thought Diana would be party to them.
“Come on, you can do it, Diana. I know you. I’ve seen what you can do. You are my best agent. You’re smart, impressive. No one holds a candle to you.” Lennox wasn’t giving up.
“No, Lennox. I’ve already said.
Lennox paced the room and turned to look at her mulish face. “Diana, this isn’t like you. I thought you were better than this.” Now he was trying to guilt her.
“It’s because I am better than this that I’m refusing to go along with your plan.” She knew she was treading a fine line.
Dealing with a charge of insubordination would be a pain in the ass, but she also had Lennox over a barrel. He needed her more than she needed him at this point. And what he was proposing wasn’t official.
“You can say what you like, Lennox, but I am not going down that road again. We do it my way or not at all.” Diana faced off with Lennox who was glaring at her. “Well? Are you going to order me?” Diana challenged him.
“You know I won’t authorize it,” Lennox said softly.
“I see, so I’m supposed to do it as a favor, am I? I’m supposed to carry out your dirty work while you hold your hands up and deny all knowledge of it if we get found out. Thanks very much, Lennox! I’ll get whatever intel we can to the best of my ability with the time and resources we have. But my rules, my decisions. That’s the deal I’m offering, take it or leave it.”
Lennox knew he was defeated. He sighed and then nodded. “Alright. What do you need?”
“Scopolamine,” Diana replied.
“You sure?”
“It’s the quickest way. Scopolamine will get us the intel we need and give us the chance to evaluate Firat as a possible asset for the future. He’ll show us his true face, his feelings, motives, personality. I can evaluate his suitability as a double agent then, but the job of flipping him needs to be done by someone else, if I consider it a worthwhile proposition.”
Peter intervened. “Look, Lennox, Diana’s right. She’s the expert, and this isn’t the time. Let’s get the intel we all need, and once we have it, you can make your decision about Firat. Using scopolamine means you get a second bite of the cherry if you need it. He won’t remember a thing.”
Lennox stared at them, holding his breath, his lips pressed into a grimace. He let out a long sigh.
“Okay, do it your way. But if you don’t get the info we need, we will all be deep in the brown stuff.”
Diana picked up her bag.
Wearily, Lennox continued, “I’ve set aside two rooms for you here overnight. Everything you need for tomorrow will be delivered to you, including your covers. You’ll play the part of a rich married couple looking for a good time. What you do from there, I really don’t care as long as you get what we need. Come back here in an hour for a more formal briefing from my Chief Intelligence Officer.”
Diana and Peter both nodded. “I’ll organize transport to your quarters,” Lennox said. He sharply left the room.
Diana stood and walked over to the screen. Peter could see she was shaken. She was miles away, caught up in her thoughts. He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She flinched.
“It’s just me,” he whispered.
She nodded but didn’t say a word.
The door opened and closed. “There’s a corporal outside who will take you to your quarters,” Lennox said, coming back in the room, cooler now.
She stepped away from Peter and turned around and regarded Lennox squarely in the face. He returned her gaze without blinking. “I expected more from you,” she said simply.
“Diana, if I felt I had another choice, I’d take it.”
Diana looked at him for another long moment, disappointment etched onto her features.
“Let’s go, Peter,” she said.
CHAPTER TEN
DIANA AND PETER found the corporal outside the conference room and followed him up onto the main platform above the banks of computers. After a lengthy stroll through the cavernous space, they boarded a small monorail car. Peter had hoped to see more as they travelled through the underground complex, but it was expertly designed so that nothing could be seen from the tracks. They proceeded through enclosed, blank, concrete tunnels, access to which was obtained via secured and heavily vaulted doors. There was no view to see, and ten minutes later, as they disembarked, he felt utterly disoriented.
As they let themselves into their rooms, Peter opened his mouth to say something, but the haunted look on Diana’s face stopped him short. She hadn’t said a single word since they’d left Lennox’s company. She looked up to allow herself to be scanned by the biometric device outside her room, but went inside and closed the door behind her quietly with her head down.
Peter sighed and looked up. His eye was scanned, and he entered his quarters. He looked around. The room was small and spartan but comfortable enough. At least there was a bed. There was a door to the right. Opening it, he found a small en suite with a shower, just what he needed after their long trip. Maybe he’d have some brilliant insight into what had just happened while he was in it. “Not bad,” he whispered. They must have been given some of the best rooms in the complex.
After his shower, Peter was back in uniform and feeling much better, although no flashes of genius had assailed him while under the steaming jets of water. He checked his phone as he toweled his hair dry. No signal.
He glanced up at the wall that separated his and Diana’s rooms and considered his next move. They needed to discuss their plan of action. And she needed to get whatever was bugging her off her chest. If she didn’t, she might lose focus.
He checked the time. He’d give her another ten minutes. The following day, they’d be headed out to Dubai, and it would be too late.
He lay on the bed, pondering the whole situation. He’d never seen Diana quite so off-kilter or so disillusioned.
Peter had his own skeletons locked away. He didn’t consider them often, but he forced himself to mull them now. They swirled about his head like water pounding a boat in a squally sea, making progress difficult, the journey unpleasant. He glanced at his watch again and pushed himself upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He got to his feet. It was time to check in with Diana.
Diana sat on her bed, staring at the door to her en suite blindly. She’d also taken a shower, not allowing herself to sink into inactivity and depression. She couldn’t afford to. Not now. Not when they had a mission to accomplish. She’d wanted to slap Lennox for putting her in a bind, but she should have expected it. This was TFI, and this was their typical MO. They were famous for getting results anyhow, anyway. But she’d thought, hoped, that Lennox wouldn’t push her. She’d worked closely with him in the past, and he’d always seemed a good guy.
A knock on the door made her jump. She took a deep breath bringing herself back to the present and got to her feet. She opened the door to find Peter standing there, looking at her with concern on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She considered her options quickly. She knew she could brush it off and play tough, like she usually did. But this was Peter. He’d never pull a stunt like Lennox.
She looked at him and made her decision. She shook her head slowly. “No, I’m not,” she whispered.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter asked.
Diana shook her head again. She didn’t want to remember those times, let alone talk about them. “No,” she whispered again.
Peter swallowed hard and took a step back. He was hurt. That was the last thing she wanted. But her memories were too painful and shameful.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. He turned to leave.
“Don’t go,” she said quickly. “Stay. Let’s talk about something else. Please.” She reached out to grab his hand.
“Of course,” he said turning to face her again, his eyes warm.
She stepped back, giving him the space to enter her room and closed the door. She turned to him and her eyes widened. He pretty much filled up the small room.
Peter gave her a searching look. “You okay with what we have to do?” he asked.
She nodded. “I think so.” She paused, her resolve melting. “I’d be more okay if I could come up with a method of flipping Firat that doesn’t employ the techniques Lennox wants me to use,” she said with an awkward laugh. “I can’t believe he asked this of us!”
Peter gave her a curious look.
“What is this ‘this,’ Diana? I think you need to tell me.“
“Let’s sit,” she said. She sank to the bed, and Peter took a beige molded seat facing her. He leaned forward. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She placed her hands between her knees. Peter waited patiently.
“Whatever the problem is, you’re not alone in this. It’s okay,” he whispered to her.
Her eyes opened, and she knew he’d see the tears she was doing her best to hold back. She gave him a wobbly smile. “I know,” she whispered. She drew another deep breath. “I don’t want you to think I’m some neurotic, emotional twit who doesn’t have the capacity to do what’s required.”
Peter barked a laugh. “Diana, neurotic and emotional are not words I would ever associate with you.”
Diana’s shoulders dropped, and she gave him a small, pained smile. “This ‘this’: I really don’t want to talk about it.” She had lifted her heels and was jiggling them rapidly up and down. Peter dropped his chin waiting for her to speak. She looked away at the wall to her left, thinking, before sighing and looking down at the ground.
“When I first started out at CSIS, they wanted to use my people-reading skills with suspected terrorists, people implicated in hate crimes, or those who had made threats or were suspected of having been radicalized. I helped them in the interrogation room, to interpret what was going on. I would sit behind a two-way and talk to the interrogator via a headset. Using my feedback in real time, the interviews could be steered to a successful conclusion much of the time. It worked pretty well. It was only when I got into the field that I realized interrogation tactics weren’t quite as clean as they were at home. Questionable practices were common. Still, I was good enough to get the answers we needed quickly without having to go there. I was proud of what I achieved and how I achieved it.
“That’s when I began to think. We were interrogating all these terrorists, extracting information from them, then imprisoning them, shoving them down a black hole, never to see the light of day again. They’re a wasted resource like that. I thought, what if we were to use them? What if we could turn them? Make them our asset? What if I was able to develop a system to turn them into assets quickly and efficiently? Up to that point, there was no active strategy to develop or exploit them any further. I thought there was a way to get more return on our investment beyond the initial intel.” She paused.
Peter kept quiet, allowing her to set the pace, for which she was grateful. Part of her was ashamed of what she’d done, but a very big part of her was afraid to see the look in Peter’s eyes when he discovered what she’d been a party to, what she’d gone along with. Peter was as straight as a die. It was one of the things she loved about him. He had no “side.”
She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Of course, the higher-ups at CSIS thought it was a brilliant idea. We’d have people on the inside without having to risk our own.
“They told me to come up with a method that anyone could apply, so I did. It involved using various psychological strategies and triggers, including creating dependence and a mild form of capture bonding. We were dealing with fanatics who’d already been brainwashed, so I had to deprogram and then reprogram them again along the lines that would work for our purposes.
“I tested my theory and tweaked the practices until I got positive results 75% of the time. Once it was implemented, though, complaints came in from the field that it was taking too long. And their turn rate wasn’t as good as mine. I was able to modify my strategy as I went along, taking my cues from the subject, adapting on the fly. That was a lot harder for others.”
Peter sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. Diana pressed on.
“So, they demanded I come up with a foolproof method that yielded results quickly. This time, they had me work with a team of psychologists and interrogators, all of whom had field experience, and some who had applied my methods in the field. We worked together to adapt my program.” She let out a big sigh. “Anyway, I was young, and I guess I let them overwhelm me because by the time they were done, my approach was corrupted. They incorporated blatant physical and mental torture practices in order to get results.
“When it rolled out, the results were much better, and my bosses were ecstatic. And this is the thing, I lapped it all up. I had no clue about what they were doing at first, but in time I found out. I was given credit, and I think I was so full of myself and enjoyed being in the spotlight so much that I went along with it. It’s a lot easier to convince yourself that something like that is okay when you don’t actually see it – when it’s just a theoretical concept and you don’t see the action or take part in it.
“It was a while before I saw my program in the flesh. But then I was put in charge of the program in Kosovo. I had to do the dirty work. I never did any of the actual torturing, not the physical part, at least, but I was the one who took advantage of it. I was the ‘good guy’ on the tag team, the kind, empathetic one. The subject would bond to me to the point where they were willing to do anything I asked as long as I didn’t abandon them. And I quickly reconciled myself to it. I was complicit,” she continued. Peter shifted in his seat, his arms still folded.
She didn’t have the courage to look up at him. She didn’t want to see what she feared in his eyes, the recrimination or the disgust. “With every person we turned, I’d lose another little piece of my soul. I kept telling myself it was for the greater good, that we were saving lives. The intel we got was invaluable, and we stopped many attacks. But at the same time, I kept asking myself, where should I draw the line? If I was willing to stoop so low, was I any better than the people we were fighting?
“One day, they put a sixteen-year old boy in front of me who’d been kidnapped as a child and radicalized. He was a runner for a terrorist leader. He was so easy to turn. A few hours with the operative I was partnered with, and the boy cried when I left the room, begging and pleading with me not to leave him.
“That was the final straw. I told them that either they did things my way, or I’d walk. CSIS just figured I was having a breakdown, that I had spent too much time in the field, so they brought me back to Canada and stuck me behind a desk. I was getting ready to turn in my resignation when I transferred to TFI.” Diana paused for a moment as she considered the memory. “When I got here, Lennox had been fully briefed on what I had done, and was, of course, interested in implementing the program, but he was smart. He told me that as long as I got results, he’d let me call the shots. He said he’d never force me to do something I wasn’t willing to do. And I was grateful.“
She closed her mouth with an audible click and looked up. She waited for Peter’s reaction.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE MOMENTS TICKED by, one after the other. Diana looked down again, until she heard Peter let out a long sigh.
“You know, this is war. It’s an ugly, dirty, inhumane business. The decisions are tough, and it’s rare to get results without some kind of collateral damage. Sometimes, we get carried away and forget what we’re fighting for.”
“I know, but still…”
“Listen, I’ve seen people do terrible things in a war zone. Things they would never do in their regular lives. When all our touch points, the people and places that we love and are connected to, are missing, we lose ourselves. We become people that we are not, especially if our environment is corrupted.”
“But there’s no excuse. I know all that and I still went along with it—“
“Diana, you need to stop this. I don’t blame you. I know you’re a good person and that you’d have done things differently if you could. And I can’t tell you how proud I am that you ultimately found the courage to say no. I know how difficult it is to stand up for what you believe is right, especially to an organization in which you are trained to obey.”
“Did you ever compromise yourself?” Diana asked.
Peter held her gaze. “Not exactly.”
“So why did I?” Her words came out as a wail.
“You were young. You were groomed.”
“Yes, but, oh, I don’t know.” She started to cry. She placed both palms over her eyes and started to sob hard, bending over so her face was on her knees.
Peter moved over to sit next to her and took her in his arms, his lips pressed against the top of her head as she cried.
They stayed like that for a long time. Eventually, the tears subsided. Diana looked up. She dared a quick glance at him.
“Do you blame me?”
“No, I don’t blame you.”
He had picked up her hand and with his thumb was thoughtfully rubbing circles into her palm. She’d not known how relaxing and soothing a small gesture like that could be. “You don’t despise me?” she asked in a small voice.
Peter frowned and shook his head. “Of course not. How could I do that? You were doing your best to help and contribute to national and international security. If we can’t get a break, who can?”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He frowned again. “What for?”
