Chapter 56 Interrogation

In the interrogation room, Linda was fidgeting like crazy, her eyes darting around before she started picking at her freshly done nails. She'd just gotten them done two days ago, and now they were already a mess. Her brain was a total mess, too—she couldn't sit still, couldn't think straight.

She had no clue how long she'd been stuck in there. They'd taken her phone and bag, and no one had come in to ask her anything. She felt like she'd been dumped and forgotten. Being alone in a tiny room with no sense of time was bad enough, let alone it was an interrogation room.

George peeked through the tiny window above the door, watching Abigail squirm and freak out. He then checked the other two rooms, where the receptionist and the training class owner were also losing it.
None of them were pros at this—they were all on the edge after just two hours of being cooped up.

That meant they probably didn't know much.
George hesitated for a couple of seconds, then headed back to Linda's room. She'd been the closest to Ellie, so she was his best shot.

The door creaked open, and Linda, already wound up tight, jumped like she'd been shocked.
She locked eyes on the slowly creaking iron door and saw George standing there, holding a laptop. Her heart skipped a beat—she knew that laptop. It was the one she'd bought for Isaac.

Even though she was sitting, her knees felt like jelly.
George's face was a blank slate as he glanced at the vice-captain, grabbed a file bag from him, and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.
That one look from George made her throat tighten and her scalp prickle.
She dropped her gaze to her hands, realizing she'd almost completely picked off her fresh manicure without even noticing.

George strolled over to the long table across from her, plopped the notebook and file bag down, and pulled out a wooden chair to sit.

"Wanna spill it yourself, or should I start asking?" His voice was calm, too calm.

Linda's fingers dug into her palms, her throat felt like it was closing up, and she couldn't bring herself to look up. "Wha-what do you want me to say?"

"Explain why you know who I am, how much you know about our department, who tipped you off, who Isaac's buddies are, and who's backing you. You've been keeping tabs on me, so start talking—why?"
After a beat of silence, Linda decided to play dumb, hoping it might give her a way out. "I have no idea what you're talking about with departments and backers. Yeah, I messed up looking for the key card, and I know it was wrong. Can't I just take the punishment? And I want a lawyer!"

Her voice was shaky, almost breaking into tears. She wasn't faking it—she was genuinely terrified. But before she could finish, George let out a chuckle.

"Linda, didn't your handler tell you our department has some... special powers?" he said.

Her heart skipped a beat, her tearful look frozen in place.

"Especially your little stunt trying to dig up info on us. That could be a national security issue. For folks like you, there's no lawyer, no set detention period. Basically, if you don't spill, you could be here forever."

This... this was nothing like what Assistant Lee had told her!

Seeing her shocked expression, George smirked. "Judging by your face, it looks like your backer didn't fill you in on our special powers," he said.
George picked up a file bag, opened it, and pulled out Abigail's phone. "Deleting the call logs won't help you. We can trace them easily. Your second-to-last call was to Isaac, and the last one lasted nearly six minutes. Didn't the other person tell you to run like Isaac?"

That hit Linda like a ton of bricks, shattering her already fragile mental state. "I... I don't know! I really don't know anything! I just took money to do stuff! All I know is you work in some secret department, and they wanted me to get close to your wife to dig up info. I swear, I don't know anything else!"

George stayed quiet, pulling out a cigarette and lighter from his chest pocket. He lit up and watched Linda as she babbled on. After smoking half of it, her hysterical rambling started to die down, and she broke down in tears.

George took a long drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "I'll ask you one more time. Do you want to come clean, or should I start asking?"

She sobbed, couldn't say a complete sentence. "I... you ask... I don't know...where to start.."

George's eyes darkened as he straightened up. The first question wasn't about who was behind them, but he asked, "Who exactly is Isaac?"