"Inquisitio Veritatis- to seek the truth" chapter 11 - part one

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Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,
Chapter 10

Though it was against Doctor Richard’s wishes, Napoleon insisted upon being brought to the mystery woman’s interrogation.

He wasn’t going to let Illya have all the fun.

The subject was placed in one of the interrogation rooms located deep within the bowels of headquarters and there she was left to stew in her own juices.

Leaving a prisoner alone, letting the time pass slowly helped to build a sense of foreboding in most.

It was easy enough to observe them as they were handcuffed to the interrogation table. First they’d start to fidget in their chair, which was deliberately made uncomfortable. Then the perspiration would begin to show, just a tiny bit on the upper lip was enough of a tell that gave away the prisoner’s nervousness.

Though the U.N.C.L.E. was an organization devoted to world peace, they could step up to the plate when it came to giving someone the ‘third degree’, that sometimes involved threats, intimidation, coercion, and even physical violence. Illya Kuryakin was particularly good at this, in part due to his Soviet training.

Still he had to show some restraint and couldn’t unleash his viciousness; that was a side of himself that he kept well hidden.  Only Waverly knew of it, and Napoleon as well but only revealed to him in the cold comments that Illya would utter while they were on assignment.

A prime example of that was when Kuryakin, while escaping from a maze with his partner, wished a wolf ‘bon appetite’ when it was devouring its keeper, Emory Partridge’s man Jenkins.*

Like every other room in the building, interrogation was  grey in color, as were the metal tables and chairs in there. The lights were exceedingly bright and the temperature was kept higher than usual in order to help raise the stress level of the occupant.

There was a two-way mirror in one wall, a security camera tucked in one of the corners by the ceiling, with the potential interrogators being able to keep an eye on the prisoner in order to judge when they were ready to begin the questioning.

As the woman woke, the only thing she could hear was the loud ticking of the large clock on one of the walls. It was meant to annoy and put the prisoner on edge as it was the only sound they’d hear, It made the subject anxious as time literally ticked by.

She blinked hard several times as she tried to clear her vision and mentally cursed herself when she realized where she probably was.

Moving her tongue around inside her mouth, she was searching for something.

This subject was different, simply because this simple action, which was of course, anticipated.

The door opened and in Kuryakin came, with his partner who was in front of him seated in a wheelchair.

“Looking for this?” Napoleon said while showing her a little white pill in the palm of his hand.

“Cyanide is not the quick and painless death you may have been led to believe,” Illya said.” It is actually a painful and drawn out way to die. Sadly, it does not always kill and will leave the person disfigured for life, not to mention having permanent health issues. It would have been a pity to see your teeth destroyed and most likely that lovely face of yours, would it not? If you survived, and you probably would have not been able to swallow whole food, and would find it necessary to live on a liquid diet for the rest of your lonely-tortured-life.”

“Now that we have that out of the way,” Napoleon said,”you know who we are, but the question remains, who are you?” Their routine, known as double teaming had now started, it was a little bit of good cop-bad cop to start.

“A patriot,” the blonde said.

“Patriotic to whom?” He asked.

“The United States of course. You Solo, you’re a traitor working with this,” she nodded her head in the direction of Kuryakin. “Your organization gives away important intelligence to him and his kind and makes this country even more vulnerable to an attack by the Soviets.”

“I was wondering how I was going to enter into this conversation,”Illya quipped. “Surely you can not believe we UNCLE agents are working against this country or any other member nation for that matter?”

“I work for the government of the United States of America and the people of this country and no one else matters, especially you, you Commie bastard.”

“Now now,” Napoleon intervened,” no need for name calling. Why don’t you tell us what branch of the government you’re working for and perhaps we can be made to see the error of our ways in amicable discussion with them. We can straighten everything out for you, even forgive you for trying to kill us. I’m sure it was nothing personal really, you were just doing your job.”

“They said you had a silver tongue,” she laughed, and they weren’t kidding.”

“Who are they?” Illya demanded.

“Go to hell!”

Illya moved at lightning speed and was in her face within a split second.  He stared at her threateningly with those icy blue eyes of his.

“This could become quite painful for you if you do not tell us what we want.” He buried a fist in the palm of his other hand, telegraphing to her that he was not incapable of hitting a woman.

“Do your worst!” She sneered.

This sort of questioning and threatening went on for hours, but without success. That was rare for the Russian, especially when Napoleon was joining him in the process.

Illya finally turned to his partner, who shrugged.

“I guess we have no choice,” Napoleon said.

Kuryakin looked at the two way mirror, nodding his head and giving a wave of his hand for someone to join them in the interrogation room.

Doctor Greene from Medical, wearing his white coat with a stethoscope draped around his neck, stepped inside. He was pushing a small stainless steel cart on top of which sat a bottle of alcohol, cotton balls, a vial of clear liquid and a syringe and a surgical tourniquet

“This may take a minute to kick in,” he said. 

He wrapped the narrow elastic tourniquet around her arm and tied it, next he filled the syringe with the proper dosage, and after swabbing the woman’s inner arm with alcohol, he located her vein and injected her with truth serum.

He removed the tourniquet, and looked at his wristwatch, counting down as he did so.

Watching until she relaxed and her eyes closed, he checked her pulse and listened to her heart rate. As her head drooped forward, he was satisfied she was ready.

“Go ahead.”