In a white windowless room under a glaring strip light, Kaitlin stared at her two captors across the table. One was a sergeant: buzz cut, blue eyes, solid muscle. She didn’t catch his name. The other was a woman, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, charcoal suit. She didn’t have that military rigidity about her, so Kaitlin assumed she was probably a civilian of some kind. Kaitlin remembered, during the flurry of activity when she was dragged in, that this woman’s name was Marianne.
Her mind was racing ahead, as it always did in times of high stress. What were the possible outcomes for her here? None of them good, that was for sure.
Marianne flicked on a recording device. ‘Interview with Kaitlin Le—’
‘My name’s Sophie Nguyen.’
‘Did you say something, Miss Le?’ the sergeant growled.
‘I’m Sophie Nguyen. I’m here with my fiancé. I’m sorry if we’ve strayed onto … I don’t know what this place is. We were trying to see the Northern Lights. We didn’t realise we were on … What is this place?’
‘What are you doing here?’ The sergeant fixed those cold blue eyes on her.
‘I told you, we were … We were looking for the Northern Lights,’ she stuttered. ‘But everything looks the same here. I guess we got lost and …’
The sergeant tossed the GoPro on the table. Kaitlin stared at it for a moment.
‘I wasn’t filming you guys,’ she began. ‘I was trying to film the landscape, maybe even the aurora. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s pretty picturesque out there.’ She glanced to the door, desperately thinking of ways to gain the upper hand. ‘Where’s my fiancé? Why are you holding us? We just got lost.’
Marianne smiled. ‘Kaitlin, we need to ask you about the man you were with.’
‘My fiancé?’
‘The man you were with,’ the sergeant stressed. ‘Do you know who he is?’
‘You need to be open with us,’ Marianne stressed. ‘We’re giving you a chance to save yourself. You were led into this, right? The fake passport. He persuaded you.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Listen to me, Kaitlin. You’re in big trouble. We’re trying to help you.’
‘Help me?’
‘Do you know what happens to spies?’ Marianne said in a calm voice that disguised the menace in the statement.
Kaitlin felt a rush of cold. They were threatening to go in hard: jail time, years of it, disgrace, the devastation of her parents. Were they really that scared of what she was doing? She jumped to her feet. ‘I want a lawyer.’
‘Sit down, please,’ the sergeant said.
‘Is there a lawyer here?’
The sergeant’s eyes blazed and he roared, ‘I said, sit down.’
Kaitlin slumped back to her seat, but she wasn’t going to be cowed.
‘I want a lawyer. Before I utter another word.’
Marianne smiled again. That was getting as menacing as the sergeant’s toxic masculinity.
‘We’re not on US soil,’ she said. ‘You don’t have any rights here.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Tell us about the man you were with. You might as well. You’ve come to the end of it all now. There’s nowhere to hide here, no one you can hide behind.’
‘I don’t know what to say. He’s British. He works for—’
‘The British Government? MI6?’
Kaitlin feigned a frown. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Did you know he’s a Russian agent?’
Kaitlin stared. Shit, Thomas. What have you gotten us into?
‘The British authorities have been looking for him ever since he disappeared. He’s a spy. And this is a US base,’ Marianne continued.
‘What kind of base?’
‘Just your regular satellite communications and intelligence base. We have bases like this all over the world. Nothing unusual about it being here.’
‘Then am I free to go?’
The sergeant hammered the flat of his hand on the table. ‘No, you are not free to go. You were in the company of a Russian agent.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’ Kaitlin heaved a deep breath. ‘OK, maybe travelling on a false passport, I admit, that wasn’t … But, look, I don’t have anything to hide. I’m just trying to find the truth about Flight 702. Is that a crime?
‘My brother was on that plane. I’ve given up everything. My studies, my family. All to find out what happened. I’ve followed every lead. I’ve done everything humanly possible to get to the bottom of what happened and I’ve ended up here.’ She looked from the sergeant to Marianne. ‘Is my brother … ? Is Conor here?’
‘Flight 702 crashed into the sea, Kaitlin,’ Marianne said.
‘I know that’s what’s been said. But there was a crash near here. I have proof. There are witnesses, satellite images. It happened at exactly the same time Flight 702 went missing. Were there any survivors? Is Conor here?’
Marianne shook her head with a note of sadness.
‘I’m sorry. You’ve been wasting your time. We don’t know anything about what you’re saying.’
They weren’t going to give anything away. Did she expect any less?
‘Where’s Thomas? Can I see him?’
‘He’s not here. He’s been handed back to the British government,’ the sergeant said.
‘What’s going to happen to me?’
‘You’ll be repatriated and processed back to the US.’
‘Processed?’
The sergeant stood up. ‘OK. Time to go.’
Kaitlin felt her stomach knot. ‘Where?’
‘You’ll be kept in custody until we can arrange transport.’ He swung open the door and called for the guards.
As he walked out into the corridor, Marianne leaned across the table and whispered, ‘Don’t eat the food.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t eat the—’
Marianne clamped her mouth shut when the sergeant stepped back in. She stood up and walked away as if nothing had happened.
The sergeant flexed his fingers for Kaitlin to stand. ‘You can go with the officers here.’
Kaitlin watched Marianne vanish through the door, but her mind was racing once again: what had just happened?
After what seemed like an age in a holding cell, more guards came and escorted Kaitlin to another room, this one painted in yellow. A couch sat against one wall and a chair next to it. A large mirror occupied the wall opposite the couch. A balding man with glasses smiled at her as she entered. He introduced himself as Dr Hallin from the Army Research Laboratory, a military psychologist.
He swept a hand towards the couch and Kaitlin sat. She felt her body clench as she tried to guess what was coming next.
‘I have a few questions for you,’ Hallin began. He was softly-spoken, kindly at first glance, although she couldn’t tell if that was a front. ‘General ones – at first, anyway. Some names, dates, who your contacts are here, who brought you to the base. You didn’t find your own way here.’
‘Where are the people who interviewed me before? The sergeant, and the woman – Marianne? I told them everything.’
‘I’m sure you did. I’m here to assist them in their inquiries. Marianne – Dr Hawkins – in fact used to be a student of mine. She has an extremely perceptive mind. Razor-sharp focus. Very good at her job.’
‘So, where is she?’
‘Behind the glass, assisting me with this process.’
‘I don’t know what all this is about. I’ve been sitting in a cell for God knows how long and no one is telling me anything.’
‘You want some answers, right? I understand how you’re feeling.’ Hallin picked up his iPad and turned his back on Kaitlin as he scrolled through it. ‘Did they give you anything to eat?’ he asked.
The comment sounded disinterested, but after Marianne’s warning, she knew better. ‘Yes,’ she said. They’d brought her food, but she’d scraped it into the toilet and flushed it away.
‘Want to go home?’ Hallin asked, turning back to her.
‘Yes … No, I want my brother.’
‘Isn’t your brother dead?’
‘No. I spoke to him.’
‘You spoke to him? How can that be? He was on Flight 702.’
Kaitlin clamped her mouth shut. She was sick of this charade.
‘Kaitlin, if you’re having trouble remembering, we have aids that can help,’ Hallin said with a gentle smile.
‘What do you mean, aids?’
Hallin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘Years ago, when I was a student, I was involved in a study by Harvard Medical. In those days, they used to pay students to take part in these kinds of experiments. I don’t know if they still do now. I was young, fit, poor. Taking part in a medical programme seemed like … well, easy money.’
Kaitlin nodded. Why was he telling her this? She didn’t trust any of them.
‘The experiment was about shock treatment. They wanted to see what the mind would do when the subject was shown various patterns of complex words that led to a specific keyword, like, say “truth”. Each time they ran a series of words, you were sitting alone in a dark room. And each time the word “truth” came up, they put a sound through your head. A very loud, sharp sound. Did I mention you’d be wearing headphones and your hands would be secured to the table in front of you with cable ties, so you couldn’t remove the headphones?’
‘That sounds like torture.’
Hallin shrugged. ‘A loud sound would come. Very loud. Jarring. I can tell you, Kaitlin, it was every bit as painful as shock treatment. But it worked. As the pattern of the words moved towards the keyword, my heart rate would go up, I’d start to sweat, I’d feel a growing sense of panic.
‘And after they’d gone through the pattern a few times, they didn’t have to put a sound through your head every time that word, or word pattern of words, came up. Just seeing the word, after a while, caused your heart rate to increase, your sweat glands, your entire body to respond. And soon, you’d tell them whatever it was they wanted to know.’
Brainwashing. That’s what he was talking about.
‘All they’d have to do is show you the word pattern. You see, your body learns to be obedient and it teaches your mind to be obedient.’
Kaitlin stifled a shudder. Just like Marianne, the calmness of his voice was terrifying.
‘I don’t know anything.’
‘I think, Kaitlin, such a process might help you to remember.’
‘No!’ Her voice cracked.
Hallin beckoned to a guard watching through the glass in the door. Kaitlin jerked round as the guard marched in and grabbed her by the wrists. Crying, she wrenched away, but the grip was too hard.
‘Leave me alone,’ she yelled.
‘Kaitlin, this doesn’t work if you have the ability to take the headphones off,’ Hallin said. ‘You need to be restrained.’
‘I’m not going to do this!’
‘You really don’t have a choice.’
The guard pinned her arms behind her back. Barbs of fire lanced into her joints.
Hallin hovered over her. ‘Just relax. Breathe. You’re going to need all your strength.’
The guard pushed her forwards, then snapped cable ties around her wrists.
‘Try to calm yourself,’ Hallin said. ‘When the procedure is over, the restraints will be removed.’
Gritting her teeth, Kaitlin sagged, letting her arms go slack. She wasn’t strong enough. She’d only hurt herself by struggling.
Hallin snatched up a pair of headphones and slipped them over Kaitlin’s ears. ‘How’s that? Comfortable?’ he asked as if she were preparing to relax. He nodded to the guard, who walked out and closed the door.
Hallin pulled up his chair and sat in front of her. ‘I want you to be open and honest with me. We have the time. And everything will be fine – you can go back home, see your parents and all will be good. OK?’
Kaitlin screwed her eyes shut, listening to the thump of blood in her head.
‘Let’s begin,’ he murmured before calling out, ‘Dr Hawkins, are you ready?’
Kaitlin snapped open her eyes as she heard Marianne’s voice both on an intercom and in the headphones: ‘Ready, Doctor.’
Hallin loomed over her. ‘We need to know, Kaitlin, why you think Flight 702 didn’t come down in the Atlantic. We need to know everything about that. All the things you haven’t shared. All the things you’ve kept to yourself. Everything. Doesn’t matter how crazy any of them are. Even the things you’ve allowed yourself to forget. We want to help remind you. This is what all this is about, Kaitlin.’
Kaitlin stared at him, sensing the mesmeric beat he’d placed on his speech.
‘We’re going to ease into this with a few simple words,’ he continued. ‘It’ll go on for a minute or two, so close your eyes and relax.’ He waved a hand towards the glass.
A calm, robotic voice droned through the headphones. ‘Desert … Tortoise … Mother … Home … America … Friends … Thomas … White … Matchmaker … Rabbit … White …’
Kaitlin screwed up her eyes again, trying not to listen, but the words slipped in like stiletto blades.
Then, like a jolt of electricity, Marianne’s voice cut in. ‘Kaitlin, I’ve got about forty-five seconds to talk. Hallin can’t hear me. I’m taking a huge risk to help you. Don’t answer, grit your teeth, keep your eyes shut and listen to me. I hope you didn’t eat anything.’
‘Relax,’ Hallin’s voice intruded. ‘Let the words soak over you.’
‘Jungle … Disease … Religion …’
‘We’re in very grave danger,’ Marianne continued in her head. ‘All of us – you, me, Conor, the other survivors.’
Kaitlin felt a rush of elation that almost made her cry out loud.
Conor was alive!
‘Say you’re feeling sick. Pretend to be drowsy. Do it,’ Marianne urged.
Kaitlin snapped her eyes open and stared deep into Hallin’s face. ‘I feel sick. I really need to sleep.’
He smiled back. ‘Oh dear, dear, dear. You’ll feel better in a moment. This is when it starts to work.’
‘Terror … Virus … Biology … Iran.’
A buzzing was running behind the words, growing louder with each few beats, Kaitlin noticed.
‘Agent … Survivors … Truth …’
‘Stay focused,’ Marianne pleaded, deep in her skull. ‘Try. After the session, you’ll be taken back to a holding cell. They’ll expect you to sleep for twelve hours because of the drugs. I’ll come and get you. Trust me.’
Trust her?
Trust no one.
Trust …
The buzzing whirled up until her whole head was throbbing and she could no longer hear the words.
Kaitlin screamed.