Even nearing the end of spring, early mornings had a tendency to be crisp in the nation's capital. Agent Sarah Evans inhaled the toxin and checked the time. Always early and she rarely smoked. She dropped her fifth cigarette of the hour, popped a few Tic Tacs and pushed off the government car. Time to interrogate Anthony Lazarau.
She straightened her business jacket and made her way across the carpark and into the government's prisoner holding facility. Her NSIS credentials allowed for quick access. The same credentials couldn't save her the wait for a security escort though. She used the short period to review her plan.
For the last three months, Lazarau had stuck to his cover story despite intense questioning by the Australian Federal Police. Although there was enough evidence to secure an espionage conviction, there wasn't any explanation for the missing copies of the other ninety-eight Top Secret documents. Recent cases involving espionage had drawn criticism from Australia's allies. NSIS had a standing agreement on espionage cases, with the Australian Federal Police conducting the initial investigations. NSIS would provide the link between the Federal Police and concerned allied partners. They would also conduct detailed analysis of the information obtained and reassure intelligence partners that their secrets were safe. Such was the delicate nature of the intelligence alliance between Australia, Britain, Canada and America that the head of the NSIS was held directly accountable by the Prime Minister for the quick resolution of espionage cases. The Lazarau case had dragged on for too long and pressure was building for an outcome and the retrieval of all missing documents.
A large, frowning man arrived to escort Sarah to Lazarau's holding cell. He checked the paperwork and adjusted his belt. No 'good morning', no 'how are you today?', no welcoming smile. Sarah guessed that, at his age, he was well on his way to the countdown to retirement. He smelled of coffee and his grey moustache was stained by cigarettes. He nodded to Sarah, an indication for her to follow. She fell in behind him and reckoned he would be in a wheelchair within ten years by the way his buckled knees shuffled along. If he lived that long.
They made their way through three security grilles and stopped in what appeared to be an isolated section of the facility. The guard unlocked a cell and stepped aside as she entered. He didn't offer to stay in the cell with her, as the prisoner was deemed a non-violent offender. Sarah figured the guard would be more of a hindrance anyway if something occurred.
Lazarau sat up on his bunk. 'Well, hello there, lovely lady.' He patted the bunk. 'I've been expecting a sponge bath.'
She tucked a few strands of blonde hair behind an ear, folded her skirt under her legs and sat on the plastic chair on the other side of the cell. She deliberately took her time withdrawing a small notepad and pen from her jacket, allowing Lazarau to take in the aroma of an excessive application of perfume, a ploy she used often. 'I find it unusual that a man who claims to have been blackmailed because he was photographed having sex with another man would like to be bathed by a woman.'
Lazarau sat on the edge of the bed in his pale-green long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. Thongs topped off the ensemble. He ran his tongue across his lips and stroked his goatee beard. 'Perhaps you don't know that I bat for both sides, pretty lady.'
'I'm sure you have been batting quite a lot since your arrest, Mr Lazarau.'
'Touché, Ms ...?'
She ignored the probing question. 'You need to realise that, to date, you have not been very cooperative with your responses to the various persons who have questioned you.'
'I beg to differ,' Lazarau said. 'I have been more than cooperative with the various agencies that have questioned me. So which agency do you belong to?'
Sarah tapped the pen on the notepad, again ignoring the question. She didn't want to allow Lazarau any power.
'I have all the necessary security clearances,' he said. 'Feel free to share with me all the information you have to date.' He leered at her.
Lazarau was being a smart-arse, trying to gain the upper hand. His ego couldn't stop him talking. It was obvious he preferred women by the overt softening of his eyes and attempted flirting. His cover story wouldn't last long. 'Like the information you attempted to share with our Singaporean friends?'
He sat back on the bed. 'You make it sound as if I've betrayed my country, when in fact I was being blackmailed. And besides, the embassy reported it to the appropriate authorities, didn't they?'
'What makes you say that?'
'Well, they certainly didn't buy the documents. As soon as I left I was arrested and brought here.'
'Now we're getting somewhere.' She smiled and his smirk disappeared. 'Let's talk more about your attempt to sell national secrets, shall we?'
'No . . . no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. What I meant to say is that I went to meet this business woman who was . . .'
'So now you're saying that you went to meet a business woman. You previously stated that you went to try to find out who she was because she was trying to blackmail you.'
Lazarau shifted on his bunk and stroked his goatee. 'Now you are putting words into my mouth. I didn't say that at all.'
Sarah leaned forward. Her smile disappeared and she raised her hand for the prisoner's silence. 'Enough lies. From what you've just admitted, you're going away for a very long time. The next time you see me I'll be sitting across from you in a court of law repeating your confession to espionage.'
Lazarau dropped his shoulders and lowered his head.
She was surprised how easy it was. Most men, she knew, were susceptible to questioning by a woman. She leaned back and crossed her legs. 'I will now allow you precisely one minute to collect your thoughts. At the end of the minute, you will provide truthful responses to my questions. And I warn you, Mr Lazarau, that I will not be happy if you provide me with another flimsy cover story.'
He didn't wait the minute. 'What deal are you offering, lady?'
'You're in no position to ask me that, Mr Lazarau. You're in jail. Next week you'll be found guilty of espionage. Now you need to tell me the truth in order to make the punishment a little more bearable. Do you understand me?'
He crossed his arms. 'Listen, lady, I know that our American, British and Canadian friends will be sweating on what I know. So you better start talking about a deal.'
She leaned forward again. 'Now you listen to me. If you don't start talking I will put all my energy into having you share the same cell as some of Australia's worst sodomites.'
Lazarau shook his head. 'All right, you nasty bitch. What do you want to know?'
She thought the submission had come too easily. 'I'll have the truth, to start with, or someone may be calling you "bitch" real soon.'
Lazarau pushed his back against the concrete wall. He brought his legs to his chest and started picking at a toenail. 'The name you are looking for is Jay Ryan. A sergeant in the Australian Army Intelligence Corps. I first met him a couple of years ago during my initial analyst training. He forced me to copy the Top Secret documents. This is all you get. I suggest you talk to him for what you need. This conversation is over.'
She knew the name. 'I haven't finished yet, Mr Lazarau. If he is Army Intelligence and you're a civilian working for the Defence Intelligence Organisation, why would you have anything to do with him?'
'I said this conversation is over, Miss Evans. Please leave.'
Sarah hid her surprise. Not the revelation about Jay Ryan, rather that Lazarau knew her name. She stood and left the cell without another word. On her way out, she checked where she had signed in. It read Sarah Jacobson – Australian Federal Police. She was flabbergasted. Even her ex-boyfriend hadn't known her real name or occupation. As far as she knew, only the Director of NSIS knew of her current assignment. He had assigned the case to her personally and told her to keep it under wraps.
The interrogation had resulted in more questions than answers. She stopped at the Agency car and turned against the cool Canberra breeze to light another cigarette. It didn't make sense. The name Lazarau had given belonged to arguably the nation's best interrogator. Not only was Jay Ryan the best in the Australian army, his services and expertise were highly sought after amongst other government agencies, including her own.
Sarah should know; she had first-hand experience of Jay Ryan's interrogation skills.