The Dying Game

by Asa Avdic

  “I apologize, Colonel.”

  The lead interrogator looked chagrined.

  “I accept your apology,” the colonel said, but he didn’t appear to mean it.

  The lead interrogator nudged the second interrogator in the side as if to signal that she should take over, but she remained silent. It wasn’t time yet. So he went on.

  “You say that you’d heard the ‘same old story’ about Anna Francis. Had you heard anything that could not be described as the ‘same old story’?”

  “Well, that would be the bit about . . .” He was hesitant.

  “Go on.”

  “I suppose that would be the bit about the boy.”

  “The bit about the boy?”

  “That she had shot that boy. That that’s what broke her.”

  “Can you expand on that?”

  The colonel gave a deep sigh as if he were utterly tired of them and their clumsy tactics.

  “No, as a matter of fact I can’t, and given that I’m sure you know more than I do about these incidents, I find it absolutely unnecessary for me to sit here and speculate.”

  The lead interrogator cast a glance down at his papers, but in reality he was looking at her hands. She was making a little circle sign with her index finger, as if to tell him he should continue. They had their little signals. A slight lift of the index finger meant my turn; pointed forward it meant Keep inquiring about this. Now it was time to move on, to avoid getting him worked up in vain. Besides, they’d gotten what they wanted here.

  “Okay. We’ll leave it at that. You say that you suspected from the start that she was the candidate they were interested in. Did that change?”

  “It changed when she disappeared, of course. Or died. Or however I should put it.”

  “You were convinced that she was dead when it happened?”

  “Yes, I was with the doctor . . . Katja, who found her. Did you drug me? I assume you did.”

  He lifted his gaze from the tabletop and allowed his red-rimmed eyes to move between the two of them. She moved her index finger back and forth: Don’t answer.

  “I apologize, Colonel, I don’t have the authority to release any details about the operation.”

  The colonel chuckled, a laugh devoid of pleasure.

  “Of course you drugged me. I suppose Anna herself did it. During dinner, I presume? Well done; I didn’t notice a thing. You certainly selected a suitable candidate. Smart of you to let me see her dead body as well. I definitely would have become suspicious otherwise.”

  “Had you met Anna Francis before you encountered her on Isola?”

  “No, and I’m sure you were already aware of that fact too. That was the first time I had met her.”

  “What was your impression of her?”

  The colonel leaned back a shade and didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did answer, he appeared to be choosing his words carefully.

  “She seemed tense. It was obvious that she had been living under extreme pressure. Even if I hadn’t known anything about her, I would have suspected that she had experienced war; she had that look around the eyes that people get.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s hard to put my finger on it. But it does something to you. I could see that she was watchful. She never turned her back to the room; she never left herself open to attack. I’m the same way, so I recognize the behavior. You get that way once you’ve had to watch your own back in earnest.”

  “Would you describe her as stable?”

  “Yes, I think so. She wasn’t nuts, or neurotic, if that’s what you mean. She gave the impression of being levelheaded and in control. But she was on guard.”

  “How would you describe her relationship with Henry Fall?”

  “I couldn’t quite make sense of it. On the one hand, they acted as if they didn’t know each other; on the other hand, I had the impression that they actually did. It seemed as if she were extra vigilant toward him, and for that matter he was vigilant toward her too. When she disappeared, my theory was that he might be the candidate. That would have explained her vigilance. But then it occurred to me that there could have been another reason for it.”

  “What might that have been?”

  The colonel looked amused and once again let his gaze move from him to her and back to him again.

  “Surely not even someone like you could be so ruined by power games and tactics that you can’t think of a reason for a man and a woman to pay extra attention to each other.”

  “Oh, that’s what you mean. I see,” said the lead interrogator.

  The colonel responded to him but looked at her, an amused glint in his eyes:

  “Are you totally sure of that?”

  “I’m sorry?” The lead interrogator sounded offended.

  She was thinking that she would soon have to take over, since the colonel was on the verge of gaining an advantage. He was guiding this interrogation now. When he entered the room, she’d found it difficult to match this broken man across from them with the efficient one she had read about in the reports from Isola, but now she was beginning to see a hint of him.

  The lead interrogator tried a fresh start.

  “Did you ever suspect that she wasn’t dead?”

  “Not at first, but when Katerina Ivanovitch disappeared too, of course I started to wonder. It was really too good to be true.”

  “Too good?”

  “You know what I mean. People don’t just start vanishing left and right when it comes to this sort of exercise. I’ve been around long enough to know that.”

  The lead interrogator paged through his documents.

  “Let’s go back to the moment when Anna Francis disappeared. How did the others react?”

  “With alarm, I would say.”

  “Was there any reaction that stood out in particular?”

  “Well, Fall certainly seemed extremely shaken.”

  “Would you say that anyone was overly shaken?”

  The colonel seemed to understand what he was getting at.

  “If you’re wondering if one of the others became suspicious then and there, the answer is no. He was very clever about it. And that love story was a good cover, of course. Was it planned?”

  “Unfortunately I am unable . . .”

  The colonel gave an audible sigh.

  “You can’t give any details, yes, I know. It was a smart idea, in any case, whoever it was that thought of it.”

  Now it was her turn. She wanted to change the subject, preferably without arousing the colonel’s suspicions.

  “Let’s move on. What happened then?”

  “We decided to search the island.”

  “Who took the initiative in doing so?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  She leaned back and continued to watch him. Tried to keep her tone mild.

  “Others we spoke to say that you took the initiative.”

  “That could be. But it could have been anyone; it was the natural thing to do.”

  She went on:

  “I would like to jump forward in time. Now I want to hear about what happened when you received instructions from Henry Fall that you were to disappear.”

  The colonel grew silent for a moment and appeared to be searching his memory. For the first time, his answer was hesitant.

  “It started when someone called out that the pier had come loose, and in hindsight I guess I have to assume Henry Fall loosened it when he was part of the group that was searching around the boathouse area.”

  “So what did you do then?”

  “We ran down to the bottom of the cliff and put in the boat. Fall made sure that he and I were the only ones who went out. Von Post wanted to come along, as I recall, but Fall said no.”

  “So the two of you went out
in the boat . . .”

  “And that was where I received my instructions.”

  “What were they?”

  “He informed me that the operation was all about Anna Francis, just as I had suspected earlier. That she wasn’t dead but thought she was the one observing us, and that the stress test involved all of us disappearing one after the next. They were planning to reassure themselves that she could handle the pressure and continue to obey orders. To put it simply, that she wouldn’t break down.”

  “What sort of technical instructions did you receive?”

  “I was supposed to place the oxygen regulator in my mouth, overturn the boat, and wait underneath it, and once the others went back up to the house I would flip the boat again, drive it around the island, and join Katerina Ivanovitch at the gathering place on the other side.”

  She searched through her papers, found a map of the island, and placed it in the middle of the table.

  “Can you show me how you got around?”

  The colonel bent over the table and studied the map, showing with one finger how he had made his way halfway around the island and landed at a very small, narrow inlet off the northeastern corner of the house, a point that could hardly have been visible from the house since it was directly under the gable. To get there by land, one had to go through the thick brambles on the steep rise.

  “I walked up here, and here’s where I got in.”

  “You mean into the underground shelter?”

  “Yes, on the back side of the island, under the house.”

  “Was it difficult to get to the gathering place without being spotted?”

  “No, it wasn’t a problem. Everyone else was busy in the house, and Katja was already in the shelter, of course.”

  “What about the boat? Wasn’t there a risk that someone would notice it eventually?”

  The colonel looked tired.

  “As you may recall, it was inflatable. I deflated it and brought it in with me.”

  “So I should interpret this to mean that as long as you were actively taking part in it, the operation functioned smoothly.”

  “Yes, I would say so. Inhumane though it was.”

  The lead interrogator broke in again. She cast an irritated glance at him. This was not how they had planned the interrogation. She didn’t appreciate his deviating from the protocol.

  “What impression did you get from the others when they joined you? Did it still seem to be functioning smoothly?”

  “I got that impression, yes.”

  “No one mentioned any uncertainties regarding Henry Fall’s actions?”

  “What kind of uncertainties do you mean?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “It’s hard to respond when I don’t understand the question.”

  Now they were both leaning over the table.

  The lead investigator pressed on: “Was there any reason to believe that Fall was losing control of the operation?”

  She wanted to stop him. She tried to signal him with her finger, tell him not to go any further, but it was too late.

  “I don’t understand what you’re trying to get at. Why don’t you ask Fall directly?”

  The lead interrogator realized too late that he had guided the conversation down the wrong path. He leaned back and tried to adopt a dismissive expression.

  “Unfortunately I am barred from . . .”

  The colonel looked increasingly puzzled.

  “Did something happen? Did something go wrong?”

  “Colonel . . .”

  “Did something happen to Anna? Is she dead?”

  “Anna Francis is alive, Colonel.”

  She kicked the lead interrogator hard under the table. She needed to intervene, but she didn’t quite know how. The colonel was bent over the table, and by now it was more like he was interrogating the lead interrogator.

  “So the problem is with Fall. What happened? Did he reveal his role?”

  The lead interrogator threw up his hands in desperation.

  “I’m sorry, but I am unable to . . .”

  The colonel stood up and leaned across the table. His face was close to the lead interrogator; he was almost shouting.

  “Answer me now, or I will ask him myself!”

  “Unfortunately, I must inform you that that would be impossible. Henry Fall is dead.”

  The colonel just stared at him. The second interrogator had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

  “Dead? What the hell . . .”

  “I apologize, Colonel, I thought you knew,” she said quietly, although she knew that wasn’t true. That it would have been preferable if he never found out, had it been possible to avoid telling him. The colonel looked from one to the other, his eyes wild.

  “For God’s sake. Oh, God . . . what have you done?”

  She bent toward the tape recorder and said curtly:

  “Interrogation concluded 12:36.”

  She turned it off. The colonel grabbed his jacket, which he had hung on the back of his chair. She could see that his hands were shaking. Without a glance at either of them, he left the room.

  KATJA

  KATJA MET THE colonel in the corridor. He was walking fast, his head down, and he almost ran into her. She was just about to say hello as he looked up, but she stopped when she saw the expression on his face. He bent down to her.

  “Were you in on this mess?”

  He nearly spat the words; the guard behind him came up and took hold of him.

  “Colonel, I apologize, but the witnesses are not allowed to speak to each other.”

  He stared hard at her, but she said nothing. He shook off the guard’s hand.

  “God damn it,” he said, staring hatefully at her; then he made his way through the corridor with long strides. She swallowed and continued down the corridor, to the door that led into the interrogation room.

  “AT WHAT STAGE did you join the operation?”

  The man was asking. The woman sat quietly, brandishing a pen, clearly ready to take notes. She held her notepad at an angle, so Katja couldn’t tell whether she was writing yet. She wondered if this was a tactic to make her feel insecure.

  “I came in once they had settled on Anna Francis.”

  “What do you know about how that decision was reached?”

  “I understand there were other potential candidates, but they had chosen to bet on her.”

  The lead interrogator looked down at his papers and gave a hum.

  “What did you know about Anna’s background?”

  Just answer the questions, Katja thought. Not too much and not too little. Just answer the questions.

  “I knew of her, but so did everyone, more or less.”

  “How did you know of her?”

  “Well, from magazines, TV . . . her work in Kyzyl Kum.”

  “But you knew more about her than what was written in the magazines, didn’t you?”

  This was the woman, the second interrogator, speaking. She smiled. There was an intimacy and directness in the way she spoke. As if they were only confirming what they already knew. Katja’s answer was hesitant.

  “Well, I did have access to the report on her time in Kyzyl Kum.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It . . . it doesn’t feel quite right to discuss that here. You know, some of this is . . .”

  “Classified?” The second interrogator was still smiling her courteous little smile.

  “I don’t know if I am supposed to answer that question.”

  The second interrogator leaned over to the tape recorder on the table and said, “Pausing the tape.”

  ONCE THE TAPE was rolling again, the second interrogator was once more the one to start off:

  “Katerina Ivanovitch has been shown the d
ocuments in which the Chairman authorizes both her and myself to discuss the material found in the classified report SOR 234:397 Class 3. I will ask again: What information was in the documents you were shown before you traveled to the island?”

  “Well, there was quite a bit there. She suffered from PTSD, of course . . .”

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “Yes, exactly, and as I understood it she had also had some problems with her use of FLL.”

  The second interrogator looked at her with interest, one eyebrow raised.

  “You say ‘use.’ Not ‘abuse’?”

  Katja shifted in her chair. She had known that this would come up, and she felt relatively well prepared.

  “It’s hard to tell. She had lived under extreme circumstances for quite a long time. I would say that it is not abnormal to self-medicate with narcotics or anti-anxiety medications, or to develop PTSD under those circumstances. In fact, those things would suggest a functional person. It would be abnormal not to allow oneself to be affected by those circumstances.”

  “I understand,” said the second interrogator, even as she appeared not to want to or be able to understand. “Was that why you eventually accepted that FLL should be made accessible to her on the island?”

  “Well, no . . . No. I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

  “You even went so far as to submit a written protest—why?”

  The question was posed in that same mild tone, but a hint of harshness had slipped into her voice.

  “I thought it was unnecessarily cruel. Someone who has managed to stop using shouldn’t be exposed to the risk of falling back into it. Not under such pressing circumstances.”

  The second interrogator tilted her head as if she didn’t quite understand.

  “And yet you don’t want to label her an abuser? Not even in light of what has happened?”

  “No, I think that word is too strong. It’s misleading.”

  “Did you know that she had undergone treatment for her abuse?”