The Dying Game

by Asa Avdic

  “Well, we’re nearly finished! All that’s left is a couple of questions to wrap up. I understand this is taxing, but we need to get a clear picture of all the details.”

  “Why is that?” Katja asked.

  The lead interrogator gave no signs that he had heard her; instead he asked if she wanted a taxi and conveyed her wishes by way of the black telephone that was on the desk beside the tape recorder. Katja felt herself begin to relax. The second interrogator sat quietly, apparently looking through her notes. Without taking her eyes from them, she asked in a mild tone: “Did you know there was more than one candidate on the island?”

  Katja was startled.

  “What?”

  “Did you know that?”

  “No . . . I’m sorry, are you sure that’s true?”

  Katja’s heart suddenly started pounding hard in her ears. What was this? Both interrogators were now looking directly at her, studying each of her reactions, as if they wanted to make sure they didn’t miss a single hint about whether she was telling the truth or lying.

  “Am I to interpret your response to mean that you did not know that?”

  “No. I mean . . . correct. I didn’t know that. Who was it?”

  “Unfortunately, I am unable to say,” said the second interrogator.

  Katja gave a reflexive shake of her head.

  “But . . . what happened to the second candidate?”

  JON VON POST

  “NOW I’D LIKE to jump forward to the final phase of the operation. Can we talk about that?”

  Jon rubbed the sweat from his forehead; it had started to pour out of him again. The air in the room felt stuffy and poor.

  He was sitting there in the bright room with the dark windows and sweating. His knees ached. Across from him sat a woman and a man in their forties, the lead and second interrogators, like a pair of siblings. What they had gone through thus far was an endless series of details. When had he learned what? Who had said that? Could he recall if this thing or that had happened first? He responded to the best of his ability, his impatience growing. The Chairman had said it was necessary for him to do this, so he was doing it. He didn’t have to like it.

  The first interrogator turned to the woman and whispered something in her ear, at which she nodded, located a folder on the table, and handed it to him. The lead interrogator paged through it for a moment, then put it down on the table and awaited Jon’s reply.

  “If we truly must.”

  The lead interrogator tilted his head.

  “It sounds like you’d rather not?”

  “I just don’t feel like it.”

  “Why do you find this difficult?”

  This was the woman, the second interrogator, asking, as if she hadn’t heard what he’d said. Or was ignoring it.

  “Why would I want to go through all that crap again? Did you know I haven’t slept through the night since I got home from that goddamn island? You ruined me. You must be aware of that, right? That you ruin people?”

  “We are very grateful for your cooperation,” the lead interrogator declared mechanically. Each time Jon raised any objection, the response had been similar. He went on: “It is important for us to understand what happened on the island. So can we discuss the final phase of the operation now?”

  “Yes. May I have some water?”

  The second interrogator took the carafe and poured a glass to hand to him.

  “Can’t you ask Lotte about this instead?” Jon asked after taking a sip.

  “Lotte Colliander is exempt from these interrogations. She will report directly to the Chairman now that she is a member of his staff,” the lead interrogator replied. The second interrogator shot him a look of irritation; it seemed she thought he was saying too much. Without a word, Jon handed the glass back for a refill. The lead interrogator poured more water into it, simultaneously asking, “How did you receive your instructions from Henry Fall?”

  Jon took the glass and drained it in three gulps before answering.

  “So he came into my room and confirmed his identity as an agent again. There was more to tell than what he’d said down in the kitchen, so he explained the situation, told me that he had drugged Lotte . . . that is, to keep her from having a breakdown, and he said he would soon be moving her to the shelter behind the house where the others were waiting. He told me to walk down a path, around the house, through the brambles, along the rock wall, and into the underground shelter below the northwestern corner of the house. He said Anna was the one being tested, not us, and that she was alive. But the situation had become precarious now that he didn’t know where the gun was, and we had to get to safety as soon as possible. He asked me to go on ahead, by way of the stairs to the kitchen at the end of the hall, and then take the kitchen door out to the back. He would follow with Lotte very soon after; he just had to gather his things.”

  “And how did you react to that?” the lead interrogator wondered.

  “I did as he said. What else could I do?”

  “So you believed him,” the lead interrogator wanted to confirm. Jon considered this.

  “Yes, it seemed plausible. Or at least, it wasn’t any less plausible than anything else about the situation. And of course it was a relief to hear that Franziska . . . or, I mean, the others, hadn’t been harmed.”

  It felt strange to say Franziska’s name. He had tried to contact her a number of times since the island but always received the same response. That she was busy, and later on, that she had traveled out of the country “to recuperate.” He wondered what that meant. He hadn’t seen her on TV a single time since Isola. He’d asked the interrogators about this earlier, but they said more or less the same thing: she was “resting up” after her experiences on the island. Presumably her brother-in-law was protecting her; if you were family of the Minister of the Interior, you probably didn’t have to sit for interrogations if you didn’t want to.

  “So you made your way to the underground shelter. How was the mood there?”

  “Pretty calm. Franziska had arrived just a few hours earlier, the same way. And, you know, the whole thing was pretty surreal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it was like Judgment Day. People you thought were dead. And then they were just sitting there.”

  Jon shuddered internally. He remembered the peculiar sensation in the underground shelter. How the others had stared at him in the dimly lit little room. How it had felt like they were all uncertain whether they were dead or alive. How he still woke up at night and wasn’t quite sure.

  “We’re very nearly finished here,” said the second interrogator. “Just one more thing. Henry spoke with you about his assignment two times. Both you and Lotte were there the first time, but the second time was in your room, right?” Jon nodded. The second interrogator continued.

  “How did Henry Fall present himself when he gave you the information in your room?”

  “He said he was an intelligence officer and he was charged with watching over Anna and protecting her.”

  “Nothing more?” The second interrogator looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  “No,” Jon replied. “Was there more to it?”

  THE SECRETARY

  NOW IT WAS the second interrogator’s turn again. She shuffled the papers in front of her as if she were looking for something.

  “Will this be much longer?” the secretary asked, casting an annoyed glance at his wrist although he no longer had a watch on it.

  “That is entirely up to you,” she responded without looking at him.

  “I would like some coffee,” he said, and he could tell that he sounded like a whiny child. She pretended not to hear him; instead she started in from another direction.

  “So at which point did you all decide to have two candidates? Both Henry Fall and Anna Francis?”

 
The secretary swallowed. His mouth felt dry. He really would have liked some coffee.

  “I understood all along that this operation was far too large and risky to put all our hopes on a single candidate.”

  “Was that everyone’s understanding?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Was everyone made aware that there were two candidates on the island?”

  The secretary tried to work out what she was really asking, but he couldn’t.

  “What are you trying to get at?” he asked.

  The second interrogator shoved all her documents together until they were in a perfect stack before she spoke again.

  “Okay, I’ll phrase it like this: Was the Chairman informed that you had placed two potential candidates on the island? Both Anna Francis and Henry Fall?”

  The secretary felt the air grow heavier in the room as it might just before a thunderstorm.

  “That’s a silly question,” he said. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to suggest.”

  The second interrogator looked at him. Her little smile was gone.

  “Please just answer the question,” said the lead interrogator, as if to remind them that he was still there too.

  “Yes, of course I informed the Chairman. Why would I make that sort of decision on my own?”

  “The Chairman,” the second interrogator drawled, “says he had no idea that you had a second candidate on the island. He thought Henry Fall was one of the people who would test Anna Francis.”

  The secretary couldn’t believe his ears.

  “What?”

  She began again as if he truly hadn’t heard her.

  “The Chairman says he didn’t know . . .”

  The secretary rose from the table. His whole body was trembling.

  “What the hell is this? What are you saying? Turn off that goddamn tape recorder!”

  Without a word, and with the satisfied expression of a person who has just bowled a strike, the second interrogator bent toward the tape recorder and switched it off.

  A LITTLE WHILE later she bent over again and pressed “record.”

  “Interrogation resumed. Now let’s return to the question of whether you had informed the Chairman of the plan to put more than one candidate on the island.”

  The secretary was speaking quickly, tripping over his words.

  “I misunderstood the question earlier. The answer is no, I made the decision to place more candidates on the island all on my own. I regarded it as within my sphere of authority to make such a decision without informing the Chairman.”

  “Did anyone other than you know who the second candidate was?”

  At this point, the questions were coming directly from the second interrogator.

  “No one but those under me. Very few people.”

  She put out her hand, and the lead interrogator handed her a folder. She didn’t take her eyes from the secretary. Her pupils were large and black. She smells blood, he thought.

  “Some documents exist,” said the second interrogator, “in which you confirm that there is a second candidate, and you also mention that second candidate by name. If this was in fact an official decision, then how come you didn’t inform the Chairman? Didn’t it seem appropriate to go up the ladder for support when it came to such a crucial decision?”

  “Like I said, I misunderstood your earlier question; I thought you meant to ask if I ought to have informed the Chairman. Of course I should have done so. But I didn’t.”

  “Was Henry Fall himself aware? That he was a candidate?”

  “No,” said the secretary. “Neither Anna Francis nor Henry Fall knew that they themselves were the ones being tested for placement in the RAN group. But Henry knew Anna was a candidate. He knew that she hadn’t died that first night, that she was alive.”

  “And what was the plan, having two candidates on the island?”

  “Well, it was simply to see which of them was best equipped to handle the situation.”

  “And how was that to be determined?”

  “It was to be evaluated afterward.”

  The second interrogator raised her eyebrows again. The secretary wanted to slam a brick into those fucking eyebrows.

  “In what way would it be evaluated afterward?” she asked.

  “Well, what usually happens? We would walk through the situation, listen to their reports. Look at the answer key, so to speak. Nothing sensational. Standard procedure.” The secretary tried to maintain the same mild tone that the second interrogator employed, but he could tell that his voice sounded alarmingly shrill.

  “Was that all?”

  “Yes, of course. Do you have differing information?” he said before he could stop himself.

  “So it is not true that you said, and I quote, ‘We’ll see which of them gets off the island alive’?”

  By this point, cold sweat was running down the secretary’s back. He could see where this was heading. He’s sacrificing me, he thought. That goddamn Chairman is actually going to sacrifice me this time. He thought back to the meetings he’d had with the Chairman before the interrogations commenced. “It will look better if you’re the one who takes the fall, but naturally it’s all just for appearances; eventually you’ll be exonerated. I’m behind you one hundred percent.” Hadn’t he looked a little odd even then? Hadn’t he avoided meeting the secretary’s gaze? The secretary realized that he had been stupid. That he had been gullible. And now he was on his own.

  “Who claims I said that?”

  “Just answer the question—did you say that?”

  “I don’t recall.”

  “You don’t recall?”

  “I don’t recall. I talk a lot. I might have been joking. Not everyone understands my sense of humor.”

  The second interrogator made a little face. She looked down at her papers and jotted down another note.

  “Whose idea was it to place the gun on the island?” the lead interrogator suddenly interjected.

  “Don’t recall,” the secretary hurried to repeat.

  “Did you tell Henry Fall to bring a gun?”

  “Don’t recall.”

  The lead interrogator stretched. “Mr. Secretary,” he said in an authoritative voice, “I must remind you of the gravity of this situation. One of the candidates you selected for evaluation under extreme conditions, the highly valued security officer Henry Fall, is now in the morgue. The other candidate is in the hospital after attempting to take her own life. The result of this ‘evaluation,’ as you call it, cannot be described as anything but a complete disaster, both ethically and strategically. Someone will have to take responsibility for this incident. Do you understand what I’m saying? It will not suffice to plead memory loss in this instance.”

  “No, and it is absolutely regrettable, but I truly don’t remember every word and action.”

  The second interrogator looked up. She put the papers down on the table and leaned toward him.

  “How about if I pose the question like this,” she said slowly. “Was it part of your plan that only one of them would leave the island alive? Was that, in fact, the test?”

  The secretary leaned forward as well. There were only a few inches separating their faces. In a low voice, he said: “You can ask as many times as you want. I have only one response: the only thing I did was try to take responsibility for the security of the Union. Can you say the same for yourselves?”

  The second interrogator did not take her eyes from him. She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it again.

  “You’ve been fooled too,” the secretary whispered to the second interrogator. “Don’t you get it? He fooled all of us.”

  “Mr. Secretary,” said the lead interrogator, “I must remind you that this is . . .”

  Suddenly the secretary leaned backwar
d and crossed his arms over his chest; his prison shirt formed a small crease over his breastbone.

  “I won’t respond to any further questions. Take me back to my cell.”

  The second interrogator reached for the tape recorder, leaned forward, and said:

  “Interrogation concluded.”

  THE END

  (OR THE BEGINNING)

  ANNA

  I WAS AWAKENED by birdsong. The room was white. Something was sparkling and dangling before my eyes, and when I tried to focus on it I realized it was that handle thing that hangs above hospital beds, to make it easier for debilitated people to sit up. The sun glittered on the chain, which was swinging back and forth a little as if it had just been used. I slowly turned my head. At the edge of the bed sat the Chairman; he was paging through a women’s magazine. I wondered how long he had been sitting there and how long I had been asleep. Or whatever it’s called. I had been given so many sleeping pills that I hardly knew whether it was sleep or an induced coma. They didn’t want to take any risks, they said. I needed rest, they said. They didn’t want me to kill myself, they didn’t say, but I assumed that was what they actually meant. The question was whether that was what I wanted. I didn’t know.

  I tried to move a little. It was slow going; my arms didn’t quite want to obey.

  “Anna? Are you awake?”

  The Chairman put down the magazine and leaned forward with a fatherly smile.

  “Can I have some water?”

  He stood up, walked over to the sink near the door, and filled a plastic cup with water. I followed him with my eyes; he came back to the bed and handed me the cup, then sat back down on the chair.

  “I thought it was about time to come look in on you myself.”

  I let my gaze drift beyond his head, out the window, which was open a crack despite the bars. White clouds moving across a blue sky. I thought of the last time I had seen clouds moving so rapidly across the sky, and realized it was with Henry, behind the house. The memory caused my body to stiffen with discomfort. The Chairman looked at me and said in a kind voice: