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"If Jock gets back and finds you with something in there, you'll regret it."
"Regret the chance to surprise him? I don't think so. Do you know how to sing
harmony? Sing with me.
`Standing on the promises that cannot fail ..."'
The guard slammed the door.
TWELVE
RAYFORD HAD only an inkling of what Buck must be going through. It had to be
different for a husband than for a father. But he couldn't put his finger on
it.
"Here's what we'll do," he told his son-in-law. "I have arranged with Lionel
to leave us a two-seater. It's fast, but it holds only so much fuel. We'll
have to take on more en route, maybe in Cypress. We'll help get every-one else
out of here; then we can sit at the airstrip for all I care. Fly to the
Midwest somewhere, the South. Wher-ever you think we'd be closest to Chloe."
"And do what?"
"We can take that little satellite TV and keep in touch with Mac and Otto and
Krystall, see if we can get a clue," Rayford said.
"You just want to be on the same continent when she dies, is that what you're
telling me?"
"Well, uh, no-"
"Dad, think about it. I don't fly planes. You don't have a backup pilot.
Neither of us is military. You've got a two-seat plane for two guys, so
there's no thought of springing Chloe and bringing her along."
Rayford sat and held his head in his hands. "I don't know what else to do,
Buck. I'm not leaving the States with her still in custody. But unless we find
out where she is, I'm not putting a crew on it either."
"Where're we going to go?"
"How about Wisconsin, where Zeke was? He tells me the GC never nose around.
It's fairly central, so if we do get word, we can be on our way quick."
Jock led Chloe to a dimly lit room about a hundred paces from her cell. "It's
just you and me tonight, ma'am. No playing off the other cop, no bright lights
in your eyes, no pressure."
But when she saw where she was supposed to sit, a steel chair bolted to the
floor with leather straps on the legs and armrests, she said, "No, it won't be
just you and me, Jock."
"What do you mean?"
"You alone cannot strap me into that chair."
"I think I could, but you wouldn't like it."
"And I'd make you wish you hadn't done it alone.
I'm not getting strapped down for any reason unless I'm overpowered. Uh-
uh."
"How about we try this the easy way?" he said. "How about we just talk awhile
and see if you need restraining?"
"No truth serum?"
"Not if you cooperate."
"I can tell you right now I won't."
"I can't persuade you to rethink this, be nice, help yourself?"
"No sir. For one thing, I have to use the ladies' room, and I won't even be
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sitting, let alone strapped in, until then." Jock sighed and walked her
farther down the hall. "As you can imagine," he said, "there's no window in a
prison john. The only way out is the way in, and I'll be waiting."
Mac was on the phone to Rayford from high over the Atlantic in the middle of
the night. "When is Weser going to be at the palace?"
"By eight A.M. their time."
"I'm guessing top priority is anything on Chloe."
"Right."
"And then Carpathia's plans." "Exactly."
"I'll try him a half hour after he's supposed to have gotten there. I'll call
you as soon as I know anything."
Chloe emerged from the dingy Stateville bathroom to find Jock with three
guards, a woman and two men.
"So it's not just the two of us, Jock?"
"Could have been. When you're all strapped in and not happy, look in the
mirror. At least by telling me up front, you saved wasting my time trying to
talk you into anything and then having to rassle you into the chair."
As Chloe walked down the hall, the woman grabbed her right hand and twisted it
up behind her, while one of the men did the same with her left. She thought
about protesting; she had made it clear to Jock she wasn't going easy.
As soon as they entered the small room, the third guard bent and scooped her
off the floor by her ankles. The wrenching pressure on her shoulders made her
cry out, but within seconds she was strapped in the chair.
The guards left, leaving a hypodermic with Jock. He shut the door and
approached. "Last chance," he said. "You're not going to tell the truth
without this?"
Chloe's pulse sprinted until she noticed her friend from solitary sitting in
Jock's chair. "I'm not going to tell you the truth with it," she said.
"Oh, this has broken stronger subjects than you," Jock said.
He began by inserting a receptacle in a vein in her forearm. He did it with
such precision it was clear he had experience. Chloe felt no pain, and he
deftly taped it in place. Then he inserted a tube that ran to his side of the
desk.
Jock sat and Chloe's new friend stood behind him. She fought a grin, peeking
at him over Jock's head. "What are you looking at?" Jock said.
"Nobody you know," Chloe said. There was some truth, if he wanted it.
Jock inserted the hypodermic into the tube. "When I push the plunger, it will
inject 15 cc's of serum, half an ounce, into your veins. You should feel
little more than a relaxed mood. You probably know how this stuff works. It
counteracts a chemical in your brain that inhib-its overfrankness. But, of
course, that is precisely what I want from you."
"I can't wait to hear what I have to say."
"Say enough, and it's life rather than death for you."
"Oh, Jock, I think someone else here needs truth serum more than I do."
"You doubt me?"
"You know as well as I do that no matter what I say, I still die."
"Not necessarily."
"You're a liar. I know that, and that's the truth, and if I'm not mistaken,
you haven't even injected me yet."
"No, but enough of this. Here we go."
Chloe's visitor motioned from behind Jock like a music director, and Chloe
began to hum. Then she sang quietly. "
`There shall be showers of blessing;
this is the promise of love.
There shall be seasons refreshing, sent from the Savior above."'
"The serum doesn't act that quickly, so don't assume you're singing the
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truth."
"`Showers of blessing, showers of blessing we need.
Mercy drops round us are falling, but for the showers we plead."'
"Nice tune."
"Thanks. Nice lyrics too."
Within a few minutes, Chloe felt the effects of the serum. It was strange. A
sense of well-being, of trust, that she could feel free to say anything,
anything at all. If she didn't know better, she would want to help this man by
answering his questions. No harm would come to her, and everything would be
all right.
Except that she knew better. She looked past Jock.
"How long will you be with me?" she said.
"As long as necessary," the invisible man said.
"Hm?" Jock said. "As long as this takes. I got some rest. I can hang in here
as long as you can."
"Bet you can't."
"Try me."
Chloe smiled. "I think you'll find me very trying." "How are you feeling?"
"Mellow."
"Good. That's progress. What is your name?" "Chloe Steele Williams, and proud
of it."
"What is your father's name?"
"Rayford Steele."
"And your husband?"
"Cameron Williams. I call him Buck."
"Do you have a child?"
"Yes."
"What is his name?"
"His name is very special to Buck and me, because he was named after two dear,
dear friends and compatriots who died."
"And what were their names?"
"If I answer that, you will know the name of my son."
"And why should I not know the name of your son?"
"The less you know about him, the harder it will befor you to gain access to
him."
"I have told you we mean your son no harm."
"That is a lie."
"Anyway, you mentioned his name to your father on the phone. Kenny."
Jock pushed the hypodermic plunger again, and maybe it was psychological, but
Chloe seemed to feel an immediate rush. Strange, but the stuff did seem to be
making her tell the truth, even if the answers were not what
Jock wanted.
He was more red-faced than usual. Was she making him mad? She hoped so.
"Are you a member of an underground group subversive to the Global
Community government and its supreme potentate, Nicolae Jetty Carpathia?"
"Yes."
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