The remote control - the interrogation

A prosoner of war who managed to escape passes an interrogation by the Saigon C.I.A branch, in an attempt to verify his testimony.

Two days later after having passed a week in an army hospital and another one of intense and tiresome interrogations, which were carried out by the army's intelligence special service; Nick was transferred in a prison van, with an escort of two Military Police guards who were as big as he himself was, to the U.S. embassy in Saigon.                         

He was ushered into the conference hall on the top floor, where three men in dark black suits sat waiting for him behind a long and heavy mahogany desk.

The youngest of them, who looked as if he just graduated, right out of his college gates, was sitting in their midst; while on both his sides sat gray hair middle aged men, watching Nick with grim faces and tight lips. On the desk in front of that young man, a rather big tape recorder was already switched on, its reels turning in a regular cadence.

'Nicholas Theodore Spree, that's your name isn’t it?'

'Yes sir, that's my name.' He answered the young C.I.A agent's question with some hesitation, but he was getting quickly used to the quite comfortable circumstances, though he did not expect such circumstances at all.

There was no comparison what so ever with the intense and hard week, which he passed just recently at the military intelligence headquarters. These thoughts anyhow, were just his first glimpses. 

'Do sit down,' the young man said politely. 'You must have been submitted to some unpleasant procedures last week. I mean the interrogations you'd to pass. But anyway there're still some questions concerning your rescue that are bothering us. There're some vague and incomprehensible points in your testimony. We've got a copy of it by the way, here in front of us and it’s our intention of course, to clear up these points right away.’

He made a short pause, watching Nick intently, and went straight on. ‘Is there anything you wish to add to that testimony? Are there any details you might have forgotten or anything at all that might assist our inquiry?' The Saigon's head of operation's young assistant asked on.                           

His boss the head of the C.I.A agency in Saigon sat on his right, while his deputy sat on the other side close to the door. The three of them looked like respectable businessmen, representing some well-known firm.  

'No sir I have nothing to add.'

After all I’ve nothing to be scared of, I’ve managed to escape with lots of good luck of course. But in any case, I did it! I’ve survived! I did return alive and here I’m.  

Nick thought encouraging himself. Although never before I’d anything to do with such high brass, all those curious officers just last week; and these big and haughty shots right now... He went thinking and cleared his throat, just thinking about it made him cough slightly.                  

'These of course are issues of crucial importance.' He heard that young man last phrase. 'In which you could be of much help to our efforts, in describing for instance the persons you came across, the places you were kept in, but with much more details. When I say details I mean the effects of our bombardments on the Ho Chi Minh trail; the number of trucks that started the journey in that convoy; and how many of those trucks managed to reach their destination? Where exactly was that destination? Well that's about the details we're interested in. You should be a remarkable source of information, and an invaluable one, if you really were there as you claim...'                           

'What, but I was there.' Nick raised his voice in anger.

‘Yeah we know all about it, it’s written down here in that testimony of yours. All right let’s start with that official, you claim to have met twice. Describe his features, his questions. By the way, did he question you all by himself? Was nobody else present there, while he met you? He didn't use say an interpreter?'

'That's right we were just the two of us, that’s how it was.' Nick answered his interrogator briskly, shrugging his shoulders, ignoring the first part of the question.

'What language did he use to communicate with you?'

'English, he spoke English.' What was that question for? What language am I able to speak except English! Don't they know it? He’s getting on my nerves, that wise guy.

'How was his English?'

'I could understand him, though he spoke as a Frenchman speaks it, the way most of them do.'                                

'I see,’ the young agent said. 'Let get back to the first time you've met him, where was that and when?'               

'As soon as we've reached the villa, that building, the jail I was kept in, near Hanoi.'                                     

'And you insisit you were all alone with him, is that how that meeting took place?'

'No, not on that time, those who brought me in, the lot of them stayed on.'

'When he was asking you his questions, what did the others do? Didn't they repeat his questions with anger, shouting at you?' Raising his voice gradually and repeatedly, the young agent went on asking. 'Didn't they shout at the top of their voices at you, the lot of them repeating his questions?’

'No, they didn’t. He was the only one who asked, the others kept quiet.' Nick answered him utterly upset, failing to grasp the young man's sudden change of conduct.

'Is that so? And what did he ask you then, what were his questions like?'

'He just asked my name, rank and number, nothing more.'

'You mean you were not interrogated, not even once?' The young agent wondered, 'and on the second meeting, when was that exactly?'

'It took place a couple of days later.' Nick answered him quite readily.

Things seemed smoothly enough again, he thought hopefully. The young agent seemed to move things fast. Just a few more questions and it will be over. He encouraged himself.                      

'Who was he? How was he addressed? He did have a name didn't he?' the young head of opertation’s assistant showered Nick with a sudden flow of questions, in a surprising switch.

'Didn't he introduce himself before you in some way? Let's say: I'm the man in charge here, my authority is such and such... I've interrogated so many American prisnores, or my men interrogated so many American prisoners’.  Couldn't you pick up some clue of a name or a rank or a status, out of his words or the way others treated him? There must have been some things he didn't hide from you!'

'I don't know, I’ve no idea...' Nick muttered confused. 'I was brought to that office and there he was awaiting for me, all I wanted was to leave that place as soon as I could...'

'Don't you recall any more details of those meetings?'

'No, I really am sorry but I don't recall anything more.' Nick said shrugging his shoulders again with growing antipathy.                                                                        

He could sense a slight change of atmosphere among his three interviewers, the young agent and his two mute colleagues. They seemed quite disappointed for some reason. But Nick was getting tired of those endless questions, and he did not even bother to guess how the whole thing is going to end up. He had enough of it already.               

'What was the second meeting for, then?' the young man asked, barging in sharply into Nick’s thoughts.                   

'He said he wanted a friendly conversation, and kept complaining about our war crimes and how righteous they are and all that crap, well, you know. '

'So as a matter of fact you were never interrogated, while being in their custody, no thereats, no torture of any sort?' Remarked mockingly the young agent. 'What else did he say...? Didn't he refer to your future in some way? Didn’t he have any suggestions to offer you If you’ll accept their demands?'     

'There was something I couldn't make head or tail of. He said I was a hard nut to crack.' Nick recalled with a foolish smile, which darkened more than ever his listeners’ intent and grim faces.                                  

'Do you expect us to believe that he conducted some kind of a friendly chat with you, what for and in what sense?' the young man wondered puzzled.

'I already told you, I have no idea why...' Nick reminded him, 'he might have tried to flatter me, make me talkative, that’s what I thought.” He went on in an effort to help the young man, the best way he could.                          

'All right,' the young interrogator resumed the questioning after a short and embarrassed pause, 'how did he look like, was he young, old. Well come-on! You do still remember him, don't you?'                      

'He was old enough, about the same age of my own father I guess.'

'He wasn't a real old man then, of about seventy or seventy five years old?'

'No, I don't think he was that old.' Nick Answered surprised.

'What about his features, did you notice any scars or any strange or irregular features, things of that kind?'                

'No I didn't notice anything special about him, apart from a shock of white hair and an ugly wrinkled face �" that's all I can remember. They all look alike to me.’ Nick added with an embarressed smile.

'I see, was he tall compared with the other Viets, or much shorter than the average one?'                                     

'I don't know, he was already seated when I was brought in. He did look small to me, but how small I can't tell.' In his own subtle way, based on his short experience of captivity, and last week's interrogations; Nick tried desperately to convince his small audience that he wasn't worth at all to be termed as a reliable source of information. But that stubborn young man, kept persistingly on.

'How did he behave during the meeting? What was he doing with his hands, for instance? Haven't you noticed any special gesture he usually made? Let’s say like passing his hand through his hair for instance? You know, these sorts of things?' the young agent tried the polite and friendly approach, once more.

'I can't remember, he must have kept his hands in his lap I guess, I didn’t see them.’ Nick answered him flatly. He was getting bored and in a way, and did not give a damn for any of them. Last week's interrogations at the Army’s Intelligence Headquarters were much more frightening...

The older one of the two men on both of his interrogator's sides, coughed slightly several times. The young C.I.A agent glanced furtively at the older man at his left side, clearing his throat he turned to Nick once again: 'In your testimony, you claim to have passed some very subtle and peculiar brainwash treatment. The fantastic method you've described in it is quite bizarre I'd say… We have a fair knowledge in these matters, I mean, we know well enough their methods; but anyhow, whatever you've described in your testimony isn't one of theirs typical methods, so the details in your testimony, simply doesn't fit in. Just why have you been taken north, all the way to Hanoi? They could have kept you in one of their centers, in one of their villages not too far off. That's what they usually do in every other case, which we happen to know of.' The young assistant made a short pause, sneaking a look at his boss.

'Well then, they didn't have to keep you up to date of course, during your captivity, but you must have had some views, some thoughts of your own.  Haven't you ever asked yourself the same questions, all along that time? Didn't you wonder what it was all about?' The young agent went on in his efforts to make Nick how critical his position is.

'They wanted to turn me into a red, I guess… But for heaven’s sake, how should I know what it was all about? It was stopped suddenly I don't know why, I don't even know if I'm right in guessing so.'                           

Okay let’s skip it! You weren't tied when the chopper's crew whisked you out of there, how did you manage to release your hands?'

'Oh, they untied me as soon as we joined the convoy, I wasn't kept tied during the whole trip. I wouldn’t have dared to escape, I knew that I would have been caught right away if I tried.’

'Do you want us to believe that they didn't tie your hands again before crossing the border. Or at night fall, at the burnt down village where you have spent your last night with them �" not even on the following morning, which you supposed would be your last day on earth?'

I'll never make them understand... Nick thought desperately shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of indifference. Why bother then... I'll never convince those haughty “know all” sons of b*****s in anything at all!                              

One of the two men on his interrogator's side pulled a cigarrette case out of his jacket's inner pocket.

The young assistant Glancing at him in silence, cleared his throat and declared solemnly: 'We'll have a fifteen minutes recess now.’ Pushing an unseen buzzer he summoned Nick’s escort, to come and fetch the detainee.

'There're refreshments for the three of you, in the next room.' He added dryly, and watched them leave, taking Nick with them.

That’s it I hope. Nick thought glancing back over his shoulder at the three of them, as he was leaving the room.

He did not betray Nicole, neither during last week’s interrogations nor now. He did not tell them anything about his love for her, and nothing about their mutual escape plans. Why should he, when the little he did tell them seems fantastic and incredible to them.

 

© Haim Kadman 1991 �" all rights reserved.