Vs Reality by Blake Northcott Page B

doesn’t matter what year it was, but she looks at least twenty-one! You’ve seen her, right?” His eyes dart nervously between the Asian and the giant. “Right guys?”
    Goto leans in, his nose just inches from Jens’. “My apologies, Mister Jennum, but perhaps I didn’t express myself clearly enough. That happens from time to time. It has been a very long, rather disappointing evening, and I haven’t had a latté or a steam shower in several days. Needless to say that puts me in somewhat of a foul mood.”
    “Okay…?” Jens replies, his voice trembling.
    “I am going to ask you a series of very pointed questions. And you, Mister Jennum, are going to reply with very specific answers. Preferably using as few words as possible.”
    Jens blinks like an owl and nods twice. Water runs from his hairline and trickles down the bridge of his nose.
    “Let’s begin,” Goto announces with towering authority, straightening his posture. “How do you know Miss Davenport, and what is her relationship to Donovan Cole?”
    “Miss who ? I’ve never seen that girl before in my life! Until Cole walked up to her at Platinum I don’t think he had, either.” Jens swallows hard in a dry throat, and then a thought drifts into his head. “Wait, if you’re a cop shouldn’t you be showing me a badge, or giving me my phone call or something?” He’s seen TV and he knows how these things are supposed to work. At least in theory.
    Goto ignores the question. He begins to stroll around Jens’ chair in tight circles, his polished leather shoes clacking the concrete floor with each deliberate step. “Then how did you know to come to Platinum tonight of all nights, Mister Jennum, and that Miss Davenport would be at that precise location, at that precise time? That’s quite a coincidence. And very convenient.”
    “Why do you care how Cole met that chick with the angel wing tattoos? Is she a hooker or a drug dealer or something?” Jens shifts uncomfortably in his chair trying to break free of his bonds, but the wires only tighten, biting into his skin. “I have nothing to do with this. If you’re running a sting operation you legally have to tell me. I saw it on CSI once.”
    Goto ignores Jen’s struggle. He can see he’s that trying to wriggle himself loose, but makes no attempt to stop him. “We have very specific instructions for this assignment, Mister Jennum, and as I mentioned before, time is running short – as is my patience. Since sodium pentothal takes quite a while to take effect, it looks like we are out of options. We’re going to improvise.”
    Goto circles back in front of the chair, his dark gaze focused on Jens. He locks his feet in place and reaches out to his side, palm facing upwards. “Mister Heinreich, if you’d be so kind.”
    Heinreich flips open the red toolbox, the lid protesting with a loud creak. He extracts a pair of bolt cutters and drops them in his associate’s hand.
    Jens’ heart leaps into his throat. He bucks and squirms, hips rising from his seat, but his constraints refuse to budge. They slice his wrists and scrape his ankles through his jeans. “Please dude, don’t do this!” he screams. “I need my fingers – all of them! I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but please don’t do this!”
    “ Relax ,” Goto sighs. “Those days are over, Mister Jennum. The era of recreational waterboarding and testicular electrocution are far behind us. And as long as you follow my instructions there will be no need to resort to more extreme measures.” He stoops to Jens’ eye level. “But bearing that all in mind, it has been several years since Mister Heinreich has had the opportunity to use enhanced interrogation techniques, and from what I’ve been told, he can be very…persuasive.”
    Jens glances over Goto’s shoulder. Mister Heinreich nods and cracks his knuckles into his palm, each pop echoing through the abandoned warehouse like a wine cork.
    With three quick snips Goto