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"The guard will now lead you into the main room. You may take a seat on the chair provided. When you are seated comfortably, the guard will secure your feet."
Okay, this was getting tedious.
"You sure you don't want him to secure my feet first?" I asked. "Throw me over his shoulder and carry me to the chair?"
"Please rise from the toilet and proceed into the main room."
"Can I look now?" I asked. "Maybe you should blindfold me."
"Please proceed to the main room."
Geez, this guy was scary. As I walked from the bathroom, I saw the man from Paige's picture, short, round-faced, doe-like eyes watching me impassively. To his left was a young woman with spiked burgundy hair and a snub nose adorned with a diamond chip stud. She kept her gaze on my chin as if not wanting to look higher. Both were seated in chairs that hadn't been in the room five minutes ago. Flanking them stood two guards, more military types. Like the guy accompanying me, they wore fatigues, had buzz cuts, carried guns, and looked buff enough to give WWF champs a good whupping. They stared at me with expressions so blank you'd think they were guarding the chairs instead of live people. I caught one's eye and gave a shy half-smile. He didn't even blink. So much for seducing the guards. Damn. And they looked so cute ... in a GI Joe, molded-plastic, automaton kind of way.
Once I was seated, my escort secured me to the chair with arm restraints and leg irons.
Matasumi studied me for at least three full minutes, then said, "Please do not use this opportunity to attempt escape."
"Really?" I looked at the metal bands strapping my wrists and ankles to the chair, then at the trio of armed guards behind me. "There goes that plan."
"Good. Now, Ms. Michaels, we will skip the denial phase and begin our discussion based on the premise that you are a werewolf."
"And if I refuse that premise?" I asked.
Matasumi opened a teak box filled with bottles and syringes and tools, the uses of which I preferred not to ponder.
"You got me," I said. "I'm a werewolf."
Matasumi hesitated. The young woman lifted her pen from the pad, glancing at me for the first time. Maybe they'd expected me to resist. Or maybe they were just hoping for a chance to use their toys. Matasumi ran through some baseline lie-detection questions, the sort of things anyone who'd done the most basic research would know: my name, age, place of birth, current occupation. I wasn't dumb enough to lie. Save that for the big stuff.
"Let me begin by telling you that we already have a werewolf in custody. Your answers will be compared against information he has already provided. So I would suggest you tell the truth."
Damn. Well, that changed things, didn't it? So much for wholesale prevarication. On the other hand, it was possible that Matasumi was lying about having a mutt. Even if he did, I could pepper my lies with enough truth to keep them guessing which of us wasn't being completely honest.
"How many werewolves are in this ... Pack?" Matasumi asked.
I shrugged. "It depends. It's not static or anything. They come and go. It's not a close-knit group. Kind of arbitrary, actually, who the Alpha lets in and kicks out, depending on his mood. He's a very temperamental guy."
"Alpha," his assistant interjected. "Like the alpha in a wolf pack. You use the same terminology."
"I guess so."
"Interesting," Matasumi said, nodding like an anthropologist who's just discovered a long-lost tribe. "My knowledge of zoology isn't what it should be."
Behind me, the door clicked and air whooshed out. I turned to see the woman who'd lured me into the car.
"Tucker told me you'd started early," she said. She turned a pleasant smile on me, as if we were new acquaintances meeting for cocktails. "I'm glad to see you're up and about so quickly. No lasting effects from the tranquilizers, I hope."
"Feeling peachy," I said, trying hard to smile without baring my teeth.
She turned back to Matasumi. "I'd like Doctor Carmichael to check her out."
Matasumi nodded. "Tess, please call Doctor Carmichael from the hall phone. Tell her to bring her equipment down for a checkup at seven o'clock. That should give us sufficient time with the subject."
"The subject?" the older woman laughed and glanced at me. "Please excuse us. Our terminology isn't the most civil, I'm afraid. I'm Sondra Bauer."
"So pleased to meet you," I said.
Bauer laughed again. "I'm sure you are. Hold on, Tess," she said as the assistant headed for the door. "No need to buzz Doctor Carmichael. She's expecting us in the infirmary."
