Page 18 of Mastermind

“What was your takeaway?” she asks.

“I’ve encountered a lot of personality types. Each one is different, but they all share traits in common. Heywood?” I shake my head. “He’s an abhorrent personality among abhorrent personalities.”

“Some see him as a kind of leader. They look at him as either a messiah or an instrument for change,” she says, watching my reaction.

“Hitler had a pretty big fan club, and women sent Ted Bundy their panties. The self-destructive nature of people doesn’t surprise me. Back when I bothered to check my email, I’d get ravings from people who either thought one of the assholes I caught was innocent or I was the culprit in all the killings. There was even a podcast that tried to make that case. The troubling part was that even more people followed my Twitter feed when that theory got popular.”

“Did you frame those men?” asks Blackwood. I stare at her, not answering.

“It’s a simple question,” she says.

“It’s not. The answer is, but the question is not. You’re not a stupid person, so you already know the answer. I’m just curious what you think my reply would tell you. Or perhaps I just did.”

“Fair enough,” she replies.

“Good, then let’s talk about your lies, starting with you saying you’re not here to interrogate me. Clearly that’s what this is.”

She nods. “Correct. That wasn’t truthful.”

“All right. Why?”

“I can’t tell you that yet. What were my other lies?” She leans in, elbows on the table.

“You told me you were going to ask that woman for directions. You didn’t need directions.”

“That wasn’t a lie. I asked her for directions,” she replies.

“Fine, it was a misdirection, then. Your phone call was loud enough for me to hear, but you lied to whomever you were talking to, if anyone at all. Was that for my benefit or theirs?”

“Neither. Next question?”

“You helped put her bags onto the bus. I didn’t see you do anything, but I’m sure you did something. That was another misdirection, but clearly for my benefit. I’m sure nobody else was paying attention.”

“Observant, Dr. Cray. It appears you were a little more lucid than you let on,” she replies.

“Trust me, the hallucinations are real. And I know this is real. I know we’re here in this . . . safe house. But I’m not sure why we’re here or what we’re trying to keep safe from. You mentioned the embassy, but that’s in the other direction.”

“The embassy is being watched,” she says.

“I would assume. But who’s worried about the embassy being watched? Us or them?” I ask.

“Who is us?”

“The United States government,” I reply.

“So, you consider yourself on the side of the US government?”

This is an unusual question. Does she need me to explain my loyalty? “Most of it. There are certain elements within it that I might have a conflict with.”

Her posture changes slightly, and her right hand drops to her side, where she more than likely carries a sidearm. “What parts?”

“I was ambushed in the jungle. Two nights before, I saw a small speck flying over our camp. It came from and traveled back in the same direction as a US military installation in Thailand,” I explain.

“You think you were being spied on by the US government?” she asks.

“Observed. I think that intelligence found its way to Myanmar military officials.”

“You think the US gave up your location? Why? Why not just take you out directly?”