"I believe you should count on a minimum of several hours," Illyanov
said. "Probably no less than a day, perhaps a bit more. He was an
Enforcement trooper, after all, and was trained to resist
interrogation."
"You've got one of those?" Odeon smiled, wolfishly. "My urge is to
tell you to take care of him before you do anything else, but Strike
Force business has to come before even that. So I'd recommend you see
Colonel Bradford first."
"That's not necessary."
Cortin recognized the "Lieutenant's" voice and and started to rise, but
was stopped by his next words. "As you were, gentles--and thank you,
Major, for not giving me away." He pulled up a chair and joined them.
"Pleased to be of help, sir." Illyanov managed a seated bow. "I
presume you are not here by chance?"
"Not at all, Major." Bradford smiled, the expression making him look
years younger. "My interest in Captain Cortin led me to be sure I was
informed of her choice of subject, and I wanted to review the films
when she was done." He turned to Cortin, still smiling. "I hadn't
expected you to choose two, especially not the first time, and
especially not ones with so little promise. I've got to compliment you
on how well you did with the first one."
Cortin shook her head. "With all respect, sir, I don't think I did
that well. I just hope I can do better with the rogue."
"Maybe you can, at that," Bradford said. "As Major Illyanov said, not
every Inquisitor can tell truth from lies intended only to stop the
pain, and not many of those learn it the first time with a subject; if
you can do that already, there's no telling what you'll be able to do
with a little experience."
"As I told him, it's something I've had since childhood. I can't claim
any special credit."
Bradford chuckled. "You don't have to, as long as it works," he said
drily. "It's still a good sign, as is the fact that you enjoy our work
from the start. There are those who never do, and they're naturally
free to find something else--but I'd imagine you're anxious to get to
work again."
"Yes, sir, I am."
"Good." Bradford stood. "In that case, shall we go to the chapel for
your Ordination? I'm afraid the secrecy we're under for the time being
means it can't be as elaborate as a civilian ordination, but you can be
assured it will be effective."
"I don't doubt it, sir." It didn't seem quite proper to have
Ordination without public acknowledgement, but Mike's must have been
that way too, and since it obviously didn't bother him, she couldn't
let it upset her. "I'm at your disposal."
The brief ceremony over, Bradford returned to the Palace while Cortin,
Odeon and Illyanov made their way to the suite where her prisoner
waited. It might have been a brief, basic ceremony, Cortin thought,
but it was one she would remember for the rest of her life, from the
unprecedented sight of an armed Bishop in Enforcement uniform and stole
to the anointing of her hands. She rubbed the oil that was still on
them. It was hard to believe she was really a priest now, far harder
than it had been to believe she was an Inquisitor when she saw the
badge in her ID folder--but of course she'd had some preparation for
that, where half an hour ago it had never occurred to her that she'd be
a priest. As she'd told Mike, though, if she had to be a priest to be
a Strike Force team's Inquisitor, so be it. What surprised her was
Bradford's acceptance of her necessity; the only explanation she could
think of was that the Strike Force needed Priest-Inquisitors badly
enough they'd ordain anyone who claimed both vocations. That was
unsettling in its own way, but since it served her purpose, she wasn't
inclined to argue.
The three entered the suite and went through the routine of getting
into coveralls. Odeon wasn't sure why he was there, except that Joanie
hadn't asked him to leave and he'd never seen a third-stage
interrogation--though he'd both seen and helped in several second-stage
ones. He said as much, then continued, "So if you need me to do
anything, you'll have to tell me."
"I will," Cortin promised. "I didn't send you away because it didn't
occur to me, but I'm certain to need help in the field from time to
time, and there's no one I'd rather have backing me. So if you're
willing, you should get used to both third-stage and my methods."
"I'm willing--especially," he opened the door to the third-stage room
where the prisoner was shackled, waiting, "when the subject's someone
like this plaguer. Renegades and Brothers deserve anything an
Inquisitor does to them."
"Keep thinkin' that, cull," the prisoner sneered. "You ain't worth the
effort it'd take to spit on you. You or that other bastard, or the
Bitch."
Cortin looked him over, cooly. He was naked, spreadeagled between
chains in the ceiling and eyebolts in the floor, and must know he was
completely at the Inquisitor's mercy--but he probably didn't know she
was the Inquisitor. With all three of them in coveralls, he had no way
of knowing who was who, just that he was faced with two men and a woman.
The Special Ops men who had beaten him had done a fairly professional
job, she decided. Not enough to eliminate his defiance, but enough to
give her quite a number of tender areas to exploit in addition to the
natural ones. She smiled, approaching him and showing him the backs of
her hands. "I'm the one you call the Enforcement bitch, rogue. I
survived the Brothers' torture, unfortunately for you and the rest of
them. Because I intend to return the favor without the mistake, and
you will tell me how to find the specific ones who damaged me."
"I'm not tellin' you a damn thing, Bitch!"
"Wrong, and you know it," Cortin said calmly, beginning the examination
that would tell her where his flesh was most sensitive and thus most
vulnerable to her persuasion. "You will perhaps tell me less than I
wish, but you will tell me as much as you can."
He jerked away as she probed a dark bruise over his ribs. "Like hell I
will!"
"We shall see." Cortin hid a smile, a bit surprised at herself. She'd
noticed a little of it last time, but it seemed to be getting stronger:
when she conducted an interrogation, she adopted Illyanov's speech
patterns--perhaps as a reaction to the prisoner's crudity, perhaps as a
tribute to her teacher, she didn't know, and it didn't really seem to
matter. "I think that before too long you will be most curious as to
the information I want, and you will be increasingly eager to give it
to me. When you do, I will release you."
She was pleased to see the prisoner starting to look apprehensive. He
still had his defiance, though. "You damn servants of corruption never
let anyone go! So why should I believe you'll start with me?"
"I did not mean that kind of release, as you should know, having been a
trooper yourself. I meant only that I will release you from your
pain." She explored further, identifying areas of promise from his
sounds and flinching. It was a temptation to relieve him of his
genitals, she thought as she reached them, but that would be
short-sighted; from her own torture, as well as her studies, she knew
them to be capable of some of the body's most exquisite pain. No, she
would leave them where they could be of the most use--right where they
were.