The Interrogation
eter pulled against the bindings that held his legs to the chair.
He had never met the big man who was strapping his wrists to the arms of
the chair. Nor did he recognise the tall man, dressed in a suit, who stood
watching the big man calmly.
�Make sure it�s tight�, said the tall suited man. Peter guessed that this was the one in charge.
Having only just regained consciousness Peter was more than a little bewildered at the position he found himself in. He had no idea what they might want but decided straightaway that he would tell them whatever they wanted to hear and would give them whatever they wanted to get so that he could get the hell out as soon as he could.
The big man stepped away from the chair. Peter was securely tied. The suited man looked towards Peter.
�Peter Gregson. Is that your name?� he asked.
�Yeah, I�m Peter Gregson.�
The suited man turned and nodded casually to the big man. The big man seemed to be the suited man�s thug. The Thug stepped up to Peter and lashed out with his large fist. It caught Peter on the side of his head, right on the ear. Peter gasped in surprise and pain. He motioned to stand but the bindings held him tight.
�We do not have time to burn Peter. We are looking for your brother. Where is your brother?� said the suited man.
The Thug struck at Peter again, this time hitting Peter right in the middle of the chest. Peter was still reeling from the first blow and this latest attack sent all the air rushing out of his lungs. He gasped for air in painful breaths. The pain in his chest plus the violent throbbing of his ear meant that he could not concentrate on anything outside his pain. His eyes were unable to focus and his mind was muddied by fear.
The suited man was now standing directly in front of Peter�s chair. He was close, less than a metre away. The Thug now returned to his side. �Where�s Terry?� asked the suited man.
Peter, unable to understand the question because he was struggling to refill his lungs with air, could, however, make out his brother�s name. So this was about Terry. Peter and his elder brother Terry were not particularly alike. Neither shared the other�s interests and had they not been brothers they would not have been friends. But their relationship was founded on their early years together as childhood playmates. They knew each other intimately and were quite close. Plus they were the only brothers each of them had.
Terry would often tell his brother about his latest �get rich quick scheme�. Peter had heard many of these schemes before but became concerned when Terry told him about his latest business venture: a marijuana plantation hidden in the Hunter Valley. Terry had no experience in matters of this kind. Peter did his best not to listen and eventually pleaded with his brother not to tell him any more. He wanted nothing to do with it nor did he want Terry to have anything to do with it but he also knew better than to try to dissuade his brother from something he was set on.
Peter wondered what these guys could want with his brother. They couldn�t be cops. Most likely they were creditors or competitors of some kind. But Peter�s mind could only concentrate on external subjects for so long. He started to feel afraid for himself.
�I�ll ask you again. Where is Terry?�
As he asked this question the suited man bent forward even closer to his captive. His face was now centimetres away from that of Peter�s. His cool gaze hypnotically held Peter�s as he waited for a reply.
Peter did not answer. This was not out of obstinacy or a regard for his brother�s welfare but because he felt physically unable to move his tongue or lips.
The suited man stepped back, showing no irritation of impatience. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out a gun. He then calmly pointed the gun at Peter.
Peter looked down the barrel. The black as black hole of the gun barrel held his gaze as efficiently as the man�s eyes had moments before. It seemed to Peter that the black hole was moving closer and closer. The black hole was looking bigger and bigger. Each second brought the hole nearer and nearer so that the barrel would soon rest upon his clammy forehead.
The gun, however, was not moving at all. The suited man had his arm extended, seemingly indifferently, towards Peter. The gun in his hand was still, while Peter�s whole body was shaking involuntarily in a newly discovered fear. The suited man waited for an answer.
�Terry�s here in Sydney�, croaked Peter.
The suited man quickly replaced his gun in the inside pocket and then pulled out a pen and small writing pad. �Where in Sydney?�
�Hevington Street. Number 26 Hevington Street. It�s his girlfriend�s place.�
�Girlfriend�s name?�
�Suzanne.�
�Suzanne who?�
�Dunno, just Suzanne.�
The suited man wrote this down without hesitation. The Thug looked on impassively. Peter�s ear was throbbing painfully.
The suited man�s demeanour had now significantly brightened. He was happy. And like many people who are pleased at a job they consider well done, the suited man could not help gloating.
�Now don�t worry about your brother, we aren�t going to hurt him, unless of course he doesn�t help us out.�
He put the pen and pad back inside his suit.
�Hopefully he�ll be a lot like you Peter. The kind of guy who would betray his own brother.� He laughed a taunting laugh.
Peter was not much affected by this unsophisticated psychological attack. In fact he was hardly listening. He was occupied with coming to the realisation that he was probably going to live.
�We won�t untie you and I feel bad about that�, the suited man continued. �In fact, I feel bad about this whole kidnapping and violent interrogation business. But I�m sure you must feel a lot worse, betraying own brother like you have.� The suited man was deriving great pleasure from reminding Peter what he had been forced to do.
�Let me pay you for the trouble.� He threw a $20 note at Peter. �There. At least today wasn�t a total loss. You made some money.� He laughed his laugh again.
The water finally started to clear from Peter�s eyes. He looked at his suited tormentor, who appeared impossibly tall, and then the Thug, who looked plain big. He also noticed the room where he was being held for the first time. Three, blue painted, windowless brick walls greeted his gaze. It was a small room and had a cement floor. He couldn�t see the wall behind him, the bindings on his wrists and ankles prevented this. A single, high wattage globe attached to the ceiling lighted the room. The ceiling looked far away from his seat, higher even than the tall suited man did.
He could breath freely again and throbbing in his ear was becoming bearable. He looked at he suited man once again who was still speaking, most probably saying something humiliating and belittling. Peter wasn�t really listening. Anger and revulsion at what he had done had replaced his recent feelings of fear and intimidation. The suited man�s arrogance had triggered something deep inside. He was no longer scared. His mind was clear and calm.
He heard what sounded like a roller door raising behind him. He realised he was in a small garage. The Thug was lifting the roller door in preparation of leaving. The suited man still stood before Peter, a contemptuous look on his face. He motioned to leave but promptly turned back, remembering something.
�One last thing Peter. You meant Hevington Street in Parramatta didn�t you.�
Peter stared at the suited man unblinkingly.
�No�, he said. �Not Parramatta.�
�Well where is it then?�
�Hevington Street?�
�Yes.�
Peter waited before answering. �I forget�
Upon hearing this response the suited man immediately lost his flippant air an assumed his former cold, �don�t fuck with me� countenance.
�Close the door�, he said. Peter heard the Thug close the roller door and then move over to beside the chair.
�Hevington Street. What suburb?� said the suited man again.
�Dunno, forget.�
The Thug�s fist plunged into Peter�s side. Peter shouted loudly in pain.
�What suburb?�
�There�s probably only twenty different Hevington Streets in the street directory. Try looking it up.�
The Thug hit Peter again, in the same spot.
�It is Parramatta isn�t it Peter?�
�Guess you�ll never know what fucking suburb it is�, groaned Peter.
The Thug attacked Peter in the side once again. Peter heard the crack and felt the sharp hurt of a rib being broken.
�We can hurt you Peter. We can even kill you. I know that you don�t want to die so tell us what suburb it is and we�ll let you go.� Despite all his efforts to remain calm the suited man�s face betrayed increasing irritation.
Peter looked up at the tall, suited figure and gave a big smile. �I�m sorry. You were right. It really is Parramatta.�
He enjoyed seeing these sentences sink in.
After a lengthy silence the suited man exploded. �Bullshit! Where the fuck is it really?�
�Parramatta�
�Bullshit!� He was really shouting now. �Tell me where or I�ll kill you.� The suited man had lost all semblance of composure. The Thug shifted uneasily.
Peter slowly articulated each word. �My - brother - Terry - is - in - Parra - matta.
The suited man was enraged. He fell upon Peter raining blow upon blow on his head and shoulders. �Where is it. Where is it.�
When he finally stopped Peter�s face was a mess of red blood and purple blotched skin. The suited man stepped back, breathless. Blood ran out of Peter�s broken nose in a stream, running over his lips, down his chin and dropping into his lap. For a long time no body spoke.
When Peter finally broke the silence he spoke with difficulty, his speech hampered by his broken teeth.
�You�re just not sure are you�, he whispered. �You can�t decide whether I�m really lying or not. I tell you Hevington Street Parramatta but you can�t believe that.� Peter�s voice grew stronger. � I say Parramatta and you just know that it must be Hurstville or Dee Why or Chatswood. But what if I knew you would think that. Perhaps Parramatta is the right answer and I told you knowing that you�ll never believe me.� He let this sink in.
�But then again I might be telling you this just to torment you�, he continued. �Chances are that it�s not Parramatta or Chatswood or anywhere. What if Hevington Street doesn�t exist? I just made it up. Maybe I don�t even know where my brother is. Perhaps I don�t even have a fucking brother. Who the hell is Terry Gregson?� he laughed. �Hey, perhaps I�m not even Peter Gregson. I lied from the start. Yeah stop calling me Peter. My name�s Joe.� Peter stopped, waited and then continued.
�The truth is that you can�t tell. You just can�t be sure.�
The suited man�s face betrayed his lack of confidence.
�Bullshit�, he said, his voice unnaturally high. �I know you�re Peter Gregson and I know that you�re brother�s in Parramatta. I know that now. I know it.�
�No, you don�t know that. You don�t know anything for sure. If you knew for sure why keep talking to me? The truth is that you don�t know and you don�t have the time to find out. You said yourself that you don�t have the time to burn. You don�t have the time to go looking up all twenty Hevington Streets. If you did you would. But if you go to Parramatta, Terry might be in Hurstville, and when you get to Hurstville he�ll be in eighteen other places. Terry must know you�re after him so he won�t stay in one place for long. If you knew for sure then you�d go because you don�t have the time to burn.�
There was another lengthy silence. Peter thought that the suited man�s eyes looked glazed and feverish. But all of a sudden the eyes narrowed and the suited man came to a decision. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the gun. He pointed the gun at Peter.
�Tell me or I�ll kill you�
Peter looked down the barrel again. Strangely the black hole of the barrel had no effect on him any more. The hole seemed small and insignificant. He looked back at the feverish eyes.
�If I tell you where he is you won�t be able to believe me. You have no way of knowing whether I lie and you have no time to find out. You can�t be sure�, he said softly. �Can you.�
The suited man�s arm was rigidly extended towards Peter. Despite this the gun was shaking uncontrollably. He couldn�t keep the gun still. Peter, bound to the chair, sat calmly, relaxed and unmoving.
Meanwhile the Thug had noiselessly moved himself behind the suited man. He slowly, slowly raised his large arm and placed it on the shaking arm of the suited man. He lowered the shaking limb so that the gun was pointing to the cement floor. He then carefully closed his other hand over the pistol, took it and pocketed it.
�Its not that important�, said the Thug. He had a surprisingly soft voice. �Not important enough to kill.�
The suited man nodded meekly as he stared at the floor.
The Thug then bent down to Peter and unfastened the bindings on his ankles and wrists. Peter was free but was too tired to move. The Thug studied Peter�s ruined face.
�In fifteen minutes an ambulance will arrive for you. You�ll tell them and anybody else who is interested that you were unconscious the whole time and can�t identify your attackers. Do you understand?� Peter nodded.
The Thug then proceeded to put on a pair of leather gloves. �Give me your wallet�, said the Thug. Peter did so. The Thug took the wallet pulled out all the cards inside and scattered them over the floor. He then took the money out of the wallet, there wasn�t very much, and put in his pocket. �You were mugged�, he said. He tossed the wallet on the floor too.
�Now�, said the Thug. �If you tell anyone what really happened either us or someone in our employ will kill your ex-wife and little girl in Brisbane.� Peter was surprised at the Thug�s accuracy. He did have an ex- wife and daughter in Brisbane.
�We won�t go to jail for this without destroying your life first, Do you understand?� Peter nodded again.
�In return we leave your brother Terry alone.�
Peter agreed. The two interrogators turned to leave. Peter turned and studied the suited man as he went through the opened roller door. Peter put his height at around 5ft 10, maybe less. The Thug moved to follow the suited man outside but stopped and pulled out a small hand towel. He went over and placed the towel in Peter�s lap. �Here�, he said. The Thug then walked out and pulled the roller door closed behind him.
