Rendition

Erez looked at the young woman designated Raven through the two-way mirror. The once-pretty woman was gone. Her lip split, her nose broken, all told a story of violence. The shackles had cut into her wrists and ankles through the repeated interrogations, leaving them bruised, raw, and bleeding.

Erez watched the look of horror on Raven's face as the two men tipped back the chair she was shackled to. Raven violently shook her head, desperate to avoid the cloth that Ulf wanted to wrap across her face.

Even without sound, there was no mistake. The word no was repeated over and over as Raven begged and pleaded for them not to do this. Raven struggled and screamed, frantic to avoid what she knew there was no escape from. Erez was grateful for the soundproofing. This was a silent horror movie.

Ulf finally got the cloth across her twisting face and pulled it tight, smothering her, making it difficult to breathe. Then, as if this wasn't enough, Tomasz poured water from a gallon plastic bottle across her nose and mouth. Raven gagged, thrashing hard against the straps, her body fighting the drowning. The shackles dug deep into her flesh as she tried to push her body off the chair. The water ran down Raven's face, down the side of the chair and formed a pool on the hard concrete floor.

Erez watched, her penance for having ordered this. It hadn't taken long for them to confirm the names. But that was no longer enough. They wanted everything. Contacts made, bank accounts used, dead drop locations, anything and everything Raven knew. The whole sorry business.

Broken and battered, Raven had surrendered every drop of information she possessed. Now, the process was repeated to make sure nothing had been held back. Everything must be checked and rechecked. Time and again, Raven went through the waterboarding. It was the only way to be sure.

Erez stubbed the cigarette out into the empty cup of coffee, blowing the smoke from her lungs. She once swore never to become this person again. And yet, here she was. Dread struck her as her watch beeped, telling her it was time to get back. It took an act of will to return to what the Poles refer to as the 'playroom.'

Outwardly calm, she ignored the assault to her senses of this thrashing woman, the constant drumming of her heels on the concrete. A rancid smell reached her nose, making her want to gag. The poor woman had lost control of her bowels.

Erez steeled herself. For the next hour, she asked questions. Every hesitation, every time Erez was unsure that she was hearing the truth, the Poles tipped the chair back and grabbed the water. It continued because it must. People's lives were at risk, but that didn't make living with it easier.

Erez's phone vibrated. Realising she needed to take this, Erez stepped outside into the corridor. She steadied her trembling hands, forcing down the flood of emotions that threatened to consume her. Finally, in control, Erez answered the ringing phone, "Erez?"

"Gabriela?" McGregor was the only person outside her mother who used her first name, and then only in private moments.

"I'm just going through the information you sent us. I think you did rather well. How sure are we of the asset?" McGregor asked.

"I'm in Poland," Erez answered pointedly. The simple answer told him all he needed to know. Poland was a black site used for rendition only.

"Do you think there is more to come?" he asked.

Erez thought about what was left of Raven's mind, "No, we are at the checking stage. We are almost done here."

"And you?" McGregor asked.

"And me what?" Erez replied, her anger rose quickly to the question.

McGregor sighed, "How are you handling it?" The 'it' was the million-dollar question.

Erez's mind flashed back to the six-month stand-down filled with daily appointments with a shrink, during which she had quit smoking, drinking, drugs, and sex. Basically, she quit life in general. It had taken all of that for the board of enquiry to sign her off. Her 'lapse' had been quietly swept under the carpet.

"There is nothing you need to worry about."

"Excellent!" McGregor's voice was light, "I knew I could count on you. Now, how soon can you close it all down and return to the fold, so to speak?" McGregor asked.

Erez lit a cigarette, thinking. The Poles have done all the dirty work. Now, it's just a matter of clarification.

"Twenty-four hours."

"Are you smoking again?"

"Just cigarettes," she knew McGregor, as a twenty-a-day man, wouldn't give her a hard time for that.

"And the demon drink?"

She could hear the smirk in his voice. It infuriated her.

"Give me some credit," she snapped back, "Who cracked this open? Could I have done that if I were still drinking?"

The idea of drink was as appealing as a lover's kiss, but she tamped down hard on that itch, that need to numb herself.

There was a silence, then, 'Call me when you get to London,' McGregor said, then hung up.

"Always a pleasure...," Erez said into the dead phone. She took a deep breath and then forced herself to walk back into the 'playroom'.

Raven was still vomiting water when Erez ordered her taken back to the cells. The guards dragged her away. A trail of water and vomit followed her out of the room.

Erez sat down with the two interrogators. They all lit up, the flick of lighters breaking the heavy silence. A blue haze of cigarette smoke soon thickened the air, curling toward the ceiling.

"We need to wrap this up. Thoughts?" Erez said, waving away her smoke.

Ulf, the taller of the two Poles, said, "We have everything. She has nothing left to give."

The second one, Tomasz, the more thoughtful of the two, just nodded his agreement and then asked, "What do you want done with her?"

Erez thought for a second. The wise decision would be to bury her. But she wasn't sure how much more her conscience could take. Tomasz read her hesitation correctly.

"We can pump her full of junk and dump her. Somewhere out of the way. Another country, though, not here." Tomasz suggested.

Erez searched for some reason to object but found none. "Let's do it."

Both men nodded their heads; this wasn't new to them. Slipping across quiet borders was all part of the freelance package they offered.

"Alright," Erez said, stubbing out her cigarette. "Let's get packed up. I want us gone within a few hours."

As the men left the room, Erez remained, her gaze drifting around the room. She imagined everything these walls had absorbed, every scream, every secret, every plea for mercy. A shiver ran through her. She exited quickly, unable to face the room and its nightmares any longer.

+ + + + +

Tomasz dropped Erez off at her hotel. It was five-star, spacious, and new, part of a rapidly expanding EU chain. The anonymity, tranquillity, and brightness contrasted sharply with the rural cement box Erez had spent the last several days in.

The hallways were deeply carpeted and quiet, the only sound being the electric whir as her key opened the lock. Erez kicked off her shoes and looked in the mirror. There were deep bags under her eyes. Her hair felt dry and lifeless.

Erez went immediately to the bath. Its bright light burned thankfully into every corner of the bathroom. She knew she would sleep with all the lights on tonight. Erez turned the taps on full and reached for a tiny bottle of bath oil. The smell of Lavender and Sandalwood infused the air. Erez poured in the entire bottle, leaving it to foam.

Back in the main room, she removed her pistol from its holster and placed it under the raft of pillows on the bed. She stripped off her clothes. They smelled of smoke and things she would rather forget.

She paused, looking at the mini-fridge. Time stood blinking like a waiting cursor. What would she do next? She accepted failure was inevitable and grabbed three miniature vodka bottles from the minibar. She cracked the first bottle and downed it in a long, hard swallow. The sting in the back of her throat was a pleasant memory of a life she had worked so hard to leave behind.

Erez slowly lowered herself into the scalding water. She drained the bottles one by one, each swallow a defeat.

Only then did the tears come, great uncontrollable sobs. But still deep in the rational reptilian part of her brain, she heard herself wonder.

When did I stop being a good person?