Chapter Seventy-nine

Chapter Seventy-nine
Bryan
Finally, we agreed upon questioning the spy and using force if necessary to make him speak. After breakfast, Francis brought us to see him in the cell. It was a tall, slim man with long, straight, black hair and blue eyes. He had that kind of look that says he could kill anyone.
"I guess you already know why we're here," Francis said.
"I know, but I'm not going to tell you anything!" He exclaimed.
"If I were you, I'd choose to speak now. My friend here doesn't show any mercy to anyone. It'll be less painful for you, and we might forgive and release you if you behave," Francis said.
But instead of doing what Francis said, the man spat on his face. Without a second thought, Francis clenched his fist and threw a punch to the man's face, making his nose bleed. I've never seen Francis this angry before. He's about to give him a second blow, but I held his arm, stopping him.
"Easy, man," I said. "We'll have to make him speak first. He won't be able to speak if you break his face."
Francis took a deep breath, slowly putting down his clenched fist. "That doesn't sound like you, boss. The Bryan I used to know was the one who'd need to be stopped from hurting others, not the one who stops others from hurting them."
I hate to admit it, but Francis was right. I was often the one who caused us trouble with my short temperament. But I've learned a valuable lesson. Sometimes we can't take things by force, but by strategy. Right now, I can't really hurt anyone without being reasonable, especially since Kacy's here. I don't want her to think I'm a monster. I want to show her that I've changed.
"Why won't you guys go outside first?" I asked. "I'll handle this."
"If you say so." Francis stepped back and left. Kacy followed him.
I sat down at the desk, put my leg on the other, and twisted my arm, looking at the restrained man in front of me, with a bruise on his face and a black eye. He looks so young, probably in his twenties. Maybe he doesn't know what kind of trouble he has gotten himself into.
"You won't get anything from me," he murmured.
"I don't mind if you don't want to share any information," I said. I know it might not sound like me, but I need to be more patient. "Unless you want to stay here, with no water, no food, just you and your thoughts, your conscience, watching the days and nights pass by, until you become a skeleton. You won't be able to see your family if you have one. The people you are working for are actually just using you."
He remained silent for a while, as if thinking about what I just said. He must know I wasn't being a bullshit. No one really cares about anyone. People use people for their own self-benefit, but if this man has family to support, a wife or children, then he must understand what I mean.
"Seems like you need some time to think." I stood up. "I'll be around if you ever change your mind." I was about to leave when he said something.
"Wait!"
I looked back and saw tears streaming down his eyes. "You miss me already?" I asked, sarcastically.
"Would you really release me if I tell you something?" he asked.
"If you tell us everything—the truth, no lies—I'd know if you lie or not. About setting you free, that might take some time. We'll have to verify your information first and do something about it," I said.
Looking at his feet, he seemed hesitant. "My wife is pregnant, and I need to see her soon. I actually took the job in order to support her and our future. My boss knows everything about me. I'm afraid he'd kill my wife if I betray him."
I sighed. "Nobody's really forcing you to speak up. It's your choice whether you want to stay here forever locked up in this cell until you become a skeleton or cooperate with us to see your pregnant wife again."
The man didn't speak, but I could see his fear with the way he swallowed the lump in his throat. This will test him to see what's more important for him: his loyalty to his boss or his love for his family.
"I know it's something to think about. If you can't decide right now, then you've got plenty of time. But don't make it too long, or you won't get another chance," I said.
"Why are you so good to me?" he asked, crying.
"I'm not really good. I'm just giving you some options."
"But not everyone would do that. I was expecting to be tortured," he said.
"We can actually torture you if we want. But there's nothing more unbearable than being locked up, alone and isolated from the world, with nothing to accompany you but your thoughts and conscience," I said.
"You're right. If I tell you everything, can you at least give me some protection? You know, I don't want my wife dead."
"Sure. I'll tell Francis about your request." I stepped outside and found Kacy and Francis standing in the corridor, hands twisted on their bellies, looking grumpy like cats. They looked at me as if I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. "I'm sorry, guys."
"You don't have to apologize," Kacy said.
"So, what did he say? Did he tell you who he's working for?" Francis asked.
"Not yet. He needs some time to think about it. But he seemed convinced enough to cooperate. Also, he needs protection for his wife if he'll tell us everything. His boss knows everything about him, so he's in danger if he betrays his boss," I said.
"And you believe him?" Francis asked, almost incredulously. "That doesn't sound like you, boss. You're so gullible. The Bryan I used to know never trusted anyone. You have changed a lot. That man might be just lying for us to set him free."
"I know. That's why we won't set him free unless we verify the information he'll give," I said.
"Your choice. You're the boss," Francis replied with a hint of disagreement in his tone of voice.
"I know you don't agree with this, but trust me, Francis. I know what I'm doing." I gave him a tap on the shoulder.