The Aperture

Chapter 15

The Mock Interrogation

The police officer escorted Alyndia and MacGregor down the drearily lit hall to the cell where Professor Gerald Layton was being held. The guard opened the door and held it open for the two. Alyndia was about to enter when MacGregor clutched her by the arm, holding her back in the hall. He spoke into her ear in a low, gruff tone.

“No matter how much you despise this guy, don’t lose control,” he said. “If you beat him too badly, he’ll be able to complicate things. And we don’t want that.”

“You mustn’t worry,” Alyndia replied. “I have control.”

Alyndia walked into the interrogation room. It was sparsely furnished with only a bare wood table and five chairs. The only item on the table was a small, aluminum ashtray. No other furniture stood in the room, and nothing adorned the thinly painted cinder block walls. The room felt hot and stuffy on entry, and it smelled of old sweat and fear.

But now Alyndia thought she would faint when she saw Gerald sitting at the table, for the first time, in the flesh. He sat dressed in light blue prison garb, unshaven, looking soundly dejected. His arms were stretched behind his back, and his head hung down. Alyndia’s heart raced when she saw him there, and this same heart was struck with pity for what they’d done to him. She did not look to MacGregor or the guard, as she knew her yearning for him would be evident in her expression.

The guard walked over and removed a set of handcuffs from Layton. MacGregor took a seat at the table across from him. Alyndia did the same. Once the handcuffs were removed, the professor brought his hands to his chest and began nursing the red marks caused by the tight cuffs. He looked up at his two visitors. Alyndia’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met briefly, but his expression remained cowed, stoic. She then realized he didn’t recognize her for who she was. The guard walked over the door and stood there in his crew cut and starched shirt, swinging the cuffs in one finger.

MacGregor dropped an overstuffed manila folder on the table. Layton, Gerald O. Prof. read the index tag. No one at the table spoke for almost ten seconds.

“So we meet again, Professor,” MacGregor said.

“Yes, we have. Would someone mind telling me what charges I am being held for?”

MacGregor smiled at Layton the way a cougar might when he discovers a lame fawn. “Possession of controlled substances without a permit, aiding a terrorist, a host of other charges, not to mention causing harm to the federal agent investigating your case.”

On hearing these words, the professor looked over at Alyndia, the white bandage taped to her wrist. He raised his eyes to her face. “I see you’ve recovered, Agent Bain,” he said to her.

“Yes, I have,” she said. “I have recovered nicely.”

Alyndia detected a subtle change in his expression as she said this. Perhaps he himself detected something familiar in her voice. Then he lowered his eyes to the table.

“You people never listened to me,” he said. “Because of your meddling, I have lost the most important person in my life.”

“Who is that? Your son?” Alyndia asked.

“No. My Alyndia.”

MacGregor guffawed. “Are you going to bring up that story again of a sorceress from another dimension, Professor Layton?”

The two agents stared down at the professor, but he did not reply.

MacGregor continued. “You know, when my partner here was out, I almost started believing what you were talking about. Now I’ve realized it’s just a lot of bullshit. As you can see, Connie is here, and there’s no such thing as this ‘Alyndia the Sorceress’…”

As Alyndia took in MacGregor’s words, she wondered if he really believed everything he was telling the professor. She suspected he had serious doubts about her true identity, even though he did not convey this fact to the professor.

Professor Layton gave MacGregor a hard, scornful look. “I told you the truth. It is your choice whether you two want to believe me or not. I maintain my story. I would like my lawyer to be present. Where is my lawyer?”

“You can call your lawyer,” MacGregor said. “But the fact that you need him only tells us you’re hiding something from us. In case you’re wondering, we’re about to turn the case over to the federal prosecutions office. But I must advise you, unless you change your tune, you’re not going to get anywhere.” He leaned against the table. “Why don’t you come clean? Just tell us what’s been going on, and we can make this simple without raking you through the mud.”

The professor let out a vexed sighed. “Look, I’ve told you everything there is to tell. So, there’s no point in continuing this interview or interrogation or whatever it is. You’ve taken away my Alyndia, and now you’ve taken away my freedom. What more do you want from me?”

Alyndia felt sorry for Gerald. He looked so forlorn and defenseless now that they were apart. He was now suffering on account of her. Alyndia fought the temptation to leap across the table and take him into her arms. She began thinking of ways she could get him alone. She addressed MacGregor. “I think I can get him to tell us the truth,” she said.

“Yeah?” The peculiar gleam in his eye suggested that he believed he was seeing the old Connie Bain again.

“I just need some time alone with him. He’ll change his mind about telling us the truth.”

MacGregor pursed his lips, trying hard to keep from erupting into a smile. “Go easy on him, now,” he whispered to her. He stood up and slid the chair noisily beneath the table. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.” He shot Professor Layton a glance that projected both mockery and pity, then he left the room.

Now only an officer at the station watched them from the doorway. “I would like to see the prisoner alone,” she said to him.

He nodded once and then left the room. Once the door clicked shut, she began pacing the room across the table from Professor Layton. The euphoria of being alone with him made her feel weak at the knees. She did not tell him what she felt. She wanted to prod him first to ascertain that he was true to her above all else.

“Tell me, Professor Layton—or may I call you ‘Gerald’?”

“You can call me whatever you’d like, Agent Bain.”

She smiled at him. “Good. Now tell me: Did all of this really happen? I mean, about you meeting this—this waif from another dimension?”

“It’s all there in the files,” he said, gesturing to the folder on the table. “And I never called her a waif. She’s a sorceress. There is a difference, you know.”

This answer secretly delighted Alyndia. She maintained her composure and continued pacing, avoiding eye contact, speaking to the cinder block walls as she addressed him. “So how did this sorceress appear to you? Was she ugly? Was she pretty? What did she look like?”

“Alyndia was the natural essence of beauty,” he said, waxing eloquent for the first time. “She had this river of greenish black hair, and sea green eyes, and fair, delicate skin.” He paused for thought. “But what found most fetching in her was her spirit. It was her thoughtfulness and sense of humor. Though her words only came to me through the Box of Tongues, her words and thoughts were quite clear to me.”

Alyndia stopped pacing. She could scarcely breathe. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. She controlled herself.

“What does this Alyndia woman mean to you? Does it matter to you that she did not possess the body of Elise?”

“It does not matter. I only fear what has become of her. She said she was casting an ancient spell that was very risky.” He paused. “She was my friend. How would you feel if you lost your partner?”

She casually walked behind him and began pacing again, slowly, out of his field of vision. He remained gazing fixedly straight ahead.

“Did you love her?” she asked.

He paused for a moment before he answered. “What is all of this to you? Why are you asking me these questions? Are you going to add this to your report?”

“I want to know,” she said. “I want to know for personal reasons.”

He brought his hand to his chin and rubbed his unshaven face. “For some reason, you don’t strike me as the type that cares whether I love her or not.”

Now she stood directly behind his chair. She rested her hands on his shoulders. He jumped a bit when her hands touched him. She squeezed gently, feeling the warmth of his body beneath his shirt. She felt him relax a bit.

“You didn’t answer my question, Gerald. Did you love her?”

“Yes, Agent Bain. If you have to know, I loved her. I loved her with all my heart. I dare say I loved her more than my Elise before the accident.” He wiped his eyes. “I regret what happened to you when you put on that bracelet. But when you did that, I lost someone I’ll never know again. So go ahead—go ahead and prosecute me. I don’t care anymore. Send me to prison if that pleases you and your partner. I can’t say I have reason to be anywhere else.”

“You shouldn’t feel so bad. All may not be lost,” she said softly into his ear. “Maybe the spirit of your lover never faded into the ether. Maybe she’s close to you now. Close enough that she touches you.”

On hearing that, Professor Layton turned and looked at her with eyes wet with tears. “Alyndia?” he asked, astounded.

“I am she.”

Now her eyes too had filled with tears. They ran copiously down her cheek. He rose to his feet, and they embraced.

“Finally, at last, we’re together, Gerald,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulders. “I’ve waited so long to be with you.”

“I was so worried about you, Alyndia.”

“But now I’m here, my love,” she said softly. “There’s no longer any chlorine or glass to separate us. And there’s no longer a Box of Tongues—we now speak the same language with our own voices, just like we breathe the same air. The aperture to my world is shut, and yet I’m still here with you.”

He pulled away from her and gazed into her face.

“I thought you were gone. I felt so guilty about it.”

“I was indeed gone for a while, Gerald. My spirit was lost in the Wild. I’d love to say that it was my skill as a sorceress that guided me into this body, but I think it was more luck than anything else.”

“But where is Agent Bain?”

“The answer to that question is complicated and not very pleasant.”

Professor Layton frowned at this. “Did we kill her?”

“No. I think she’s in Cerinya, where she now occupies my former body.”

“The poor woman. She probably has no idea what happened to her.”

“Don’t pity her, Gerald. She did it to herself. She put on the bracelet. If she hadn’t, you and I would be living happily ever after. And from what I’ve learned of her since I awoke from my coma, good riddance to her by departing from this world.”

“I can’t say I miss her, myself.”

Alyndia told Professor Layton what she knew of Connie Bain, the circumstances of her life, her meeting with Joy, and her plans of meeting Connie’s gravely ill mother.

The professor shook his head in dismay. “Alyndia, you mustn’t do that.”

“Why not? I am only undoing the pain and hurt she caused in her life. I can right this wrong.”

“But it’s her personal life. You shouldn’t meddle in it.”

“What does it matter? She’s not here now, and she’s not coming back.”

“That’s not the point. Whatever happened with Connie and her family has nothing to do with you and me. Getting involved in her past can only complicate things for us. I can see no benefit in it. Besides, you don’t know why things are the way they are. The whole thing might turn into a can of worms for you.”

“Nonsense. It will be very simple. All I have to do is just play Connie for a while, just long enough to heal the pain she has caused her family. Then I’ll quit the CIA, and we can be together always. Gerald, there is so much I want to do with you. This—what we have between us—I’ve wanted it all my life.”

“Oh, Alyndia.”

Professor Layton picked up the folder on the table. He thumbed through the pages within, replete with Polaroid photographs of his lab and some confiscated objects. “We may not be able to do much if I go to prison. I’m innocent. I know this. But Connie and Agent MacGregor believed I’m part of some sort of terrorist conspiracy. And apparently, they’ve created some evidence to support their beliefs.”

Alyndia took the folder from Professor Layton. “Leave it to me. I will make sure they do nothing to you. I’ll fix the files if I have to—anything so that we can be together.”

Now she stood before him, his face close to hers. She went to kiss him. He moved his head back away from her.

“What’s wrong?” Alyndia asked, feeling suddenly hurt. “Don’t you like my new form? Am I not appealing to you?”

“No—it’s—it’s not that at all,” he stammered. “You’re lovely. It’s just that—well—Agent Bain wasn’t exactly a nice person, and you do look exactly like her. What I’m trying to say is that getting to know you the way you look may be difficult. I need some time to shake off my image of her.”

Alyndia smiled. “I understand your feelings,” she said quietly. “But one kiss won’t hurt. Couldn’t you do it once with me to quench the fire I feel inside? I want to feel your lips on mine. Aren’t you at least curious to know what it’s like to kiss a sorceress from another world?”

“Or a CIA agent?”

“Don’t make me laugh,” she said, smiling. “Kiss me, you fool.”

They brought their lips together. The energy from their kiss flowed through their bodies like electricity. Enraptured by the sensation, he stood up, and they embraced fully.

“Do you realize how long I’ve waited for this moment, Gerald?” she whispered softly in his ear.

“I’m so glad you made it here.”

“It’s all for you.”

Again, they kissed, deeply this time. Their passion began to rise. Mesmerized by the sensuous feelings rising between them, they did not notice the door open.

“Connie!” MacGregor shouted.

Startled out of their wits, Alyndia and Gerald immediately parted and backed away from each other. Professor Layton took his seat at the table, and Alyndia backed up to the wall, straightening her blouse and skirt.

“What the hell!” MacGregor said, at a loss for words.

Alyndia smiled sheepishly at Connie’s partner and cleared her throat. “He says he’ll tell us the truth, now.”

Alyndia hadn’t realized it, but her entire interaction with Professor Layton had been observed by MacGregor and recorded. He informed her of this as he drove her to the hospital. Although she felt some embarrassment at this revelation, she worried more about what consequences there would be for Gerald.

“I just don’t know what’s gotten into you, Connie,” he said.

“Nothing you don’t already know about.”

“You’re not well.”

“I’m as well as I’ve ever been. And that was devious of you to record my private interactions with Gerald.”

“How could you say that? You knew very well that the interrogation would be recorded. It’s standard procedure.”

“I don’t care. I hold you responsible.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Say what you want, but I’ll never forgive you.”

Alyndia crossed her arms tightly against her chest as she said this. Hidden inside her coat was Professor Layton’s case folder. She had hidden it there just before they left the police station.

MacGregor pulled the car into the crowded hospital parking lot. He shut off the engine, and they got out.

“What is going to happen here?” Connie asked as they walked toward the main building through the parking lot filled with patchy snow.

“I’m not sure. They’re going to run some tests on you, some things where you have to answer questions.” A pained expression crossed his face. “I think you must know that the agency will be reviewing these records.”

“Is this bad?” Alyndia asked, taking the cue from MacGregor’s expression.

“Not necessarily. But you know these kinds of tests become property of the agency. Since you’ve sustained a head injury on the job, they’re going to review the results of your tests.”

“So?”

“Don’t you get it? If they find there’s a problem with you, you could be kicked out of the agency. You don’t want that, do you?”

“It wasn’t my idea to come here, Will. Do you remember that? You’re the one who insisted that I come here.”

MacGregor sighed heavily, creating a large puff of white mist around his head in the icy air. “Yes, I know, babe,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “Believe me—I know.”

They passed through the lobby and walked up to a front desk where a stout, middle-aged nurse wearing thick glasses sat.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked them.

MacGregor showed the nurse his agency ID card. “I’m Will MacGregor, and this is Constance Bain. She has—uh—an appointment today.”

“Ah, yes,” the nurse said. “Dr. Galbraith has notified me.” She addressed Connie. “How are you today?”

“I’ve guess I’ve been better.”

“I understand,” the nurse said sweetly. She picked up a clipboard with a form attached to it and handed it to Connie, along with a cheap black pen. “Please read through this form carefully and sign and date it at the bottom.”

“What is this document?”

“It gives us permission to treat you.”

Alyndia turned to MacGregor. “Do I have to sign this?”

MacGregor nodded.

The nurse spoke up. “You can sit here in the lobby while you read it. But for now, I’ll have to ask you to move away from the desk. Other people coming in might need access.”

Alyndia looked across the waiting room, drearily lit both by fluorescent lights and the gray light from the parking lot that shone through large windows. People of all ages, most sitting quietly in unbuttoned heavy coats, sat in rows of thinly padded chairs throughout the lobby. Some of them looked bored, some looked ill, and others looked simply as uncomfortable as she did being in that place. The room was filled with the electrical whirring sound of a floor buffer being used in the far side of the lobby, its sound rising and falling both in pitch and loudness. The whole atmosphere of the place drained her spirit on top of the despondence she already felt after the interrogation at the police station. She badly missed Gerald at that moment and would do anything to return to his side as quickly.

“Let’s go sit over there where you can read it,” MacGregor said, pointing to a pair of free chairs in the front row.

“No. I just want to get this over with. Where do I sign?”

After the form was signed, the nurse directed them to the fourth floor, where the staff would be waiting to greet them. She picked up her phone to make a call as soon as they left the desk. MacGregor led Alyndia to the elevator, where they waited without speaking. Once inside, he dutifully pressed a button to the fourth floor. The doors closed. They were alone except for a nicely dressed older couple in their sixties. The woman held a bouquet of red and white carnations wrapped in cellophane and green wax paper. The sweet fragrance of the carnations wafted through the elevator, almost overcoming the sharp, antiseptic smell that permeated the elevator shaft and the rest of the hospital.

MacGregor studied Alyndia. “By the way, where’s the case folder?” he asked, breaking the claustrophobic silence in the elevator.

“Why do you ask?” Alyndia said, wondering if he had seen her conceal the bulky folder in her overcoat.

“Well, that’s the whole enchilada. You know what it took to put all that stuff together. I just don’t want to lose it.”

“Don’t worry. It’s in the car,” she told him, “in the back seat.”

“In the back seat of the car?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Let me get this straight: you left a secret file sitting in the back seat of the car. And it’s there—right now at this moment.”

“The car is locked, isn’t it?”

“Connie, oh Connie,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “You should know you don’t leave secret files on car seats in public parking lots.”

She heard a trace of sadness in his voice as he said this. The reason for this sadness puzzled her.

The elevator doors opened. The two of them exited to a wide, spotless, white-tiled hospital corridor. Along the way to the psychiatric ward, they passed a women’s washroom. Alyndia knew she had her opening. She excused herself from MacGregor to use the washroom. Once inside, after making sure she was alone, she surreptitiously dumped the entire case folder into a bin labeled Medical Waste. She rejoined MacGregor in the corridor.

As soon as they passed through the double doors to the psychiatric ward, Alyndia found two strapping young men wearing white smocks accosted them in the hallway. They watched her intently. She didn’t like the way they were staring at her.

“Here she is,” MacGregor said.

“Are you Connie Bain?” one of the men asked her.

“Yes, I am her,” Alyndia replied, feeling uneasy.

The men approached her. She turned to see MacGregor, but he had backed up to the doorway. At that moment, the two men grabbed her roughly by the arms. She struggled with them momentarily, then held still.

“What is going on here?” she asked MacGregor.

“You’re going to stay with us for a while,” the man answered for him.

Alyndia eyes kept her eyes locked on MacGregor as they gently but firmly backed her away from him and the exit. “You didn’t tell me I’d be staying here!” Her voice was almost a shout now.

“It has to be this way, Connie.”

“Under what grounds? What have I done?”

“You’re a danger to yourself and possibly a danger to others. I’m sorry, babe. It’s for the best.”

“I’m going to tell Watson what you’re doing.”

“This was his idea.”

“You liar!” she shouted.

“Come along with us,” one of the orderlies said as he nudged Connie’s arm a bit more forcefully to guide her down the corridor.

“You betrayed me!” she shouted back at MacGregor, drawing the indifferent, curious stares of the staff and other patients in the corridor. “I hate you for this! Do you hear me? I hate you!”

“I’m sorry, Connie,” MacGregor said, his voice laden with emotion. “This is the way it has to be.”