Suspicion

Chapter 3

Noise woke her. Without thinking, Jones grabbed the other pillow and crammed it over her head. No good. She was now even more awake as the cold fabric hit her face. She gave a long groan and struggled into a sitting position. What was up? The noise got rhythmically louder. Another yawn, then she realized that someone was pounding on her door and shouting her name.

Swearing, she grabbed her ratty bathrobe and took her time finding her slippers. Why did one always seem to disappear? The pounding grew louder and her name was interspersed with some interesting adjectives. She made a small sound of triumph as the missing slipper was found under a shopping bag. Slipping her feet into the relative warmth of the slippers, she shuffled over to the door and stood there, trying to identify the voice. It didn’t match any of the professors or the Headmaster. Maybe she could ignore it and go back to sleep.

Some kind of conversation followed. Several voices. Then, her door glowed briefly. Someone was trying to break her wards. Interesting. Sitting on the edge of her desk, she watched as the door glowed again and again. She lit her first cigarette of the day and admired her work. Nothing like a good set of wards, set in her own blood, to make a place secure. The voices got louder, angrier. She stubbed out the butt and went back to get dressed. She had already held them up long enough to make the interview unpleasant. Might as well be dressed when she met whomever it was outside. No reason to give them any upper hand.

Fully dressed, armed with sarcasm and a deep need for coffee, she exited her office. Six Aurors stood in the hall, wands drawn and looking very frustrated. "Good wards, huh?" She flashed a smile and began to walk down to the staff room. "Usual, right?"

The room was already filled with the others sitting around the table and more Aurors. The entire Northern District must be stuffed into the small staff room. She got herself a cup of coffee as the rest of the black uniformed men marched into the room. Seating herself at the table, she saw that the rest of the staff looked properly sleep-deprived. It must be early, she thought as she sipped what tasted like yesterday’s coffee. Rabe hadn’t shaved yet and he was the early bird, a thought that made her unfortunately laugh out loud.

"What is so funny, Professor Jones?" Werner spun away from his lieutenants to face her.

"Nothing. Is this yesterday’s coffee?" She tried to look as innocent as possible, especially since she had no clue as to what was going on.

Werner turned back to his men and ignored the assembled professors. She slouched in her chair and listened to the soft mumble of conversation of the Aurors and the drip of the faucet. It became white noise and she drifted back to sleep.

Bang! Jerking awake, she saw the large book that had been dropped onto the table and looked up to see the unpleasant sight of Werner sneering at her. It was going to be one of those days. She squirmed upright and looked straight ahead. It had an ugly familiarity. Just like home. She already had a locator spell on her and a binding spell from Durmstrang. Now what would these Aurors want to put on her?

Werner had a soft voice, the kind that can make even the most ugly threats sound pleasant. A voice that made you want to help, to cooperate. Already cynical from similar encounters, Jones squinted at him as he addressed them and decided he wasn’t half bad looking, but he was still a cop. She ignored what Werner was saying and made a study of him. Not too tall, longish brown hair with a lot of gray, odd pale eyes, on the thin side. Not too bad looking at all. She decided that the black uniform helped, too. He talked too much. Minutes passed and he was still talking. Glancing around the table, she saw that the others were nodding along with Werner. Wonder why? Well, it might help that they all spoke German and didn’t have to wait for the translation spells to catch up. The time lag made it very easy to ignore people when she didn’t want to listen. It was one of her worst habits. She waited until he paused and then made a conscious effort to pay attention. If he was like any of the other cops she had dealt with, he would start over again in a few minutes, trying to elicit information using a different tactic. He began to speak again, obviously recapping what he had said before, and her attention began to wander at once. No real information, no timeline, just vagueries. He was trying to get someone to talk.

Silence held the room when Werner finished his spiel again. The faucet dripped and voices drifted in from outside. Jones realized it was a game day and students were shouting at each other, supporting one team or the other. Some Saturday.

Nodding to himself, Werner left the room and his men stepped forward, one to a professor. This did not look good. When the boss leaves and the bit players all get to have a starring role… Jones had experienced similar situations during questioning before. She had never told the witch hunt anything they could use, but she had always had a chance to prepare before, to hit herself with her protective spells, the dimmer spells that would hold the pain back and, if necessary, to put herself to sleep. The sweat trickled down her neck.

They started with Kessler. Kessler answered all of their questions, produced his wand, which yielded nothing they were looking for. A smile passed among the Aurors and then they began their real interrogation. They used the binding spell’s form of the Cruciatus Curse to try and wring any information out of him. Jones winced as Kessler fell to his knees and made that awful sucking sound as the pain hit his nerves. Not good at all. They stopped the spell and began questioning again. Kessler answered all of the questions again, not giving them anything they wanted. It began again. They repeated the horrible sequence three times before they decided that Kessler had nothing to share, leaving him in an unconscious heap on the floor, his breathing ragged and labored.

Jones swallowed hard. If it did that to Kessler who was three times her size… She stared straight ahead as they came for Wronski.

Wronski was far more vocal than Kessler. He didn’t care what anyone thought of his bravery or stoicism. He screamed when they activated the spell. When they halted the pain to ask more question, he cursed them in English, German and in some gibberish that might have been pain only. He had nothing for them and they gave up in two tries.

Haken was hauled out of his chair next. They were nicer to Haken than they had been to either Wronski or Kessler, but they still used the binding spell’s awful pain. Haken knew nothing. He tried very hard to make them happy but he couldn’t answer their questions.

Rabe squawked as his sequence started, passing out after only a few seconds. The Aurors shook their heads and hauled him over to the couch where he was ignored.

Lowenstein stood up before they could lay hands on him. He looked fully awake for a change, his yellow eyes were narrowed and his usually calm handsome face was set for a fight. They circled him, but they broke off and left him standing there. Lowenstein was too lazy. They enjoyed harassing him. With a wave of a hand, he was sent away.

Gregorov slumped lower over the table. The black uniformed pack worked him at the table. Front row seating Jones thought as she watched Gregorov’s body spasm from the questioning. She grit her teeth in anticipation of her turn. They took their time with Gregorov. They had developed a rhythm and were enjoying their work. But, in the end, they got nothing from him. His unconscious form lay sprawled over the tabletop.

Jones found herself grabbed under her arms by two of them. They hauled her upright and held her there. She hated feeling this small. Steeling herself, she started the litanies that had kept her going during previous interrogations. She cycled them through her head as quickly as she could, trying to ignore the men in front of her. The last time she had gone through anything like this, she had had to flee the country, but there was nowhere else to go now.

The man in front of her was talking, but she didn’t understand. Her brain had gone blank, the spell wasn’t working properly in her current state. "Ich verste das nicht…" was all she managed to stammer. I don’t understand. She repeated it over and over. The main interrogator stepped back and conferred with one of the others. She could smell her own fear - its sharp, sweaty smell invaded her nostrils. It bought her time to clear her mind and take stock of the situation. She was screwed. She had no idea what was going on.

It was only moments, but time had lost its meaning to her. Without a warning, she was slammed back into her chair. She tried to look as small as possible, hoping that the inherent chauvinism of the region would take over and they would dismiss her as a woman. Part of her was completely disgusted. She was one of the most powerful people in the room. How could she let herself play the "I’m just a woman" card? Shut up was all the rest of her brain screamed. Shut up and play dead. She had only to look across the table at Gregorov to decide that the whiny half of her was probably right.

That left de Rais. The Aurors turned as a body to face the quiet man. De Rais smiled and stood. He seemed almost cheerful as they advanced on him. One of the men made as to grab him and De Rais stepped aside, giving that officer a disdainful look. "You may question me, but do not touch me. I do not permit rabble like you to handle me." Centuries of class distinctions took over and the Aurors took a step back. De Rais appeared to expect more and the men responded with less aggression.

Jones was impressed. How did he do that? Maybe there was something to this nobility thing? How did she know Gilles was a blue blood? With that kind of an attitude, he had to be. She immediately pulled herself in smaller when one of the Aurors looked in her direction. Small. Think small. Be harmless.

She watched and listened as the hitherto vicious crew respectfully began questioning De Rais. De Rais appeared to be bored. "Je prefer l’francais." It was an order.

The interrogator was immediately flustered. He didn’t speak French. Didn’t they all speak German? Someone sent for Werner as they buzzed with confusion. De Rais settled himself against the table. He smiled and waited.

Werner entered the room slowly, wandering over as if he didn’t notice the crumpled forms all around. Jones made herself as small as she could. Werner was Swiss, not German or Russian, and had less preconceived notions about women. Facing De Rais, Werner made a mockery of a sweeping bow and then began the questioning in softly accented French. De Rais’ smile grew as he listened.

For the first time in years, Jones wished she had paid attention in French class. She had taken a year of it in high school, but that had been a very long time ago. When De Rais spoke, she could only pick out a word here and there, but it sounded gorgeous. She forgot herself and propped her head up on her hands to listen. De Rais used his hands for emphasis and the movements with the voice were mesmerizing. She could have sat there all day.

Werner appeared to be under its spell, too. He stood there, also smiling, but slowly appeared to become puzzled. He didn’t understand all of what he was hearing. The phrases weren’t quite what he expected, the words weren't quite right. It was lovely, almost like a play, but it wasn’t…right.

De Rais continued talking, his elegant hands describing along with his voice. Jones watched as Werner’s eyes seemed to glaze over. She stopped paying attention to De Rais and began watching the Auror. Werner seemed different: quiet, still…obedient. De Rais’ smile vanished, but his voice remained silky. Werner turned around, motioned for his men and they all left. The room was suddenly empty of Aurors and only she was conscious to see it.

"Wow!" she said, gazing at de Rais as if he was a movie star. "That was amazing."

De Rais appeared startled. He had forgotten that she was there. "It was nothing. They will not return today." With that, he left, stepping over Kessler and Haken as he did so.