Kill Shot

Chapter 42
THE interrogation room was used most often for debriefing assets, but occasionally it had been used for rougher stuff. The walls were painted off white and the floors were plain concrete. A six-by-four-foot metal table was anchored in the center of the room. Hurley sat on one side and Victor on the other. As much as Stansfield was inclined to authorize the screws being put to Victor, he thought there was a better way to proceed, so he calmly looked through the one-way glass and watched Stan Hurley walk Victor through the events of the last fourteen hours.

Kennedy approached the glass and said, "Sir, I think you need to hear what Thomas has to say."

Stansfield looked at Kennedy and nodded. Dr. Lewis joined them at the glass and asked, "Have you been reading all of my reports?"

"Most of them."

With a thorough man like Stansfield, that meant that either his reports had ceased to be important or that he was swamped with other work. Lewis took this in stride. "Have you read my most recent reports on Victor?"

"No." Stansfield watched Victor's face and listened to his voice as it was played over the ceiling speakers.

"Bramble, or Victor as most of the men call him, has become increasingly difficult to deal with."

"Most of the people in this outfit are difficult to deal with," Stansfield said without a hint of humor. "But continue."

"He is not well liked."

"I assume you mean by Mitch."

"Yes, and pretty much by everyone else."

"That's not true," Stansfield interjected. "Stan and Victor get along fine."

"That's because Victor is his trained dog," Kennedy said.

"And Stan would say the same thing about you and Mitch."

"Victor and Mitch are very different people." Looking at Lewis she said, "Explain."

Lewis nodded and turned his focus on Stansfield. "In my last report I outlined several serious concerns about Victor. I have noticed an extensive contempt and abuse of the rights of others. He is deceitful and lies to his colleagues with ease, especially if it will lead to his own personal gain. He is extremely irritable and aggressive and is prone to fighting even at the least hint of a slight. He has a reckless disregard for the safety of others, often manifesting itself in practical jokes that only he finds humorous. He shows almost no remorse when he hurts one of the recruits . . . in fact I think he takes a perverse joy in inflicting pain on others."

Stansfield drummed his fingers on the ledge in front of the glass for a second. "You just described a good portion of the men I've worked with over the years," he lamented.

Lewis cleared his throat. "On the surface it may sound like that, and you undoubtedly have worked with many tough men who share one or two of these qualities, Stan being chief among them, but I can assure you, there are seven traits that outline antisocial personality disorder and Victor has all seven."

Stansfield looked away from the interrogation and regarded the doctor. "How many does Stan have?"

"Three . . . maybe four."

"And me?" Stansfield asked with a straight face.

"Only one," Lewis said, and then with a slight smile he said, "but then again I would need more time to properly observe you . . . but I wouldn't worry. As a general rule you need to have at least four of the traits to be classified with the disease."

"And Mitch, how many does he have?"

"Just one or two."

"This assessment of yours . . . how serious is it?"

"Very."

"And you're confident that if I brought in someone else for a second opinion that person would reach the same conclusions."

"Very confident."

"Can this problem be resolved with treatment?"

Lewis waffled for a second and then shook his head. "It would take a great deal of time and effort and the patient would have to be willing."

Looking through the glass Stansfield asked, "And do you think Victor would be willing to undergo treatment?"

"No."

Stansfield stared through the glass and said, "Stan's not going to like this."

"No he isn't, but he's blind to the realities of the problem. This is far bigger than Stan and who he likes or dislikes. I put all of this in my report. People like Victor are extremely volatile. They usually end up in jail, or financially ruined, or both."

Stansfield stepped back from the glass. "We don't recruit Boy Scouts to this work. You two both know that. The Boy Scouts are all over at the FBI. We need guys who are willing to bend the rules . . . do certain things that your average mentally stable individual would never consider."

Lewis nodded and said, "And you hired me to keep an eye on things . . . to make sure we have guys who know not to cross certain lines, and I'm telling you Victor will cross any line as long as it helps him get what he wants."

"You know I called Stan last night and I told him to pull Victor and his team?"

Lewis nodded.

"Victor claims they were in the process of packing up when Rapp sent in the decoy."

"I'm aware."

"Do you believe him?"

Lewis measured his response. "I'm not sure I believe anything Victor says."

"Anything else?"

"It's one thing to have him down at the farm brutalizing recruits . . . but turning him loose in Paris . . ." Lewis shook his head. "That was a bad idea."

"And why didn't you bring this to my attention sooner?"

"I did put much of this in my most recent report."

Stansfield turned his cold, gray, calculating eyes on the doctor. "I receive a lot of reports. Why didn't you come to me?"

Lewis sighed and said, "I wasn't there when he was recruited, but over the past year, I've grown increasingly concerned. And then there's Stan to consider."

"What about him?"

"The two of you are very loyal to each other."

"We have a history, Tom, but I know how Stan ticks."

"Permission to be brutally honest, sir?"

Stansfield knew this was the Green Beret coming out in the doctor, and he also knew that if he was asking for permission it was to say something that would be highly critical of Stansfield. He had never been afraid of the truth so he said, "Permission granted."

"You have a blind spot where Stan is concerned. I have tried repeatedly to bring certain things to your attention and so has Irene, but you brush us off. I understand that the man has a storied career, and he undoubtedly has his uses, but putting him in charge of the recruiting and training of these men, I fear, was a huge mistake. And Victor is exhibit A. The man should have washed out years ago."

Looking back through the one-way glass, Stansfield asked, "So what do you recommend I do about this problem?"

"Send Victor packing and do it as quickly as possible."

"And if he doesn't want to quit?"

The blue-eyed shrink and former Green Beret hesitated for a second and then said, "You should have him eliminated."

This was far more serious than Stansfield had expected. He knew Lewis as a thoughtful man who was very thorough about his recommendations. This was the first time in three years that he had suggested such a thing. Stansfield had no illusions about who he was. He'd killed men before and he'd ordered men killed. It was part of his job description. "I'll take all of this under advisement." Stansfield left the mirror and then stopped and looked back at Lewis. "And what would you have me do with Stan?"

Lewis had some very strong opinions on the subject, but he was not so presumptuous as to think that he should offer them to Stansfield. "You know him better than any of us, sir. I think you are more than capable of making that decision on your own."

The faintest of smiles creased Stansfield's mouth. "You're a smart man, Tom. I appreciate your honesty."