"Hello, Eisenhower."
A pale hand makes a fist in the gloom of the interrogation room.
His voice is deep and guttural,"you know I hate that name."
"I know." The other is calm, collected, silky smooth.
"So, how can I help you, mister...?" he lets the sentence trail off in a question. His blue eyes glitter mockingly as he purrs the words out.
"My name is not important. What is important is why you are here Mr. Eisenhower."
"I said. Don't. call. Me. Eisenhower." the pale fist comes down on the table.
"There's no reason to get testy. I am well aware of your capabilities." the voice is still cool. Cold even, calculating, perfectly controlled.
The pale fist moves from its spot on the table. A fist-shaped dent marks its previous location.
"You still haven't told me your name." He's furious now and it's evident in every syllable.
"You are correct. In the spirit of full disclosure, you can call me Jason." there's a slight, perfectly measured pause, "Now, it's time to get down to business."
The silky voice belongs to a man in an exquisitely tailored suit, a face decorated with well-trimmed stubble, and a determined steely stare on his hawkish features. "As I said before, what's important is why you're here."
"So,Jason." the prisoner growls, his discolored eyes glinting with something close to ferocity, "let's talk about why I'm here."
"Yes, Eisenhower. the reason you're here is because we need you to do something for us."
"And why should I do anything for you?"
"Because I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse."
Eisenhower laughs, a deep cackle.
"Try me."
YOU ARE READING
The Collection
Short StoryAn ongoing Collection of my short stories and other creative endeavors. Dark, Light Tragic, Humorous Romantic, Vengeful Fantastic, Mundane Strange all.
