13 : Shadow

Then who was? He was very difficult to work with: he kept trying to get away and I had to trip him and catch him before he could hit the ground or the concrete column that was somewhere near us. If I didn't catch him each time he was going to hurt himself because he had absolutely no idea how to fall. 'What did you tell them?' I asked him again. He wouldn't answer, and that was another thing that made it difficult. I had to ask him everything two or three times and then work on a nerve until he got the message. But even then I didn't know when he was lying. I've never met anybody so difficult. 'What did you tell them, when you went into that phone box?' 'It was to tell my wife I would be late.' 'Not that time. I mean two days ago, on Wednesday. You phoned the police and they tried to pick me up. What did you tell them?' 'I didn't tell them anything. I -' 'Oh come on, Ignatov!' Used a centre-knuckle on the medial: he hated that. 'What did you tell them?' I was getting annoyed because someone might come in here and make things awkward. Bracken had gone, five minutes ago: all he'd needed was a close look at Ignatov, and it was too dangerous for him to stay where the action was because he was ostensibly a member of the British Embassy staff and they could throw him out of the country if he came under any kind of suspicion. Ignatov wasn't answering. 'You'd never seen me before in your life and you went into a phone box and called the police and they came right away so what did you tell them?' 'It was not me.' 'What do you mean it wasn't you? Come on !' 'I did what I was ordered.' He crouched over, hugging his arm because it had needed another jab to get that much out of him. But it sounded interesting. Who had ordered him? The Judas? 'Ignatov,' I said, 'I want you to understand the position. I can do a lot of things to you that would make you give me the answers I want, but it could cripple you for life and I don't see any point, do you?' He was still bent over, trying to get some of the feeling back into his left arm. I'd been leaving his right arm alone for the moment in case I wanted him to drive me anywhere: I didn't know what was going to happen yet. 'I'm going to get the answers out of you in any case, so why damage yourself?' He was breathing much too hard for a man of maybe thirty-five or forty, though he was a bit overweight and of course he was nervous. It's harder to make them understand when they haven't had any training because they've never learned what you can do to them. 'Have you any children, Ignatov?' 'Three, yes, three children.' He said it quickly because this was where his heart was, in his family. 'All right, do you want them to have to push you about in a wheelchair? You want them to help feed you? Listen to what I'm saying. Use your imagination. A wheelchair.' Something went past along the street and a faint rhomboid of light swept across the columns and faded out. I didn't want anyone to come in here until I'd got what I needed from him. 'So we'll start again. Who ordered you to get me picked up in the street?' I gave him five seconds and then covered him in fast light blows with a lot of control and the focus on the nerve centres so that he didn't even know what was happening. Then I had to wait until he could stand upright again. 'That was nothing, Ignatov. I didn't touch your face and I didn't touch your groin. I'm going to work on those next. Who ordered you?' He whispered a name but I didn't catch it because his system was in shock. 'Who? Say it again.' 'Zubarev.' 'What was that? Zubarev?' 'Yes.' He nodded and went on nodding like one of those dolls with a weight in its head. 'Yes.' Some more light came and this time it got very bright and the concrete columns stood out, row after row of them as the car came down the ramp and turned and parked with its nose against the wall, the light spreading and dimming and then going out. I put one arm round Ignatov's throat and left it there while we waited. He got the message this time and didn't try to do anything about it. A flashlight beam