[ WP ] A stranger approaches you on the street , hands you a gun and a million dollars cash , and says `` you know what to do . '' What happens next ?

I ’ m very familiar with this room, it ’ s in the basement of 316 S. 3rd St., it used to be the home of a drug dealer until the city took it over after the DEA raided it 18 years ago. I ’ m in a room that had been installed by the previous owner as a safe room. There is only one entrance and one exit, the red door with the peeling paint. The marks on the floor by the door is from when I was being trained how to handle an aggressive interrogator and still tied to a chair, thrown towards the wall, metal chair scraping until I hit the door head first. There ’ s traces of blood in the northwest corner where later I got to get some revenge by being the interrogator two days later. This is a safe house in upstate New York where the CIA sends recruits and veteran agents to keep their interrogation skills razor sharp. 
 
 For three hours I ’ ve been handcuffed to this chair, I ’ ve been wanting to take a piss for about two and a half. Any moment now, a colleague of mine will walk through the door and begin laying out evidence that I committed a crime and that he or she knows of my involvement of said crime. They will quash any denial and may even try to soften me up with a baseball bat or if I ’ m lucky, just their fists. I been through this countless times and I will experience it countless more times. 
 
 The red door opens and a lady walks in that I have never seen before, she must be a recruit. I try to not let my extended glance show my surprise. Tall and slim, 5 ’ 8 ” and 120 lbs. Dark brown hair pulled back into a pony tail. A light smattering of makeup, base, eye liner and light red lipstick. She ’ s carrying a clipboard in her left hand and shuts the door with her right hand. She ’ s between twenty and twenty-five years old. 
 
 Female: “ Darrel Simmons. Thirteen years with the Central Intelligence Agency, recruited right out of Rutgers. Graduated with honors with a B.A. in sociology in three years, two years of varsity archery. Two foreign languages, Arabic and French. Family. Mother deceased, father is retired from Ford Motors and lives in Detroit. One sibling, David Simmons, married to Ezekial Cunningham. You are Agent Darrell Simmons, if I ’ m not mistaken? ” 
 
 She has a slight New Englander accent, I can ’ t smell any perfume, but I do smell the same deodorant my last girlfriend used, Dove antiperspirant and deodorant. 
 
 Simmons: “ Yes ma ’ am. ” 
 
 We are taught to be as cooperative as possible without giving up as much vital information as possible. Gather as much information about your interrogator as possible. In the event that important information is revealed, the agent is to report back so that damage control can begin right away. 
 
 Female: “ I think you and I can skip the formalities and jump right into the issue at hand. Two days ago you shot and killed a member of the Saudi Royal Family. We have video of the incident, we have the weapon you used, we also have transcripts of you communicating with a German ex-pat, Hans Tragen. We aren ’ t looking for a confession, we want you to tell us why you betrayed your country and put countless agents in danger. ” 
 
 This is not what I expected. I ’ m not one-hundred percent sure what ’ s going on here. My first conclusion is this female is a recruit and this is a scenario being run for training purposes. It ’ d be a perfect opportunity to simulate an agent going rouge and cross examine me at the same time, too good of an opportunity to pass up. A red flag is that she ’ s deviated from protocol, right now she should be fabricating a plausible scenario where I have betrayed my country for money or some other valuable asset, like the well being of a family member. But, she ’ s skipped that and moved passed a confession. Maybe she ’ s trying impress someone. Maybe I ’ m getting burned. I decide to tread carefully and collect more information. 
 
 Simmons: “ I would like to use the restroom. ” 
 
 Female: “ Please, be my guest. ” She makes no movement to release me. 
 
 Simmons: “ I ’ m still handcuffed to the chair. ” she doesn ’ t change her expression “ Never mind. ” 
 
 Female: “ Why don ’ t you start at the beginning. Tell me who this Hans Tragen is. ” 
 
 She ’ s not sitting down, instead she paces around the room. 
 
 Simmons: “ You know who Hans Tragen is, if you ’ re interrogating me, you read the reports I ’ ve submitted on him for the last three months. ” 
 
 Female: “ That ’ s interesting, the CIA doesn ’ t have any record of any reports you have submitted regarding Mr. Tragen. ” 
 
 For a moment I ’ m very aware of the smell of the room. It ’ s always kept at a very uncomfortable 50 degrees fahrenheit. The furnace has just kicked in and it smells like dust, nobody has been here for a while. 
 
 Simmons: “ That ’ s preposterous, get my CASE officer on the phone, we ’ ve talked at length about Hans Tragen. ” 
 
 Female: “ I see we aren ’ t getting anywhere down this path. Tell me about the incident where you killed Ammar Yasir Darzi. ” 
 
 I submitted a lengthy report the same day I had shot and killed Darzi. 
 
 Simmons: “ So, are you new with the agency? I haven ’ t seen you around. ” 
 
 Female: “ This conversation isn ’ t about you getting to know me, it ’ s about me getting to know you. Please, tell me about the day you killed Ammar Yasir Darzi. ” 
 
 Simmons: “ I received my license to kill Darzi from my CASE officer November 8th in the form of an email with instructions to wait for a meeting with my cousin the following day, November 9th. On my way to get coffee at 6:32am, I was approached by a man dressed in a very nice suit that handed me a case and whispered “ You know what to do. ” I continued to the coffee shop and when I returned to my hotel room I verified that I had received one-million dollars in hundred dollar bills and a.32 caliber revolver. At 10:15am I met with Hans Tragen and he escorted me to the site of Darzi ’ s latest purchase, a new home in La Jolla California. It took 45 minutes to drive there. My cover was as a employee of Citi Bank, the bank handling the transfer of $ 28,000,000 to the real estate company. I met with Ammar Darzi and walked with him and his entourage for thirty minutes as he inspected the 15,000 sq/ft mansion. I had been patted down when I arrived, but before-hand I snuck into the home and planted my revolver. As Darzi was inspecting the kitchen, I excused myself to the bathroom and retrieved my revolver. Returning I laid out a couple of contracts for Darzi to sign on the kitchen table. As I reached into my coat pocket for a pen, I brandished my revolver and fired six rounds into his chest and escaped through the glass sliding door I left open during our tour of the complex. I had been shot once in the shoulder, Tragen drove me to a doctor who patched me up. ” 
 
 Female: “ That ’ s a pretty good story. But, once again it looks like we aren ’ t getting anywhere. Let me be candid with you. ” 
 
 She pulls out the other chair and sits down in front of me across the table. She favors weight with the left side of her body, maybe an old sports injury. 
 
 Female: “ There ’ s currently a manhunt for you going on in southern California. The Saudi Royal Family is clamoring for you to be handed over once you ’ re found. You are very lucky we found you before anyone else did. Now, this is where normally I would say ‘ You are among friends here, we want you to help you ’ but as you already know, the CIA doesn ’ t take too kindly to traitors. Yet, we still want to help you and I see we ’ re going to have to encourage you to let us help you. ” 
 
 She leaves the room. It ’ ll be interesting to see how long she ’ ll wait to come back, maybe another colleague will introduce themselves. I ’ ve included a couple of inaccuracies in my story that if she is in-fact a member of the CIA and read my report I should get much longer, more thorough interrogation session. If she is not, well, it ’ s better to burn out than fade away. Either way, now is as good of a time as any to piss myself. 
 
 The red door opens and she enters the room, this time flanked by two large men. Both Caucasian, mid to late thirties. One 6 ’ 3 ” 225 lbs, the other two inches shorter, but maybe a few pounds heavier. 
 
 Female: “ Good news. ” It ’ s not. “ We believe you. ” They don ’ t. “ These two will escort you to the bathroom. ” They probably will. “ We need to get you ready to be debriefed, but first we picked up dinner for you. ” It ’ s most likely from the Korean place around the corner. “ We ’ ll start in thirty minutes, I ’ ll set up the camera. ” I wonder which one of them will clean the contents of my skull from the bath tub.
