Read Online Being For The Benefit Of Mr Kite! by Douglas Lindsay - Free Book Online
Authors: Douglas Lindsay
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It was just incredible. Unbelievable. I don't think they would consider me insane, however, they'd just assume I was lying.
The water was still on the desk, half full. The bottle was plastic, however, so there probably wasn't going to be a lot of use in picking it up and taking it to Crosskill's head.
'You said I wasn't going to get anything to eat, then someone brought me food,' I said. 'Was there something in the food?'
'Food?' she asked. She looked at Agent Crosskill. 'I only authorised water. Did you say he could get food?'
Agent Crosskill did a peculiar thing with his lips and shook his head.
'I hope you enjoyed it,' she said. 'Maybe that'll be your last supper.'
I'd hardly noticed the taste. It had been one of those bowls of food that was halfway between soup and stew, and I hadn't even been able to tell if there'd been meat in it.
'The Jigsaw Man,' she said. 'Tell us about the Jigsaw Man.'
Why was it that I didn't want to tell them about the actual Jigsaw Man, the guy who sat at a table in a café doing puzzles and dispensing wisdom? It sounded, somehow, like I was turning him in. I'd feel like a traitor. But why? What was there that I could tell them?
Here I was, consumed by how I'd got off the plane, consumed by how I'd lived for the last six months, kicking myself over the stupidity of how easily I'd walked into their hands, and consumed by how long ago that was, worrying about Brin and how she must be feeling. All the while, the two American agents seemed to be concerned about the Jigsaw Man.
'He was just a guy in a café,' I said suddenly.
I don't think I'd even made the definite decision to say anything. It just happened, like breathing or walking. I was sitting in silence, then suddenly the words were out there, hanging somewhere in space.
'Which café?' asked Agent Crosskill. So he hadn't lost his voice, although it sounded rough.
'In Glasgow,' I said.
'The Stand Alone?' she asked.
I paused before answering, although only because of my surprise. If they already knew that the Jigsaw Man sat in the Stand Alone, quite possibly they already knew as much as I did. And then, suddenly, I realised that they knew a lot more than I did, and they were just looking for anything that might flesh out their knowledge.
'Yes,' I said.
'What was the Jigsaw Man's real name?' she asked.
I'd never known. I shook my head.
'Were you the Jigsaw Man?' asked Agent Crosskill, his voice harsh.
'No.'
'You won't tell us about the Jigsaw Man,' he said. 'You won't tell us why you didn't get on the plane. You're not telling us anything. So, think about your answer. Are you sure you're not the Jigsaw Man?'
Was I the Jigsaw Man? Because I'd sat twice at the Jigsaw Man's table? Did that make me the Jigsaw Man? Was I also to be held accountable for his crimes?
Crimes? Where had that come from?
I wanted to lie down in a warm bed under a thick duvet. It might take me a while to get to sleep, but I'd be able to pull the duvet over my head and shut it all out. Shut them all out.
'Are you the Jigsaw Man?' demanded the woman, her voice suddenly severe.
'No!' I said.
Was I?
'You've been identified as the Jigsaw Man,' said Agent Crosskill. His words came out cold and brutal.
'What?... What?'
'Someone, somewhere, thinks you're the Jigsaw Man,' she said. 'And the Jigsaw Man is wanted in the US on terrorism charges. If found guilty, and there is little doubt that he will be, he will face the death penalty.'
She paused, let those words sink in, then she said, 'Now maybe you might just want to start talking about the Jigsaw Man.'
'The Jigsaw Man's not a terrorist,' I said. I was aware that my voice sounded weak again. Confused. It would have been nice to try to stay on top of the situation, but staying on top of things was not one of my strong points, even when I wasn't sleep-deprived.
'Persuade us otherwise,' said Agent Crosskill.
What were my strong points?
'I don't know what to say,' I said. I felt stupid saying
The water was still on the desk, half full. The bottle was plastic, however, so there probably wasn't going to be a lot of use in picking it up and taking it to Crosskill's head.
'You said I wasn't going to get anything to eat, then someone brought me food,' I said. 'Was there something in the food?'
'Food?' she asked. She looked at Agent Crosskill. 'I only authorised water. Did you say he could get food?'
Agent Crosskill did a peculiar thing with his lips and shook his head.
'I hope you enjoyed it,' she said. 'Maybe that'll be your last supper.'
I'd hardly noticed the taste. It had been one of those bowls of food that was halfway between soup and stew, and I hadn't even been able to tell if there'd been meat in it.
'The Jigsaw Man,' she said. 'Tell us about the Jigsaw Man.'
Why was it that I didn't want to tell them about the actual Jigsaw Man, the guy who sat at a table in a café doing puzzles and dispensing wisdom? It sounded, somehow, like I was turning him in. I'd feel like a traitor. But why? What was there that I could tell them?
Here I was, consumed by how I'd got off the plane, consumed by how I'd lived for the last six months, kicking myself over the stupidity of how easily I'd walked into their hands, and consumed by how long ago that was, worrying about Brin and how she must be feeling. All the while, the two American agents seemed to be concerned about the Jigsaw Man.
'He was just a guy in a café,' I said suddenly.
I don't think I'd even made the definite decision to say anything. It just happened, like breathing or walking. I was sitting in silence, then suddenly the words were out there, hanging somewhere in space.
'Which café?' asked Agent Crosskill. So he hadn't lost his voice, although it sounded rough.
'In Glasgow,' I said.
'The Stand Alone?' she asked.
I paused before answering, although only because of my surprise. If they already knew that the Jigsaw Man sat in the Stand Alone, quite possibly they already knew as much as I did. And then, suddenly, I realised that they knew a lot more than I did, and they were just looking for anything that might flesh out their knowledge.
'Yes,' I said.
'What was the Jigsaw Man's real name?' she asked.
I'd never known. I shook my head.
'Were you the Jigsaw Man?' asked Agent Crosskill, his voice harsh.
'No.'
'You won't tell us about the Jigsaw Man,' he said. 'You won't tell us why you didn't get on the plane. You're not telling us anything. So, think about your answer. Are you sure you're not the Jigsaw Man?'
Was I the Jigsaw Man? Because I'd sat twice at the Jigsaw Man's table? Did that make me the Jigsaw Man? Was I also to be held accountable for his crimes?
Crimes? Where had that come from?
I wanted to lie down in a warm bed under a thick duvet. It might take me a while to get to sleep, but I'd be able to pull the duvet over my head and shut it all out. Shut them all out.
'Are you the Jigsaw Man?' demanded the woman, her voice suddenly severe.
'No!' I said.
Was I?
'You've been identified as the Jigsaw Man,' said Agent Crosskill. His words came out cold and brutal.
'What?... What?'
'Someone, somewhere, thinks you're the Jigsaw Man,' she said. 'And the Jigsaw Man is wanted in the US on terrorism charges. If found guilty, and there is little doubt that he will be, he will face the death penalty.'
She paused, let those words sink in, then she said, 'Now maybe you might just want to start talking about the Jigsaw Man.'
'The Jigsaw Man's not a terrorist,' I said. I was aware that my voice sounded weak again. Confused. It would have been nice to try to stay on top of the situation, but staying on top of things was not one of my strong points, even when I wasn't sleep-deprived.
'Persuade us otherwise,' said Agent Crosskill.
What were my strong points?
'I don't know what to say,' I said. I felt stupid saying
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