“What are your terms?” he demands.
My thinking head shifts into gear. I have thought about this question for years, so I have experience of what I want and how to play the answer. I have to be clever and not to let my emotions get the better of me. I lay out my terms in a smooth but consistent manner, spelling it out slowly and watching for a flicker of recognition or glimmer of motion from their stone like faces.
Their faces change instantly, some of them laughing. I smile back, demonstrating that my demands were no joke, no laughing matter. The FBI agents are starting to get on my nerves and my blood is pumping, increasing, heating up … I am ready to blow. I manage to control myself yet I felt like I am a bull poised for the red rag, ready to rage.
I direct my attention to the main agent. Suddenly he speaks,
“Who did it Bannister?”
All that pent up rage and inner bull disintegrates trickling down the drain like the sweat from my brow and immediately it all changes into laughter. He looks at me like I was some sort of clown! I stop and try to control myself. With that smile still on my face I explain, “You think I am just going to tell you? I need a guarantee that I’ll get my ass out of here and get my terms”.
I was hoping through my tone and language they realise that I was starting to get agitated. They all glance over each other, giving looks that I could not figure out. They start to murmur, pretending not to care and look away, but my ears are trained on them, listening to every vibration like a lion listening to its prey.
I start thinking about my family, what my dad would think!
(Flashback Starts): My Dad was a Marine, the toughest man I knew!
I told him one day that I was a high school prefect. He looked at me, not totally concentrating on what I said.
Then he spoke sternly “second place ain’t bad”.
I remember his face when I got sentenced to 10 years. He came to every hearing, every deposition. A face that I had never seen before. After all these years that tough, emotionless face disappeared replaced by a scared, lonely look. There was nothing I could do! I got sentenced for 10 years, for a crime I did not know I was committing. (Flashback End)
These emotions are slowly starting to seep their way back into my mind. By the time they finish discussing I am already in deep thought. I shake my head and focus again, baffled by their quick discussion. I am ready to hear the news.
“We will take up that offer” Westlake spoke softly.
My head twitches, like someone had smacked me with a hammer. I‘m leaving, getting outta here. These emotions and feelings vanish as I am too shocked with the news! I break a small smile and some thankful laughter, mainly to show these fools I was grateful. But my hatred for the Government still has not changed. They’re responsible for my sentence, they’re responsible for my Dad’s disheartened face and they’re responsible for my misery!
I leave the room, not thinking twice what I will do when I get out.