You can read all previous chapters for Treason of Fate HERE.
One of Vicente’s earliest interrogations had ended in disaster for one simple reason: taking notes.
The guy had just started spilling his guts about a myriad of bribes dished out to local officials on behalf of a mid-level mobster and it seemed important to write all the names down. But the second that notepad came out, and Vicente looked at the paper instead of the guy—the confession slowed down. The guy got distracted, then froze, blurting out, “Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. I want a lawyer.”
It was a good lesson and he was glad he’d learned it early on. Once the mark starts talking, do not do one single thing to distract them from their purpose. And Shannan Fitzroy was talking, her words painting an absolutely insane picture of names, dates, and times that his fingers itched to write down. How could he possibly remember all this to put in his report?
But he didn’t reach for the notepad in his jacket pocket. Nor did he reach for her hand when she told him what it was like to be under Julio’s control… or what Vicente was like as an old man.
It was disgusting. Enraging.
He thought of little Julito, just a little baby, who giggled hysterically whenever Vicente blew on his belly. The idea that he would grow into a man who could do something like that…
I’ll be dead before I let my boy become that creep.
He was sweating, the effort of keeping his attention locked on Shannan wearing on him. Her forehead shone with sweat as well, and he wondered if Anit had fooled with the temperature. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just the stress of recounting everything she’d been through.
Her voice shook as she described meeting Isabella while on her assigned trip in 927 Britain. Then how she’d decided to travel forward to 2114 to convince Alfredo to undo the damage to the timeline.1
“It’s funny,” she’d said, letting out a nervous giggle. “I always tested high, IQ-wise. But I was so dumb to go there. So. Fucking. Stupid.”
The last words came out as a hiss, and again, he had to restrain himself from comforting her. Paternalism would only make her defensive, more invested in her rage, rather than moving onto the next part of the story.
He was no longer confused about why she was so different from the girl he’d read about in the psych write-up. Gone was the studious people pleaser. And for good reason. Whatever impression she’d had that people were inherently good had been proven wrong by everyone she encountered in this alternate future.
Well, almost everyone.
“Okay, so this Councilman, Syed, rescued you. Is that when you got my son’s blood on you? During the fight at the time travel depot?” he asked, resisting the impulse to wipe his brow.2
She nodded. “Probably. I’m sorry it got you in trouble.”
He forced himself to smile, determined to look kind and welcoming. “I’m not here because I’m in trouble. I’m here because they thought I’d be the best person to talk to you. And I think they were right.”
Another nod, her eyes settling on her chained hands before leaning forward and wiping her face awkwardly on the sleeves of her prison oranges. She sat back up with a sigh, resetting her gaze on his face, both of them ignoring the thick streak of sweat she’d left on her sleeve.
“After Syed freed you, what did you do?” He tried not to sound too eager with the question, but he had a feeling this was the part Anit would be the most interested in.
“With Julio unconscious, Syed brought me inside the Launch Depot and he sent us to 1688 London. We got to the stables at exactly the right moment—stopped Alfredo from getting into the fight that resulted in John Churchill’s death. And then I came home. Easy. Well, until I was arrested.”
Her lips stretched into a sarcastic smile.
“Did you tell Alfredo what you were there to stop?” A curt nod. “And how did he react?”
“Horrified. Grateful to me. Scared of what could have been… he was also worried things might still be different when he went home.”
Vicente kept his face fixed in blank sympathy as he nodded. “And Monica? Was she there too?”
A pause. The slightest purse of her lips. “She wasn’t there. At Whitehall. I’m assuming she was back at their meetup point.”
Liar. It was subtle, but it was there. Up until this point, every word of Shannan’s statement rang true, her affect consistent with someone telling the truth… and someone who’d survived trauma.
Now the mask had slipped. Only slightly, but it was enough.
“I spoke to Monica and Alfredo yesterday. They said they didn’t know you very well.”
“They don’t.” She was quick to agree, eager to affirm the narrative. “Monica was a good roommate. She minded her own business, you know. And Alfredo… he seems like a nice guy. I don’t think he should be punished for something he MIGHT have done. On accident at that. I stopped Churchill from dying and the timeline is intact. No harm. No foul. Honestly, I don’t know if he even told Monica. He might be too embarrassed.”
She looked over his shoulder, directly into the mirror behind him.
“Far be it from me to presume you have one speck of decency, but I hope you won’t ruin his life over nothing.”
“His poor judgment and impulse control aren’t nothing,” Vicente said softly, bringing Shannan’s gaze back to his face. Alfredo might not deserve to be punished, but a change in profession may be in order. Though that’s not for me to say.” He held up his hands. “And it’s kind of you to defend him. Especially given the way he treated you as an older man. It says a lot about you… and whether you actually should be in prison right now.”
“That version of him will never exist. That’s not who he is,” she snapped, completely ignoring the bait he’d put out.
She’s not interested in proclaiming her innocence. Why?
“I believe you,” Vicente insisted, leaning forward. “But what if he was right? What if something did change in the timeline based on his actions? Maybe something small?”
She sighed as the corners of her mouth lifted into a condescending smile. “I just spent months in an alternate timeline. Do you think I wouldn’t notice if something was off when I came home? It’s exactly the corrupt shit-hole it was when I left. Believe that,” she stressed, flicking her eyes to the mirror.
Vicente smiled back, concealing the piteous nature of his expression. I believe you think that’s true, you poor, silly girl…
“Before I forget,” he said, forcing his tone into a casual, absent-minded tone. “Dr. Chandrasekhar asked if he could come with me to see you. He seemed worried about you and I was sorry to turn down his request.”
Shannan’s cheeks flushed crimson and she looked down.
“Were you close? Maybe like you were with Dr. Edwards?”
Here eyes still on her lap, Shannan shrugged. “He’s a good teacher.”
She still thought Anit was a professor at Warner. Just like Monica and Alfredo did. Was it possible they genuinely didn’t realize they’d changed the timeline? If that was the case, why were they lying?
“What does Dr. Chandrasekhar teach? I didn’t ask him,” he prompted, genuinely curious what expertise Anit would have had if he’d pursued academia.
“Complex temporal engineering. He’s the one who knows how all the time travel machinery works. I’m not surprised he didn’t mention it. He likes to downplay how smart he is.”
The blush had not faded from her face.
“And you saw him… socially?”
She covered the pause with a throat clearing, shifted in her seat. Then she seemed to make a decision. It was like he could see the thought flash across her face: Enough of this.
Raising her eyes to his, she gave a firm nod. “Yes. I saw him socially a few times. Which isn’t allowed, obviously. Even after I graduate, I’m supposed to wait a year before seeing any of the faculty… socially. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
He leaned forward, giving her a meaningful look. “I don’t want to, either. The last thing I want is for another good man to get jammed up over nothing.”
***
The observation room seemed to shrink around Anit as he watched the interrogation through the one-way mirror, the muscle in his jaw tapping out a recurring pulse of fury.
What the hell had he just heard? That the Fitzroy girl had been nailing the alternate version of himself? They had a history?
I didn’t need Guerrero at all! I could have done this myself from the jump!
Every tactic Vin used to establish trust with the girl, Anit could have used himself. “I took advantage of my position as your teacher. I’d like to make up for that now. Please tell me the truth so I can help you.”
But he hadn’t known. Couldn’t have known.
He’d wasted months as multiple operatives interrogated her, twisting her inside out and dumping a reservoir-full of water down her throat. None of it did any good.
“You’re filth!” she’d hissed at any operative she saw. The guards, she was mostly civil to. But it was like she had a built-in detector for anyone with an intel background. She even sniffed it out on the Warden.
He hadn’t seen a point in trying to question her himself. She’d sniff him out too.
Now he realized that this whole time, all he’d had to do was step out from behind the glass… and she would have spilled.
“Fuck…” he exhaled, resting his hands on the desk in front of him.
“Should we suspend the interrogation, sir?” the guard behind him asked.
He let his head drop, taking several deep breaths. They’d been in there for over two hours, but it felt longer, every sentence of her story throwing him for a loop. Whatever he had expected her to say, she had blown all those expectations out of the water.
How much of that girl’s story was the truth? What if it all was? That meant Shannan was a hero, not a felon. She’d single-handedly saved the United States from being some weird Christian version of Saudi Arabia.
What would people do if they heard what she had to say?
He was getting ahead of himself. After all, there was no guarantee any of it was true. That bit at the end, when Vin asked her about Monica… she was definitely lying. The question was why?
Why did Monica and Alfredo lie and say they didn’t know Shannan? None of them seemed to realize the timeline had even changed, so it wasn’t to conceal their malfeasance. It was something else. Maybe something even bigger.
“Yeah, she’s had enough for today. We’ll go at her again later,” he answered the guard, not bothering to look back at him.
Like it or not, he was stuck with Vicente. He’d built a rapport with the girl and there was no swapping him out now.
He watched Vicente through the glass as the guard came into the interrogation room, telling them their time was up.
“I’d like to come back and see you again, if that’s alright?” Vicente asked, plastering on that smile a husband gives his wife when he’s asking for a weekend out with the boys.
“Sure. I got room on my calendar,” she said, groaning slightly as the guard unchained her from the table.
Her face was slack, the brief smile she’d favored him with long gone. But Anit saw the warmth in her eyes, and the flash of eagerness when Vin mentioned coming back.
Yeah… he’s the guy. There’s no doing this without him.
That meant Anit had to bring him along to what he had to do next. He only hoped Vin didn’t act like a Boy Scout when push came to shove.
Pulling out his cell phone, he tapped out a message to Sato:
I’m on the way back with FBI. Bring Candidates Savala and Jaramillo to secure questioning area. No cameras.
They lied.
These events happened at the end of Sunder of Time
This is one of the ending scenes of Fissure of Worlds