The men were huffing as they were jogging around the base. Trying to divert their attention from the boredom of running the fifth mile, a distraction presented itself in the form of a Cobalt soldier dragging a female towards the barracks. The female was cuffed and dragged along quite savagely by Reyes.
"What in the bloody hell..." commented Roach in disbelief.
In the distance, Shepherd motioned to MacTavish and Ghost to join him. They ordered the rest to carry on without them.
"Get changed and meet me in interrogation room One," Shepherd ordered them.
Reyes settled Novak in the interrogation room and cuffed her to the table in front of her and exited the room.
"She's all set," Reyes informed Matthews.
"Good. Wait in the rec room, Reyes. I'll call you when I need you."
"Yes sir."
Reynolds joined Matthews and Shepherd mid-conversation.
"Are we sure about this?" inquired Shepherd. "Maybe William made a mistake."
"Billy doesn't do mistakes. We're sure."
Ghost and MacTavish joined them, freshly showered after their morning PT. Matthews huffed at their presence.
"What the hell are they doing here?"
"They're my CO and XO. They have to know what is going on," explained Shepherd, adamant.
"They stay with you in the other room and no interference," he hissed and turned to Reynolds. "Stick close and follow my lead."
Shepherd, MacTavish, and Ghost entered the room adjacent to the interrogation room. Billy was sitting down in front of the computer, wearing a headset, acknowledging them with a nod. Through the double-sided mirror, they saw Matthews settling in front of the female and Reynolds standing in a corner with a pistol strapped to her right leg.
"Dr Elena Novak; age: thirty-five; nationality: Czech Republic; specialised in systems engineering, military network encryption and drone control protocols."
Novak looked around settling her eyes on Reynolds, but she simply stared her down in return.
"Am I under arrest here?" asked Novak, confused. "Wasn't I a hostage?"
"You tell me," Matthews replied, lowering the file in front of him.
"I am not understanding."
"Then let me explain it to you."
Across the table, Matthews placed the small, encrypted drive.
"Do you recognise this?"
Her eyes flicked towards the drive. "No."
"It was found in the same Ultranationalist compound my team extracted you from. It contains a set of codes as a foundation for a framework of a very modern missile targeting system."
Novak kept calm and composed. "So? What do I have to do with it?"
"You were working on a similar system when you were with NATO."
"No, I wasn't."
"And it was found in this same drive," he continued, ignoring her.
"The Russians stole my work!" she spat.
"No, they didn't," sighed Matthews.
On the other side, Ghost and MacTavish shifted uncomfortably. Unremarkable as ever, Shepherd looked the calmest amongst them.
Matthews stood up, and shuffled around the room, with his hands in his pockets finally sitting on the table near her.
"Our tech analyst spent most of the night trying to hack into the drive only you have permission to access."
"Russians forced me to open it for them -"
"Cut the bullshit!" roared Matthews, slamming his fist on the table.
Novak jumped a foot whilst Reynolds remained composed at the sudden outburst.
"Can you explain to me why there is your signature on this fuckin' drive? Why did our analyst extract your code in the targeting system?!"
"Your analyst is wrong!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the pressure.
Matthews laughed heartily. "My analyst is never wrong."
"Then what are you implying?"
"You are a double agent!"
"No! No! It is not true!" she yelled, panic struck in her eyes.
"Did the Ultranationalists order you to programme this targeting system?"
"I don't know what you are talking about!" she continued yelling, hysterical.
Matthews turned over to the mirror. "Kill the cameras."
From the other side, Billy pressed a single button on the keyboard and the monitor in front of him went black. He cracked his knuckles, rubbing his fingers together nervously. Ghost shot MacTavish a look, unsure on how to react.
"I risked the lives of four of my best soldiers to extract you. Excuse me if I'm slightly livid at the whole situation," he sneered, rubbing his beard forcefully.
Novak's chest was rising and falling rapidly, her eyes brimming with tears. The cuffs making a clinking sound as she tried to turn around to plead for help from the other side of the mirror.
"No one's coming to help you this time," he guaranteed her.
Her chair was turned forcefully towards the table. He looked up at the camera and noticed that red bleeping disappeared. Nodding in Reynolds's direction, she approached her and rested a hand on Novak's shoulder, digging her fingernails deep into her skin. When her hand reached for the pistol, Novak's expression broke, her eyes wide with sudden fear.
"Let's try this again," said Matthews, rolling his shirt sleeves. "Did the Ultranationalists hire you to programme the targeting system?"
"N-no," she stammered, her lower lip trembling. With a flick of his hand, Reynolds turned the pistol in her hand holding it by the barrel and struck Novak across her face. Blood splatters polluted the metal table in front of her as her head hung to the side. With a quiver, she sat upright once more, blood dribbling down from a deep gash on her cheek.
"Are we allowing this, sir?" asked MacTavish, trying his utmost to hide his concern.
"We are not here, Captain. There is nothing to allow."
Matthews sighed. He detested when the interrogatee does not cooperate, it wastes more time than necessary.
"Are you understanding what happens when you don't answer truthfully?"
She nodded shakily, avoiding looking at them at all costs.
"Did the Ultranationalists hire you to programme the targeting system?" he repeated.
Novak nodded once more, a tear streaming down her side.
"Much better. I want the name of who hired you."
"I d-don't know," she cried. "A request came in online. It was encrypted. I don't know who it was."
"You're telling me that you accepted a job without knowing who hired you. You're realising how that sounds right?"
Reynolds cocked her gun and flicked the safety off. Novak whimpered at her action, tears streaming at a much faster rate than before.
"Let me tell you something about the Sergeant here," he said pointing at Reynolds. "She is a very capable soldier and extremely obedient. She will go to hell and back if ordered to do so."
He nudged his head and Reynolds approached Novak. She grabbed her jaw and force opened her mouth. Novak started screaming. The screams muffled instantly as Reynolds jammed the barrel of the pistol down her throat. She gagged as tears gushed down the side of her face, down her temples, disappearing into her hairline.
"Christ..." mumbled Ghost.
Moving closer to Novak's ear, Matthews murmured, "So trust me when I tell you that she will kill you if she has to."
She removed the gun from her mouth and pulled the trigger. A bullet whooshed past Novak's ear, a thin line of blood appearing, barely grazing it. Novak continue crying hysterically, her ear ringing due to extremely close shooting. Reynolds returned the gun in her mouth holding her face firmly.
"I need a name!" he roared, slamming his palm on the table. "Give me a fuckin' name!"
Novak screamed muffled, "I don't know! I don't know!"
"She's not cooperating," said Matthews scorned. "Go ahead, Sergeant."
Reynolds pressed the pistol further down her throat, Novak's neck twisted backwards with the force. Her screams filled the interrogation room once more as Reynolds rested her finger on her trigger.
Her finger depressed the trigger further, and Novak closed her eyes tightly, lines of stress spread across her face, waiting for the inevitable.
A click sounded across the room and the pistol slide snapped backwards, revealing an empty chamber and an empty magazine. Novak gasped for air, hyperventilating, shuddering at what could have been.
"Name," he said, calmly.
"He will kill me if I tell you."
"I don't care. Name."
"Makarov," she whispered, terrorised. "Vladimir Makarov."
Matthew shot a look at the mirror and exited the interrogation room alongside Reynolds. In the corridor, they met with the others.
"Billy, inform our analysts to start on the interview transcripts. In the meantime, I need you to delve even further into this drive. Let's see if we'll manage to connect it with Makarov. And call Reyes for me."
"Yes sir."
"Good job, Dave," remarked Shepherd.
Matthews handed Shepherd the file on Novak.
"She's all yours. You hired us for a reason Shepherd, because we're the best and we get shit done."
"Why didn't you send the 141 for this, sir?" asked Ghost.
"Because this way, you kept your gloves clean while ours got dirty," interjected Matthews putting on his jacket. "That is the purpose of the PMC. Nobody is going to question our methods, Lieutenant. On the other hand, they will question yours."
Ghost narrowed his eyes at Matthews, and the latter smirked.
"It is not a question of ability, Ghost," he continued. "The way you worked my Sergeant that night in New York, confirms your proficiency in these matters."
Reynolds and Ghost looked at each other momentarily but was interrupted by the arrival of the squad medic.
"Reyes, give Novak a quick checkup and see she is in a decent shape to leave to our friends here."
"What's next?" asked MacTavish.
"Now we work on that convict whose Makarov apparently has a hard-on for," said Shepherd. "We cut him loose and start luring Makarov out from the shadows. Our team is still gathering intel on this."
Shepherd turned towards Matthews as they started walking outside. "I need you to leave me Reynolds and Hernandez."
"Reynolds you can have. Hernandez, I need her elsewhere. I'll send her over when done."
With the others back at the barracks, Reynolds followed Matthews to the helicopter with Reyes on their heel.
"Physiologically she's... okay. Mentally, she's fucked," he simply said, shooting a glance at Reynolds.
"Fine for me," shrugged Matthews
Reyes tapped Reynolds's shoulder and boarded the helo.
"I'm staying here?" she asked, slightly indignant.
"Christianne, you have asked me endless times to leave. What the hell is going on with you?"
She looked taken aback at this sudden attack from her boss.
"You have spent even up to eight months stationed abroad and not once you have complained. Are the men not treating you well here?"
Considering that she had fucked the task force's captain a mere two days before, she didn't think that she was not being treated well.
"That's not an issue."
"Listen," he said, placing the headset on his neck. "I need someone I can trust here. That is you. Don't disappoint me now. Good job in there today."
With that, he boarded, the rotor blades turning slowly picking up the rhythm steadily. The dinning noise muted the faint yelling of the soldiers from the barracks next to them. She covered her eyes to prevent the dust pricking her as the helicopter disappeared in the low cloud cover.