Ravil
It’s late evening. I’ve been sitting in this interrogation room for hours.
I haven’t said a word to them. Not Russian. Not English. They asked if I wanted a lawyer present, and my heart bailed out of my chest, flopping on the floor like a wounded eel.
Yeah, I want my attorney.
Oh, right. My attorney’s the one who put me in here.
It was her friend Gretchen, of course. I knew they’d had a conversation. I’d listened to it. I didn’t hear any kind of hints or veiled secrets passed, but the two are good friends. Maybe there was something I missed.
I can’t even bring myself to be angry that I was bested by Lucy.
I hardly care what they do to me. Whether I find out what it’s like to serve time in an American prison, or whether they send me back to Russia to serve time there. None of i
