"Is that everybody?"

"Yes." Beth answered.

"Ok, good." Barry Hall stood at the front of the conference room looking frazzled. He was a skinny man in his forties with thinning grey hair, suit and tie with wire rimmed glasses. "First order of business, I want every Indian Agent called back to work. I don't care whether they're on vacation, whether they just finished a night shift or they're having a sick day. They're all to be called in and they're all to be here tonight."

The ten clerics and forty underlings in the room began making notes. Only a few of them actually had the authority to make that happen but they all still needed to be in the loop.

"I also want the reserve unit called in and ready to go where we say, when we say, but only them. I don't want the army thinking they have a say, so I don't want them involved. This stays inside our house; we made the mess we clean it up. Does everybody understand?" Barry searched out discontent.

Beth understood. Barry was a political appointment directly from the Prime Minister’s office. His job wasn't just to clean up the mess but to keep it from leaking and leading people back to his overlords.

"What we have are two dead people, and an Indian on the loose with an axe to grind. Here's what we're going to do, who's in PR?" Barry looked over as Quincy raised his hand from the side. "They were campers, they came out from Ontario for a business trip and someone suggested they go camping, out in the Provincial park and they were ambushed by some Indians looking for a fight."

"Yes sir." Quincy wrote it down.

"If anybody asks how they got away from the reserve, you tell them we erred. You tell them we were attempting to reconcile with the native population by granting them more freedoms and they took advantage of that." Barry moved to the front board where there was a drawing of Kevin up. "This man, we're clamping down people. I want that reserve shut down. Every house ripped open until we find this man. Shoot on sight if they have to."

Barry finished the meeting and cleared the room except for Beth. "You have something for me?"

"I do."

Beth led Barry two floors down to the interview rooms. It was an entire office floor converted into what could only be described as its own police station. There were booking desks and several small steal rooms for holding. Beth escorted Barry to an observation room where Damien waited.

"You're the man of the hour, I understand?" Barry said and shook Damien's hand.

"Thank you sir, but just doing my job." Damien came back with false modesty.

"Beth here tells me you're usually above and beyond in your job. She's got plans for you." Barry moved to the window to look in the other room.

"He's been exceptional so far," Beth added. Damien smiled at her and wondered if he could nail her.

"Thank-you."

"So what's the story with this guy?" Barry asked, looking at where Peter sat at a table with his hands cuffed in front of him. There was a heater on the table pointed at him causing him to sweat.

"I found him in the bush with this camera." Damien held the device up. Barry looked at it.

"He's not in our system," Beth said, "And this is state of the art. It's compact and is shielded to prevent detection, beyond anything they have on the reserve."

"Bush Indian?" Barry asked. "Yeah, he's working with somebody. Wait for the inquisitor and rip him apart."

"Actually sir, I was thinking Damien could handle this. After all, it is his collar." Beth suggested.

"Is he qualified?"

"I think he is." Beth glanced at Damien.

"As do I sir, I've been preparing for this for years." Damien stepped forward.

"Hmmm." Barry considered it. "When I say rip him apart...I am being literal."

"I have no problem with that."

"Very well, get me everything." Barry said, he looked once more at Peter and left the room.

Beth smiled at Damien, who punched the air in celebration. "Go get him tiger."

"Oh beautiful, my time to shine." Damien moved through the connecting door and closed it behind himself.

Peter looked up but could only see an outline of a person, the heater gave off too much of a glow. Damien remained silent as he watched his prisoner.

"Hello?" Peter said.

"Give me your name." Damien ordered.

"Can I get a glass of water?"

"No," Damien slid a chair over and sat across the table. "I want your name."

Beth crossed her arms as she watched. This was one of those times that she dreaded, standing there acting calm as her insides churned. She knew Peter personally, had known him for years and now through her direct intervention had to put him into hell. Their alternative was worse though, she reminded herself, so very much worse.

"If I give you my name, then can I have some water?" Peter pleaded, missing the energy to sell it.

"I can make that happen."

"Jason..."

"Last name."

"Thomson, Jason Thomson." Peter leaned forward. "Can I please have that water?"

"Not just yet." Damien put the camera on the table. Peter sighed his disappointment and sat back as far as the cuffs will let him. "What is this?"

Peter looked at the camera and then back to the form, he said puzzled "It says camera on the side."

"Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift."

"From who?"

"My friend."

"And what's his name?"

"Are you even allowed to give me water?" Peter leaned forward.

"I will if you give me a name?"

"I don't think you're allowed, I don't think you're the guy in charge."

"I'm in charge Jason, as far as you're concerned, everything that happens in this room is under my control. You live or die on my whim."

"Prove it."

Damien stared at him. "I am. I can beat the living shit out of you if I want."

"Of course you can, that's what they do here, that's what's expected. You have permission to do that, go for it. But both you and I know you can only do what you're told, and I'm betting someone told you not to give me water." Peter sighed.

Damien reached out and grabbed the back of Peters' head, pinning it with a bang to the table. "Give me the name!"

"Steven! His name’s Steven Smith!" Peter yelled.

Damien let him go and sat back. "See, now we're getting somewhere. Now who is this Steven Smith, what does he do?"

"Fuck you." Peter said.

Damien started to lean across the table but Peter jolted back.

"He's a carpenter, just outside the city..." Peter stayed tense as Damien moved back. "He's a good man, I swear he's a good man."

Beth didn't recognize any of the names but she wasn't privy to everything, and a little bit concerned Damien was being effective. She tried Steven Smith on her phone and the listing came up; he was a carpenter.

"What's the camera for? Who were you taking the footage to?" Damien continued.

"Give me the keys." Kevin held the pistol to Austin's neck from behind. The Natives other hand held Austin's collar. The two stood next to an out of the way truck stop two hours walk from the hunting grounds.

"It's biometric..." Austin said, wishing that he had just waited the extra twenty minutes to town to use the washroom. He was a suit, a nerd of sorts that worked in the accounting department at Revenue Canada and drove the new electric Prius.

"What does that mean?"

"My fingerprint starts it." Austin answered, "There's no key."

Kevin considered his options and there were few. He had already wasted time getting there and another hour waiting for someone to stop in. "Okay, unlock the door and then get in." Kevin moved them closer to the car. "You drive."

"You can just take the car after I start it..."

"Shut-up, you drive."

Austin put his thumb on the door and it clicked loudly. He stretched his arm to open it and Kevin hit the inside button to unlock the other doors. He shifted Austin into the driver’s seat and then climbed into the back, both doors closed.

"Start it up." Kevin ordered. Austin started the engine. "Drive."

The car jerked forward as Austin headed for the highway. He looked at the door lock button and saw that it was covered in blood. "Where are we going?"

"City."

"Then?"

"I'll tell you when we get there..." Kevin looked down at his side and the hole through the flesh just below his ribs. His shirt and the top of his pants were soaked with blood. He tried to cauterize it out in the bush with the barrel of the gun, but it had cooled off and the magazine was empty.

"How far?"

"Um..." Austin looked at his monitor and maps. It was set for his house. "Ninety minutes."

Kevin sighed, this might have been a bad tactical error and he was too light headed to figure out what his next move should be.

That's when he passed out.

Damien came through the door to the interrogation room causing Peter’s head to snap up.

"Hey..." Peter said but Damien struck him hard across the face. Damien pulled back, hesitated and then hit Peter again.

"You think this is a joke! This is funny to you?" Damien hit him a third time. "Steven Smith!"

"Oh..." Peter yelled. "Stop!"

"Who is he to you?" Damien didn't bother to get his anger under control.

"My contact..."

"He is not." Damien hit him a fourth time then backed out of the heat lamps way.

"Ok..." Peter checked his face, numb now but he knew it would hurt later.

"We tore his place apart. There's no way in hell he's working with you."

"Oh yeah." Peter nodded. He came across Steve Smiths’s name a few years ago in a white supremacy pamphlet calling for the eradication of the Indians. Raiding his place would've turned up more writing. Peter loved the idea that their biggest supporter got the once over.

"Where did you get the camera?" Damien controlled his voice for maximum effect. "You think this is as far as I'm willing to go? They've given me permission to do anything I want to you. Do you know how long I've wanted that over anybody?"

Damien sat across from Peter and waited for the other to look at him.

"I'm going to explain to you what's about to happen, ‘cause right now, two of my friends are in the basement setting up a chair, an electric chair. Then we are going to take you down there and hook you up to it, just like a little kid in those schools of lore. And if that doesn't work, there's a drain under the chair for easy cleaning because I'm going to slowly tear out your nails, your teeth, I'm going to cut you up until I get what I want. You will talk." Damien squeezed his fists.

Actually, Peter hoped to himself, what's going to happen is they were going to go downstairs where Peter was going to frustrate Damian, make him angry, make him lose control. If Peter was lucky, Damien would accidentally kill him before he gave anything important away. Peter was aware he knew too much, none of which he could let get into the hands of an Inquisitor.

"Bring it on, bitch." Peter challenged Damian.