You will ask them in the order I give them to you and you will not deviate from them in any way, or ask anything else. Do you understand?” Helena said.

She wasn't looking at him, just toward the far wall which was a single piece of white glass. If it was just for dramatic effect, then it was the stupidest thing Meyer had seen her do to date.

“Why is this man so important?” Meyer said.

“That is of no concern to you. He is a suspected terrorist, that is all I will say on the matter,” Helena said.

“Another terrorist? You seem to have been collecting those lately.”

“You can confirm his name and date of birth before you start, then you will proceed through each question as I tell you.”

The frosted glass made a buzzing sound and then went clear, revealing beyond it a room of equal size to the one he currently stood in. In the centre sat a man on a metal chair, his arms cuffed behind his back and a bag placed over his head.

“New interview room?” Meyer said. “I quite liked the little box one with the wooden table, it had character. This is all too American for my liking, I thought you had taste Helena?”

“Oh and you'll need this,” Charlie said, filling the silence as Helena ignored him. He picked up a headset that was lying on the desk, placing it across Meyer's forehead so that it rested on his temples.

“That is a brain signal transmitter. Mr. Martese is already wearing one. It will allow us to see what you are talking about,” Helena said.

“What do you mean, see? How can this stupid machine read my thoughts?”

“Thoughts are just electrical currents transmitted by the brain Meyer, which we can decode,” Helena said.

“And if I don't want to wear it?” Meyer said.

“Since when did you think you had a choice in the matter?” Helena said, in almost a snarl.

Charlie escorted Meyer into the adjacent room, closing the door behind him. Although the room was locked, Meyer and Mr. Martese were anything but alone, with Helena in the next room and her new technology. He should get this over with as soon as possible.

“Good morning, my name is Meyer.”

The man in the chair said nothing. Rude, although God knows what he had been through before ending up here. Meyer was normally the last resort, they would have tried everything before calling him in.

“If you talk to me Pablo, this will be a lot easier,” Meyer said.

There was a screech in his ear and Helena's voice bombarded his ear drum.

“Get on with it,” she said.

Meyer reached over and pulled off the cloth covering the man's head. He didn't quite match his picture, but then a black eye and bruised jaw will do that to you. Walking around until he stood directly in front of Martese, Meyer spoke one word, “Isabella.”

The name of the man's daughter was all it took.