"You're quite paranoid, aren't you?"
"I'm sure you taught me to be that way. Just answer the question. Do you have any reason to want me dead?"
"No.”
"Are you aware of any plans to harm me?”
"No.”
I studied the monitor carefully, and again, there were no signs of deception throughout all of these questions.
Ross wasn’t a field agent. I didn’t think he possessed the skill to beat a poly. And I had caught him unprepared. It was probably as close to the truth as I was going to get. And it did make me feel somewhat relieved.
"Is there anything else?" Ross asked.
"Who's the most beautiful woman on this boat?"
Ross laughed.
"It's a legitimate question."
"Indeed it is, and an easy one to answer. You are far and away, the most beautiful woman in all of Pineapple Bay.”
A slight smirk may have curled my lips.
"How did I do?"
"I think you passed,” I said.
"Well, that's a relief! Can I get out of this contraption now?”
"Yes, you may,” I said.
Ross unhooked the gear, and Jared stuffed it all back into the case.
"I hope you weren't offended by any of my questions," I said.
Ross smiled. “Not at all. I think this was good for us. It puts us on even ground. We know who's who and who we can trust. You were always one of my best operatives. I'm looking forward to the day when I can say that again.” He smiled and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Is there anything you need from me? Anything I can do?”
23
"You could re-implant my memories," I joked.
Ross chuckled. "We're working on that. But the technology is not quite there.”
It was a frightening concept. The thought that someone could implant memories in your brain was the stuff of nightmares. For a moment, it made me concerned. What if the amnesia wasn't an accident at all? What if my memory had been erased? I asked Ross that very question.
He chuckled again. "It's not like a hard drive," he said. “We can't wipe a person's brain clean. It just doesn't work that way."
"But you're experimenting, aren't you?”
"Not me. But I'm sure someone, somewhere in the agency, is working on that technology. Perhaps through a combination of drugs and external stimuli. Somebody's always cooking up something, aren't they?"
He laughed again, but it wasn't really funny.
"I can assure you, whatever's in there,” he said, gently tapping my skull with his index finger, “is all you."
Ross and Jared left, and I followed them into the cockpit. They stepped to the dock, said goodbye to Tyson as they passed, and returned to the parking lot. The four of them hopped into the black SUV and drove away.
