I stuck to the script when they interrogated me, and it seemed to be working. However they weren’t just going to let me go, they needed to verify it. My legend was quite detailed, but then I’d had three years to put it into place, and I’d also invested several hours a week during term time in putting it into practice, not to mention the reading time and writing the essays to maintain it. I had always felt that it would be worth it someday, and now that was looking like the proverbial rainy day that I had been saving it all up for.

DC Fletcher came back into the room, she’d been away for three hours and 17 minutes. Having the terminal let me keep track of time, even if it couldn’t make it to the outside world. It didn’t look like she’d had any sleep for a while either, although for all I knew she’d just come on shift when they’d lifted me. She was carrying a brown cardboard folder with some paper inside. I’d noticed that the special branch officers seemed to use old fashioned paper notes rather than electronically capturing stuff. I expected that it was something to do with security.

Fletcher sat down in the chair opposite me in the interview room. She looked at me, smiled a little and said “Hello again. I’ve checked with the university records, and they confirm that part of your story. However we still need to check a few more things, and I have some follow-up questions from my initial checking.”

“Fine, fire away.” I replied in as bored a drawl as I could muster.

“Can you please confirm your parents’ names and occupations?”

“My mother’s name is Sophia Powell and she was born on 15th June 2002. If you were to ask her she would say that her occupation was being a mother, and sometimes a wife. She was fortunate enough never to need to work.”

“And your father?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you my father’s full name, but he was an army officer. He was killed in action during the last European War rescuing his troops from an impossible situation. You might have heard of it, Operation Bag o’ Nails? He never married my mother, it was a brief liaison, although my uncle made sure that my mother and I were well looked after.”

“You said your mother never married your father, yet you said she would have described her occupation sometimes as ‘wife’. Can you expand on that please?”

“Yes. My mother was married to someone else, a friend of my father’s family I suppose, when they had their affair. Her husband could not possibly have been my father, he had been a Prisoner of the French for over a year when I was born. They divorced soon after he returned at the end of the war because of my mother’s obvious infidelity.”


Continued in Imperfect: Scene 06 – Get Away Car

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