Boyle's Hypothesis

At first Boyle couldn’t help but stay quiet and stare. But seeing how awkward it was getting, he decided to break off gaze and say something.                                                                                     

“They are as guilty as they appear innocent” he said, finding himself returning his gaze at the inmate and admiring her.                                                                                                                           

Mr. Klaus offended by his first sentence to the inmate, thought to do the interrogation himself. “How did you bypass my security?” he asked. “Who was your inside man?” he asked another.                                                                                                                                                       

Klaus was an impatient man. The kind that believed ATM queues were a waste of time when the machine couldn’t be broken open. And he was the kind that got easily frustrated at failure; something he had in common with business moguls for he too was one unlike Boyle who was a Federal Bureau guy.                                                                                                               

The inmate sat still watching the two like she hadn’t heard a single word the two said, particularly Mr. Klaus whom she barely blinked or made an expression at his questions. Of course she wouldn’t blink or make an expression; she had a soar on her face and a wound to her mouth.                                                               

“Who gave you the password?” Mr. Klaus asked again, still to the quiet inmate who said not a word or a sigh. Frustrated, Klaus moved to vent his anger. “How did you get into my building damn it?” he snarled. Getting no response, he turned to Boyle. “Doesn’t she understand what am saying or not? Is she seeing this as a joke or something?” he blurted.                                                

“Take it easy, Mr. Klaus” Boyle calmed, chiming into the conflict. “I’ll handle this…” he assured.                                                                                                                                                     

Turning to the inmate, Boyle sighed. This was the part of the job he despised. “Ximena…” he called, “We are ready to work out a deal with you if you are ready to help us…” he informed, drawing the attention of the inmate who stared at him. Those eyes, he thought. “You don’t have to have that baby of yours in here within these walls…heck, you don’t necessarily have to spend much time here either” he revealed, “Just…”                                                       

“I swear…I-I didn’t kill that man” the inmate interrupted, startling Boyle.                                      

Boyle caught in the humour, laughed out loud immediately, startling Klaus who looked at him. How will this help his company? He thought.                                                                            

“You didn’t kill him or you didn’t mean to?” Boyle rephrased. “It’s amazing how stories in court tend to differ from those told in prison” he said sarcastically. “You know what’s more intriguing? How a murder can so convincingly be made to look like manslaughter…but what do you know? The story keeps changing” Boyle joked, annoying Klaus and surprisingly, the inmate. “We aren’t here for that, anyway…we are here for a bigger fish” he revealed.                                   

“Fish…?” the inmate asked enthusiastically, somewhat drawing Klaus’ interest.                         

“Your boss” Boyle informed, bringing out a photograph and handing it to the inmate. “We believe you know this man or may have worked for him” he said.                                                    

The inmate stared at the photograph for some time before returning her eyes to Boyle. Something felt familiar about it but no one needs to know, do they?                                                     

“I don’t…” she muttered.                                                                                                                      

“You don’t?” Boyle repeated. “Isn’t that convenient?” he smiled.                                                            Frowning, the inmate looked at Mr. Klaus. “No…I-I don’t” she mumbled, hoping to irritate Boyle as she returned to him.                                                                                                                       

“Look, you got a real chance walking outta here alive and safe…we know you didn’t plan it on your own or off your accord…now, if you are ready to rot in here while your kid gets sent off to God knows where not knowing who his mother is, to protect some low life…be my guest. You won’t last long in prison. You were attacked 3 days back, weren’t you?” Boyle threatened forcing the inmate to sit back. Klaus smiled, perhaps they were getting somewhere. “If you want to get out of here and back in your country, I suggest you tell us everything you know about Ron Druman, the heist at the car plant and how you were able to achieve the feat, those you worked with…” Boyle added, while Mr. Klaus nodded.                                                       

“A green card…” the inmate chimed before Boyle could finish, surprising the two men.             

“Excuse me…what?” Boyle chided, smiling at the joke he found in the statement. She got some humour in her, and balls for a lady. Klaus looked at him awed.                                                

“A green card…” the inmate repeated.                                                                                            

“Out of the question” the Agent replied straight off.                                                                              

Falling back to her seat, the inmate looked at Boyle then Klaus before shaking her head. “No…” she muttered                                                                                                                                            

“What?” Boyle barked only to be pulled back by Mr. Klaus. Klaus gave him the look of trying to have him consider the deal but Boyle returned a disapproving glare.                                        

“I won’t help you” the inmate stated clearly, frustrating Klaus who looked at Boyle with annoyance.             

“Oh God…” he rolled his eyes, “I can’t believe I wasted my time coming here” he yelled.                  

Angered by Klaus’ statement alone, Boyle moved closer to the inmate. “You know we have the power to increase your stay in here, right? You’ll never give birth out of prison or perhaps, your child may be given one of those uhm…prison uniforms…or heck, given to some lunatic by child services” he threatened, directing his aggression at her. “We have knowledge of your other crimes, Miss Casttello…the ones that may convince the judge and jury of a life prison sentence or…death sentence. Want to die in a foreign country?” he informed.                                

The inmate’s eyes flashed unblinkingly at Boyle then shaking her head, she muttered “No…,” straight off to the Agent’s face. “Vete al inferno” she said afterwards in Spanish, humouring Boyle with her Venezuelan accent.                                                                                        

Boyle looking to cool his anger chuckled. He stood up abruptly then with Mr. Klaus, led the way from the room.                                                                                                                          

“You did handle this” Mr. Klaus mocked once they were outside.                                                       

“She’ll talk eventually…” Boyle guaranteed. “She’s a snitch, she will…”   

Ava concentrated on the FBI agent’s glasses while the agent concentrated on her nose. “Name…Ava Julian Frederico. Sex…Female, Age…28, Nationality…Mexican…” the Agent read from his file before pausing to concentrate on the convict’s nose. “Do you speak English?” he asked.                                                             

“Fuck you…” Ava answered in English.                                                                                           

The Agent smiling at the response, nodded his head. “I take that as a…Yes” he mused. “Family…None” he read once more. “No family?” he turned to ask. “No husband, son, Uncle, father? Cousin?” he concentrated on the inmate’s nose. “How’d you come by the last name Frederico then?” he asked again, “…the sisters at the orphanage give you the name?”                        

“Frederico is the man who raped me when I was twelve…” Ava answered abruptly, frustrated with the questions. “I took his name to remind me of his identity and what I will do to him and his kind if I ever caught him” she revealed.                                                                            

Taken aback at how straight it came, the Agent finally raised his head to look into the inmate’s eyes. He hadn’t taken her for one who sought vengeance. “So that was your reason for leaving the orphanage? For revenge?” he asked.                                                                                    

Shrugging, Ava looked at the Agent then smiled. “No one would adopt me…so I had to find a purpose”                                                                                                                                         

“That purpose being a criminal career” the Agent chided.                                                              

“Who are you to judge?” Ava questioned, “El crimen paga” she said in Spanish, looking at the Agent. “I would be in your shoes if life gave me a chance” she notified before looking down literally at the Agent. “And by the way…I love those shoes” Ava mocked.                                      

Readjusting his glasses, the Agent sighed at the flatter. “Hmm…well, thank you” he said. “How about we talk about your father?” he switched.                                                                                  

“I have a father?” Ava returned; her expression, like one feigning surprise.                                   

“Evidence said you were working with a man named Esteban Herare while you were holding the girl for ransom…” the Agent revealed, turning the pages of his book. “Who is he to you?” he asked, looking at the photograph in the file.                                                                         

“Is he my father?” Ava fired back.                                                                                                    

Cunning uh? The Agent thought. “You got a sense of humour…that’s okay” he remarked, looking at his file again then the inmate’s nose. “But you know what the problem is?” he asked. “You won’t get to live with the sense of humour when America decides giving you the death penalty” he revealed.                                                                                                                                

Ava smiling to the sound of it looked into the Agent’s eyes without fear. “That wasn’t what the Judge said” she called on his bluff.                                                                                                    

“Well, Judges are always known for changing their minds aren’t they?” the Agent countered. “Especially when met with hard evidences to your numerous crimes on American soil…you are a danger to society”                                                                                                                  

“You have nothing” Ava fired back only to be met by restraint.                                                          

“Of course” the Agent nodded. One thing about the Agent; he never loved arguments but that doesn’t change the fact that he was always right. “But would you want to beet Mr. Herare’s? Well, you two may be married but what’s in Mr. Herare’s mind now is getting out of jail no matter what” he revealed, startling Ava. How did he?                                                                 

Caught in the loop, Ava looked at the Agent straight faced then struck the table. “Bastard…!” she yelled. “What do you want?” she turned to the Agent.                                                       

The FBI Agent adjusting his suit, looked around then returned to Ava. “Word has it while you were in Geneva working for a client Solomon Mendez, you were also working on an anonymous lead as to the whereabouts or identity of your father…who sent you the lead?” the Agent dropped.                                                                                                                                        

The question sent chills into Ava forcing her to laugh out and stare at the Agent with spite. “Am already in prison, aren’t I? It’s life imprisonment. It only ends if am dead, right?” she asked before looking at the door. “It’s free being dead than in prison while living” she informed. Then turning to the door once again, she called on the “Guards!”