Ruban tipped his head back, gazing unseeingly at the discolored and water-stained ceiling of the Central Ragah Detention Center. He sat in an uncomfortable, narrow metal chair in the visiting chamber.

Across from him sat Atbin Siyal, his manacled hands chained to the equally uncomfortable chair he occupied.

They’d spent the last forty minutes going round and round the same topics, with no meaningful exchange of information.

If Siyal was to be believed, he had nothing to do with Simani’s accident. It was all a horrible misunderstanding. He’d never set foot in Ruban’s flat. Didn’t even know where it was. Had never had any dealings with any of the cults, including HAVA. Had no inkling of who might’ve been behind the accident, or might want Simani out of the way.

Ruban was undeterred. Relentless, he hammered the young man with questions.

But he couldn’t deny that Siyal seemed nervous, apprehensive. Almost frightened. His voice shook when he spoke, his responses trite and insipid. He seemed desperate to find the answers that would satisfy Ruban, while giving away as little information as possible.

“In the month preceding the Komini Fair Hunt, did you receive any money or gifts from any official of the IAW?” Ruban demanded, for perhaps the third time since he’d entered the room.

Siyal shook his head, emphatic. His floppy hair fell into his eyes, which brimmed with unshed tears. He looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“You might as well come clean to me now,” Ruban pressed, his voice steely. “Your house is being searched as we speak. And we’ll soon review all your bank accounts, check every transaction you’ve made since the beginning of the year. Not to mention any undisclosed assets you or your family might own, whether within the country or abroad.” He leaned forward in his chair. “There’s no way you’re getting out of this unscathed, Atbin. The only hope you have, now, is to tell the truth. Come clean, tell us everything you know, and we’ll be happy to negotiate a deal that benefits both sides.”

Once again, Siyal shook his head. A lone tear trickled down his face, before disappearing into the collar of his crumpled button-down. “You’re wrong. I-I didn’t take any money from anyone—”

“Then you were blackmailed?” Ruban said, his voice growing gentler. “Have you been threatened? Or perhaps someone close to you?”

Again, the young man shook his head. “No. I haven’t—” His words were broken by a hiccup. Ruban motioned for him to drink some water, which he did. “I haven’t done anything. Nobody told me to hurt Ms. Vaz. And I didn’t! I swear it. Why won’t you believe me?”

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“Because you’re lying!” Ruban slammed the table, rising abruptly to his feet.

Siyal flinched.

Towering over him, Ruban glared down at the younger man. “Do you think they’ll protect you?” he demanded, leaning across the table towards Siyal. “The people who put you up to this? The ones who’ve left you to rot in this dreary hellhole? Look around you, man! You’ll take the fall for their crimes. They’ll make sure of it. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, while they enjoy their freedom and wealth. They’ll lock you up and throw away the key, never spare you a passing thought again. Are you okay with that? Is that what you want?”

Siyal sniffled, a series of hiccups wracking his slight frame. “It—it doesn’t matter what I want. I can’t—I can’t…” His voice broke, tears streaming down his face.

Disconcerted, Ruban handed him his handkerchief. “You can’t what?” he pressed.

“I can’t tell you—” Another hiccup. He paused, wiping at his eyes with more force than was strictly necessary. “There’s nothing to tell. The people – the people you’re looking for.” He glanced around the chamber. “I don’t know who they are. I can’t tell you. If I did—” Once again, he broke off, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes.

“If you did?” Ruban leaned closer to the young Hunter. “Atbin, look at me. What’d happen if you did? Who’re you trying to protect?” Seeing Siyal tense, Ruban took a step back. He tried to adopt a more soothing tone. “All you have to do is tell me the truth. That’s it. You’ll be fine, just as long as you tell me the truth. I’ll take care of you, I swear it. I’ll make sure you get a fair trial, and no one will hurt you. Just tell me what happened that evening at the fair.”

There was a moment of silence. When Siyal finally spoke, his voice was raw, as if the words had been scraped from his throat. “You can’t – you can’t do any of that. You can’t keep me safe. No one can. They’re – they’re too powerful. They’re—” His bloodshot eyes darted around the chamber, before settling on Ruban once more. “They’re everywhere. They’ll know. They’ll know exactly what I said—” His voice broke once more, and Siyal buried his head in his hands.

“Who’ll know?” Ruban made sure his tone remained calm, soothing. “When you say they’re powerful, do you mean political power? Is it someone in the government? The IAW?” He paused, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. “Or is this about money? You think they have the means to pay off anyone who tries to help you?”

“All of it!” Siyal howled, all but pulling at his own hair. “All of that and more. They have all the power. Political, financial – what does it matter? The government, the media, the banks – it’s all in their pocket. Everything. There’s nothing anyone can do to fight them.”

Ruban took another step back, his lips pressed together. He’d thought he was getting somewhere. But every word that came out of Siyal’s mouth sounded more and more like a conspiracy theory.

Ruban was no psychologist, but it seemed to him like the kid was having a nervous breakdown. Not surprising, considering the situation he was in. Besides, the fanatical types often went that way, in Ruban’s experience. Their grip on reality was already tenuous, at best. It didn’t take much for it to snap.

Still, all this delusional ranting wasn’t going to help him with the investigation. Ruban sighed, thrusting both hands into his pockets to keep himself from pulling at his own hair. He’d need more time to get anything useful out of Siyal.

More time, he suspected, than any of them could afford.