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Chapter XXXV
They kept Johanna sedated for the flight back to the states. They rushed her to McLenco and bundled her, still strapped down, into a hospital bed. She tried to roll over into fetal position, but the straps prevented her from rolling all the way on to her side, so she hunched her body into a bean shape with her arms straining against the tie-downs instinctively trying to protect her midsection. Dr. Heckleweit had seen this before – the classic pose of someone who had been spiritually broken. It was unlikely, he thought, that Johanna was withholding any information. She pulled at the restraints, mumbling all the while. Dr. Heckleweit listened, but, except for an occasional “God” and “help” he couldn’t make out any words.
While Johanna mumbled incoherently, Dr. Heckleweit checked Johanna’s pupils, her breathing, and her heart beat and strapped her to several monitors. Then he laid out a series of syringes on a tray next to her bed. After staring at the monitoring screens for a minute he proceeded to inject the contents of the first syringe into a vein on the inside of her right arm. As her breathing grew stronger, her eyes fluttered and finally stayed open. He picked up a handful of dirt mixed with carrot greens and shoved it into her mouth. She gagged and spit.
He laughed. “Who gave you the lame brain idea that the anthrax scare was a ploy to get America into a war?”
“No one,” she said fighting for breath.
“Tell me.”
“No one.”
After several similar attempts, Dr. Heckleweit shot a strong sedative into Johanna’s vein and she drifted into unconsciousness. “So much for the carrots,” he mumbled to himself, and he left the room shaking his head in frustration.
When he returned several hours later, Johanna was mumbling something, but Dr. Heckleweit couldn’t understand it.
“What was that, Johanna? Did you say ‘help me’? Come on, Johanna, let’s hear you grovel to God. You’re in prison, you know. Only it’s a prison for the insane. And if God doesn’t save you, you’ll spend the whole rest of your life in restraints.” He prodded her chest, her stomach, and then her eyes, and she closed her lids trying to protect them.
“What’s wrong? No God coming to save you? You must not be praying very hard. Or maybe…maybe he doesn’t want to save you because you’re not worth saving.”
He stopped his taunting for a few minutes giving the words a chance to sink in. “And speaking of help, where are your friends? You’d think they’d have come for you by now. You’re trying to be so brave and loyal, and it’s all for nothing. It doesn’t look like they care much about you. So, go ahead and say their names.”
“Now, Johanna.” His voice mellowed. “The ones who told you security secrets. Believe me, they’re not patriots; they’re traitors.”
This part was critical. He’d broken her down. Now he had to build her trust. “I won’t tell a soul. Promise. I can get you out of here; I’m the only one who can. Just a few names.” He waited. “Tell me, Johanna. The ones from Washington who talked to you.”
He stroked her hair ever so gently. “You can trust me.”
And Johanna broke down. With tears and sobs and wails, she loosed the floodgate of all the misery she’d been carrying by herself. She was too doped up to care who heard her. “Don’t leave me,” she begged.
His voice was soothing. “I won’t leave. I promise.”
“Not you,” she said.
Back to square one, thought the doctor.
“What was that? You don’t want me to leave you? Or was it God you were talking to? It looks like He already has. Too bad! The Almighty has flown to the Bahamas for a vacation leaving you standing up to your eyeteeth in quicksand. In here I am the only god you have to please.” And he stopped - teasing her mind with the silence. Then his voice gentled again. “Give me some names? You have my word. I won’t tell a soul.”
Johanna cried till she was too tired to cry any more, her hands clenched around the sheets that covered her. “Pray hard, Johanna, pray very hard. If you want God to hear you, you must pray very hard.” And Dr. Heckleweit injected more sedative.
Again he let her sleep, monitoring her vitals all the while. Even in sleep her body lay tense. And as Johanna slept he reread the transcripts of her interrogation in Syria, looking for phrases that Johanna had used. These were words that would pierce into her heart. And finally he roused her again with an injection, but this time he barely tapped the syringe, injecting only a few drops of the liquid into her vein.
Chapter XXXV
They kept Johanna sedated for the flight back to the states. They rushed her to McLenco and bundled her, still strapped down, into a hospital bed. She tried to roll over into fetal position, but the straps prevented her from rolling all the way on to her side, so she hunched her body into a bean shape with her arms straining against the tie-downs instinctively trying to protect her midsection. Dr. Heckleweit had seen this before – the classic pose of someone who had been spiritually broken. It was unlikely, he thought, that Johanna was withholding any information. She pulled at the restraints, mumbling all the while. Dr. Heckleweit listened, but, except for an occasional “God” and “help” he couldn’t make out any words.
While Johanna mumbled incoherently, Dr. Heckleweit checked Johanna’s pupils, her breathing, and her heart beat and strapped her to several monitors. Then he laid out a series of syringes on a tray next to her bed. After staring at the monitoring screens for a minute he proceeded to inject the contents of the first syringe into a vein on the inside of her right arm. As her breathing grew stronger, her eyes fluttered and finally stayed open. He picked up a handful of dirt mixed with carrot greens and shoved it into her mouth. She gagged and spit.
He laughed. “Who gave you the lame brain idea that the anthrax scare was a ploy to get America into a war?”
“No one,” she said fighting for breath.
“Tell me.”
“No one.”
After several similar attempts, Dr. Heckleweit shot a strong sedative into Johanna’s vein and she drifted into unconsciousness. “So much for the carrots,” he mumbled to himself, and he left the room shaking his head in frustration.
When he returned several hours later, Johanna was mumbling something, but Dr. Heckleweit couldn’t understand it.
“What was that, Johanna? Did you say ‘help me’? Come on, Johanna, let’s hear you grovel to God. You’re in prison, you know. Only it’s a prison for the insane. And if God doesn’t save you, you’ll spend the whole rest of your life in restraints.” He prodded her chest, her stomach, and then her eyes, and she closed her lids trying to protect them.
“What’s wrong? No God coming to save you? You must not be praying very hard. Or maybe…maybe he doesn’t want to save you because you’re not worth saving.”
He stopped his taunting for a few minutes giving the words a chance to sink in. “And speaking of help, where are your friends? You’d think they’d have come for you by now. You’re trying to be so brave and loyal, and it’s all for nothing. It doesn’t look like they care much about you. So, go ahead and say their names.”
“Now, Johanna.” His voice mellowed. “The ones who told you security secrets. Believe me, they’re not patriots; they’re traitors.”
This part was critical. He’d broken her down. Now he had to build her trust. “I won’t tell a soul. Promise. I can get you out of here; I’m the only one who can. Just a few names.” He waited. “Tell me, Johanna. The ones from Washington who talked to you.”
He stroked her hair ever so gently. “You can trust me.”
And Johanna broke down. With tears and sobs and wails, she loosed the floodgate of all the misery she’d been carrying by herself. She was too doped up to care who heard her. “Don’t leave me,” she begged.
His voice was soothing. “I won’t leave. I promise.”
“Not you,” she said.
Back to square one, thought the doctor.
“What was that? You don’t want me to leave you? Or was it God you were talking to? It looks like He already has. Too bad! The Almighty has flown to the Bahamas for a vacation leaving you standing up to your eyeteeth in quicksand. In here I am the only god you have to please.” And he stopped - teasing her mind with the silence. Then his voice gentled again. “Give me some names? You have my word. I won’t tell a soul.”
Johanna cried till she was too tired to cry any more, her hands clenched around the sheets that covered her. “Pray hard, Johanna, pray very hard. If you want God to hear you, you must pray very hard.” And Dr. Heckleweit injected more sedative.
Again he let her sleep, monitoring her vitals all the while. Even in sleep her body lay tense. And as Johanna slept he reread the transcripts of her interrogation in Syria, looking for phrases that Johanna had used. These were words that would pierce into her heart. And finally he roused her again with an injection, but this time he barely tapped the syringe, injecting only a few drops of the liquid into her vein.
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