[Author’s Note: We've returned to Daryl, five days after the events of episode 69-70.]
A little over three days passed before Daryl concluded that Karkov had been lying. Either that or he had been encumbered. This did seem to be the fate of those with the temerity to seek out Rin. Daryl wondered whether he ever would find out. He resented the idea that he could die without knowing what actually had happened. It felt unfair.
Karkov had sounded very confident when last they spoke, but that was of little comfort to Daryl. He’d seen plenty of confident idiots get killed. And what if Karkov was lying? It was possible he’d left orders with his soldiers, but orders to do what? Maybe Rin would swoop in and rescue him. After what Karkov had said, Daryl wasn’t sure he wanted her to. Would she save him just to kill him? It would be easier to let the Securitad do that, as they likely would if they found themselves masterless.
Or maybe she needed to do it herself for some reason. Killing her own horse or dog or whatever she thought of him as. Daryl wasn’t sure whom to root for, even from the standpoint of simple self-preservation. If Karkov was defeated, it didn’t mean he had been telling the truth — just that Daryl never would know.
Life would be so much easier if he could be certain it was a lie. Or if the lie never had been told in the first place. Was that Karkov’s real intent: to torment him with false hope and doubt? It wouldn’t work. All things considered, Daryl had a difficult time envisioning a scenario in which he was not killed. In that light, waiting wasn’t so bad. He was quite happy to remain a forgotten prisoner and have nothing happen. Only a fool thought there was nothing worse than waiting. What came after usually was much worse.
Ultimately, it was a question of which monster would kill him — or if they’d both forget him and leave it to the soldiers. Daryl thus faced the absurd choice of whether to hope for the woman he loved or her worst enemy. Nor was there any end in sight to this uncertainty.
The end never did come into sight. It simply appeared two days later without warning and in the form of two armed soldiers. The guards escorted Daryl to a room with a bare metal table and two chairs, much like the one in which Karkov had interviewed him. In fact, he was fairly certain it was the same room. One of the soldiers remained, while the other stepped out, only to return momentarily with a cup of coffee and a tape recorder. Both were set on the table in front of Daryl, and then the soldiers left.
There could be no doubt what this meant. He would be interrogated. Karkov either had decided Daryl did have more to tell him or the man had been toying with him all along. It also was possible that Karkov had been encumbered and the Securitad wanted to find out what Daryl knew about him. Or maybe they just wanted to take advantage of his absence to gain leverage. Afterward they would claim some mishap befell Daryl, and Karkov would be none the wiser. It made sense. Who wouldn’t want leverage over their boss?
This prospect held out a thin sliver of hope. Perhaps if Daryl played his cards right, they would try to turn him. Maybe he could lead them to believe Karkov trusted him and that they could use him to spy on the man. Karkov was too smart to fall for such an obvious ploy, of course. He would see through it immediately and kill Daryl, but only if given the chance. Daryl had no intention of sticking around that long. All he needed was enough breathing room to make an escape. It was his best shot, if such an opportunity actually materialized.
Six hours passed. Daryl had time to consider his plan very carefully, but some details still needed work. The delay likely was a standard tactic, but he couldn’t be sure. Despite his military background, Daryl had little direct experience with the Securitad. He had been drafted into the regular army, and they were completely separate. On only one occasion had his unit been called upon to assist Securitad officers. It was a transportation matter, and the two intelligence officers seemed jovial enough. But they took little notice of the junior soldiers and mostly dealt with the commander.
Even Daryl’s special training hadn’t focused much on Securitad procedures. He never was clear what the focus had been, but suspected they were grooming him for an international assignment. He had learned a mixture of techniques to move about freely, track targets, and evade capture. There had been some interrogation work as well — both receiving and administering — but no emphasis on the Securitad itself. In retrospect, this made sense. Why train a soldier to resist your own interrogation methods?
His ruminations were interrupted by the clattering of a key in the door. Despite his careful preparation, Daryl experienced a moment of panic. He had to play his cards perfectly or a single mistake could cost him dearly. As the door opened, he took a deep breath and — with no need to pretend — adopted a suitably nervous look.