"You're really going to keep this up? Even now?"
"It's not an act."
"Fine. You want to play it that way?"
Norman typed John Doe into the name field with more force than necessary.
"Date of birth?"
Silence.
"Occupation?"
Nothing.
"Current address?"
Taylor's eyes remained fixed on the wall behind Norman's head, his expression carved from stone.
Norman slammed his hand on the desk, making the computer monitor jump.
"You think this is helping you? You think refusing to cooperate makes you look innocent?"
"I think," Taylor said quietly, "that in approximately 27 minutes, none of this is going to matter."
"There you go again with the countdown."
Norman leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
"What happens in 27 minutes? Your secret-agent friends bust through the walls?"
"Something like that."
Norman laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears.
"You know what? I don't need you to talk. Technology's a beautiful thing."
He grabbed Taylor's free hand and pulled it toward the fingerprint scanner, a sleek black pad connected to the computer.
"This will tell me everything I need to know."
For the first time since they'd entered the building, Taylor's composure cracked.
His hand tensed, fingers spreading as if to pull away, and his voice came out sharp.
"Officer, I strongly advise you not to run those prints."
"Why? They're going to come back with warrants? Outstanding charges?"
Norman pressed Taylor's thumb against the scanner, feeling a surge of vindication.
"Good. Makes my job easier."
"They're going to come back with a security flag that will end your career."
"Sure they will."
The scanner beeped, capturing the print.
Norman moved to the index finger, then the middle finger, working his way across Taylor's hand with methodical efficiency.
"You know how many times I've heard that? 'You're going to regret this, officer. I know people. You have no idea who you're messing with.' It's always the same song, different verse."
Taylor's jaw clenched as Norman finished the right hand and reached for the left.
"I'm not threatening you. I'm trying to warn you. Once those prints hit the federal database, there's no taking it back."
"Good thing I'm not planning to take it back."
Norman completed the scan and released Taylor's hand, turning back to the computer with satisfaction.
The prints were uploading.
A progress bar crawling across the screen.
"Now we wait and see who you really are."
"You already know who I am."
"Yeah? Enlighten me."
"Colonel Patrick Taylor, United States Army Special Operations Command, currently assigned to..."
He stopped himself.
"Currently assigned to a unit I can't name in an unsecured location."
Norman snorted.
"Colonel. That's a good one. Most guys go with something lower level. More believable. But you? You went straight for the top."
"I'm not lying."
"We'll see."
The progress bar hit 100%.
Norman leaned forward, ready to see the truth.
Probably a string of priors.
Maybe some outstanding warrants.
Definitely proof that this guy was exactly what Norman thought he was.