“Roll up your sleeve.” Becker spoke calmly, coldly; it was clear from his tone that he was accustomed to being obeyed. At this point I saw no reason not to.

“No doubt you’ve heard of sodium thiopental, or perhaps Sodium Pentothal as it’s more commonly known? It’s a rapid-onset short-acting barbiturate, and is often called the ‘truth serum’; which is, as I’m sure you’re aware, a gross exaggeration. However, we do find that we get the information we’re after more easily with it’s use. I do hope you don’t mind needles?”

Obviously, he was playing with me; the unnecessary lecture on drug chemistry, and now he cares if I mind needles? “Well, I don’t exactly enjoy having my arm pricked, but you’re going to jab me whether I like it or not.”

He didn’t grace that with a response, but continued preparing the hypo. As it pierced my flesh, I bit down on my lower left second molar. It was hollow and filled with
Bemegride a barbiturate antidote. I could play the part and provide the information we wanted him to have.