Chapter Fourteen

She was woken once more by the rattle of the window blind and the flood of hard sunshine. There was no disorientation. She sat up, bringing the sheet with her, knowing exactly who it was that stood beside her bed. The chain clinked softly. It had been returned to her wrist. Of course.

Zalaya leaned heavily on the cane. He was dressed and looked fresh and clean. He had showered and shaved while she slept.

He pointed to the bedside table next to her. “There is food. I advise you to eat it. It is better you keep your strength, for now.” He was standing next to the closet and reached down to tug open the first drawer at the foot of it. He withdrew a garment that he tossed on the bed. “I will also allow you to wear this. I have meetings most of the day and will have no use for you. You may use the shower.”

He made his way to the door leading to his office then turned to face her. “Captain Eduardo Peña y Santos,” he said flatly.

It was so unexpected that Minnie couldn’t halt the slither of shock that ran through her. When Zalaya’s one good eye narrowed, she knew she had given herself away.

“Then I have the right Duardo.” Zalaya sounded pleased. He put both hands on the cane, studying her. “I knew this man.”

Minnie was already shaken, making it easier to ride out the surprise and keep her face stiff. She stared at Zalaya, daring him to make something of her lack of reaction.

His smile broadened. “Very good,” he said cryptically and left, moving heavily and slowly.

Minnie gobbled down the food, every last crumb. She was ravenously hungry. As she showered afterward, she considered the implications of Zalaya knowing about Duardo and realized with a sinking sensation that when those around Zalaya put it together, as they would most certainly do, it would place Minnie far too close to Nick for their comfort. She would become either a pawn or a danger in their eyes. Either way, her cover story about being a lost Australian, or a member of the harmless Knights Errant would not hold up.

The garment Zalaya had tossed on the bed was a simple floral dress in a light cotton fabric, with little ties over the shoulders and buttons up the front. She slipped it on, pleased to have some protection against the ever-present camera and found it came only to upper-thigh.

As she fastened the buttons, she focused on the low sound she could hear from Zalaya’s office. It was a murmuring of voices. Yet Zalaya had implied he was going elsewhere.

Minnie crept to the door, carrying the chain so it would not clink. She tried the handle. It turned without resistance. She eased the door open a few inches and saw the room beyond was empty. She opened the door fully, checking the rest of the room. No one was there.

The voices issued from the control console. Zalaya had obviously been monitoring something before going to his meeting and had failed to switch off the sound feed before he left. The voices coming from the speaker were in Spanish, but loud and clear. She crept closer to the console and found the chain was long enough to let her reach at the closest corner.

She examined the banks of screens, searching for the one that matched the conversation she was listening to. The black and white image showed a magnificent room with a huge, carved and polished table. A boardroom?

Serrano sat in the big chair at the head of the table. Zalaya sat in the chair next to him. There was no one else.

Minnie leaned close and concentrated, listening hard.

* * * * *

Zalaya pushed his chair back from the table, brought his ankle up to the other knee and rubbed at the thigh, his fingers digging in.

Serrano realized he’d been doing that more often lately. In all other respects, the man was a machine. He barely slept. He did nothing but work, except for occasional bouts of his peculiar form of self-indulgence. Was his body finally protesting at the driving pace he set? Serrano rubbed his chin thoughtfully. If Zalaya self-imploded it would be devilishly difficult to replace him. Men of his caliber and odd talents and tastes were rare. On the other hand, it might solve a few problems that had set in.

“Is there anything else?” Zalaya asked, glancing at his watch.

“In a hurry to get back to your little toy?”

Zalaya smiled. “There’s plenty of life left in that little toy. Why waste it?” The smile faded. “Relax, Serrano. Your latest production is not in jeopardy.” He tapped the folder in front of him. “You just heard the progress report.”

“I still see no reason why this could not have been provided to me during a full council meeting. There’s nothing delicate in any of it.”

“It’s all delicate,” Zalaya shot back. “You of all people should know that within these walls there is more than one agenda at work. Why give anyone ammunition and ideas by discussing this subject in front of them?”

Serrano nodded shortly. Zalaya was right, as usual.

The tap at the door was peremptory. Demanding. Zalaya glanced at the door, his eyes narrowing. “You told someone we were meeting here?”

“Only my secretary. He would not have handed the information out to anyone unnecessarily.” He lifted his voice. “Come!”

The door immediately opened and a man strolled into the room. He was wearing one of the brand new uniforms that were now emerging from the garment factories in Mejia, on the western coast of Vistaria. He was upright, crisp, pleated...everything a proper soldier could be, except Serrano knew for a fact that Torrez was anything but a proper soldier.

Torrez’s hair was completely white, though he was not an albino. Serrano sometimes wondered what had created that coloring, for in every other respect, Torrez was genetically an average Vistarian.

Torrez saluted Serrano. “I’m sorry to interrupt you when you’re busy, General, but it is important.”

Serrano waved away the apology. “You know Colonel Zalaya, don’t you?”

Torrez spun to face Zalaya and his face shifted, surprise flickering there just for an instant. “My God. Bruno...” Torrez took a step toward him. Another one. Strong emotions made his face work. “Who would have thought I would see you again? Here, of all places?”

Serrano pressed a finger to his lips, watching closely.

Zalaya showed shock, swiftly followed by a warm pleasure. “Jose Torrez. I did not know you had traded teams.” He got to his feet, grasping for the cane. “It has indeed been too long.”

Torrez brought his hand up to curl it around Zalaya’s neck. “Too long,” he murmured and kissed him, his lips firmly against Zalaya’s.

* * * * *

Minnie staggered in shock, her back slamming up against the wall of file cabinets, making them rattle and rock on their bases. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the monitor as the white-haired man kissed Zalaya with open passion. It was unmistakably the kiss of a lover.

Her heart thundering, she found her own fingertips touching her lips.

What was more frightening was that Minnie knew the man who kissed him. The white hair was just as unmistakable as his passion for Zalaya. He had been one of the men General Blanco had gathered around him in the big house. He’d sat at the table with Nick’s officers.

What was he doing here?

At Serrano’s cough, the man stepped back, embarrassed. Zalaya rested his cane against the boardroom table. “I suggest you avert your gaze, Serrano,” he told the general. He took Torrez in his arms, his hand holding the back of the man’s head and kissed him again, thoroughly.

Serrano politely kept his eyes averted but couldn’t fail to hear the soft moan. It didn’t matter who had uttered that moan. That it had been uttered was enough.

After sixty seconds he cleared his throat again and gave it another ten seconds before looking up again. The two men had separated and Zalaya was seating himself, the customary hard expression back on his face. He glanced at Torrez as the man made his way around to the other side of the table and his expression softened just for a fleeting moment. Then he looked back at Serrano and the emotion was wiped from his face.

“Jose Torrez does not appear on any payrolls or duty rosters. I would know if he did.”

“Your memory does not fail you,” Serrano assured him. “Torrez has been doing some work for me. What the Americans call ‘going undercover’.” Serrano turned his chair to face Torrez. “You would not have left without dire news. Tell me.”

Torrez glanced at Zalaya. “Given your proclivities, Bruno, I assume that you are running Serrano’s security and communications now?”

“That is correct.”

“Then you both need to hear what I have learned. Escobedo’s household is in turmoil. Two of their women have disappeared. One of them is Jose Escobedo’s daughter. They believe both of them are here on Vistaria.”

Zalaya spread his hands on the table. “Then I know who the other is,” he said.

Serrano put it together swiftly, aided by the expression on Zalaya’s face. “That little split-tail spitfire you’re keeping in your room?” he said. “I told you she was not Australian.”

“You have her?” Torrez breathed, sitting upright. “She is the daughter of one of Escobedo’s American business associates, a man called Benning. Actually, she’s more than that. She was the lover of one of Escobedo’s favored lieutenants, just before the war broke out.”

“Captain Eduardo Peña y Santos,” Zalaya breathed.

Serrano frowned, reaching for the associated memory the name tickled. He dredged it up. “That’s right. That’s the officer you killed in the hospital,” he told Zalaya.

* * * * *

Minnie stared at the monitor. Her heart was thundering in her ears and she grew dizzy. She remembered to breathe.

How had Duardo survived his time as Zalaya with his facilities intact? The things he must have been forced to do to keep suspicions from rising! That kiss he had given Torrez...there must have been other moments like that.

Then there was the conversation about killing Duardo. It confirmed her suspicion that Duardo had taken Zalaya’s place during his stay in the hospital.

It also crystallized a fact she hadn’t faced before. In order for that exchange to take place, Duardo had dealt with Zalaya in some way. Had he killed him, as Serrano believed Zalaya had killed Duardo?

* * * * *

“This Peña—he was a mere captain,” Torrez pointed out.

“The rank was inconsequential,” Zalaya said dismissively. “Through the American woman, Peña became first a friend and then a trusted officer to Nicolás Escobedo. They worked side by side until the beginning of the war. He arrived at a position of trust through friendship.” He speared Torrez with one of his unrelenting gazes. “Much like you, Captain Torrez.”

Torrez grinned.

Zalaya got to his feet and reached for the cane. “Regardless of rank or authority, the fact is the woman we have is important to Escobedo. She is known to him. We can use that. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have much to do this day. General.” He inclined his head toward Serrano, tucked the files up under one arm and worked his way to the door.

“That bullet did not spare you much, did it, Bruno?” Torrez murmured.

Zalaya stopped level with him. “It spared my life. That is enough for now. The rest will come.” He considered his words and grinned. “It will come, or I will take it.” He nodded at Torrez and left the room, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Torrez sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “He has a woman tucked away in his rooms?”

“He always has something tucked away. You know him better than I, Torrez. You really need to ask?”

Torrez frowned. “Something about this one bothers you,” he said.

Serrano forced air through his teeth in a quiet hiss. “This one is becoming an obsession,” he admitted.

“Obsessions can be dangerous,” Torrez returned.

“They can also be considered a weakness,” Serrano pointed out. “Weaknesses can be exploited.”

* * * * *

When the door opened and Zalaya slipped through, Minnie was still sitting in his chair, watching the monitors. Now, more than ever, she was mortally aware of the roles they must play for the cameras and those who watched.

She scrambled to her feet, the extended chain tugging at her wrist, as Zalaya shut the door behind him. His gaze went from her to the screens and back.

“You fucking bastard!” she cried. “You knew. You knew all along!”

Both his hands came to rest on the top of the cane. The pose was eerily like the top-hatted gentlemen of the Victorian era. “Until this morning I did not know your soldier was the one in the hospital. How could I?”

“You killed him!”

Zalaya shrugged. “He was the enemy.”

“He was wounded!”

“So was I.”

She clawed the top of the file cabinets behind her and felt something solid and heavy come under her hand. She lifted it and heaved it at him. He swayed and the paper punch whizzed past his thigh to smash into the door behind him. It fell apart and paper confetti scattered across the floor.

“That achieves nothing,” he told her.

“Like hell.” As he took another step toward her, Minnie grabbed for another blunt object. “Don’t you dare come any closer!” she screamed.

He took another step, as if she had not spoken.

She threw the stapler at him. It was a big, industrial-strength one and only missed him because he dodged sideways again, ducking. She was out of ammunition. She backed up into the bedroom, searching for more missiles. She found the tray that had carried the food she had eaten. The plates and heavy-based water glass still sat on it. As soon as he appeared in the doorway, she let fly. This time she took the time to aim properly. All the plates and the tray missed him, but the missiles were too close together and she adjusted her aim as he reacted. As a result, the heavy water glass smashed into his shoulder, tearing a gash in his shirt and the shoulder beneath. The shirt instantly turned red with blood.

“¡Mierda!” he muttered and pulled a pistol from his pocket. He brought it up and fired off two shots at her.

Minnie screamed and threw herself to the floor, covering her head.

Another three shots thudded into the carpet by her head. The sound of the pistol in that enclosed space was like a volley of thunderclaps.

“Get up,” Zalaya said with a snap. “I aimed to miss, or you would not be still breathing.”

He had the pistol aimed at her. Dead center, with not a fraction of an inch of movement. It was like looking into the dead, blank eye of eternity. She shivered.

“I killed your precious captain, but only because he tried to kill me,” Zalaya told her.

“Bullshit! Why would Duardo try to kill you?”

Zalaya made an impatient sound. “Because I was in the same army once. I was posted to Pascuallita, just like Peña. He recognized me in the hospital.”

“You worked with Duardo?” Minnie shook her head. “Why would he kill you, then?” The reason dropped into place for her and she answered it herself, picking her phrases carefully to ensure the deception was maintained. “Because you betrayed Vistaria. You sold out to the Insurrectos.”

“Things like that happen in times of war,” Zalaya said dismissively. “Besides, I left the army long before the revolution began. Peña carried a grudge since then. At the hospital, when I was brought in and lay helpless, he saw his chance.”

“This grudge you speak of. Is that the reason you left the army?”

Zalaya waved the pistol impatiently. “Do not attempt futile diversions with me. I have no reason to give you this explanation. You should recognize that fact by remaining silent. Accept what I tell you, woman. No one else can offer you this boon.”

“Why do you bother, then?” she shot back.

“To show you how you waste your time mourning for a weak failure of a man.”

She shook her head. “He was not weak.”

“I stand here. He does not. Who is the stronger, hmm?”

“He was recovering from a bullet through the back that would have killed any other man.” She smiled. “Yet he still came close enough to killing you that you were scared into retaliating with deadly force.” She put her hands on her hips. “In fact, I’m betting he came at you with no weapons but his own bare hands and you took him out with a gun.” She pointed to the deadly eye staring at her. “I bet it was that one.”

Zalaya snapped on the safety and shoved the gun back into his pocket. “I will return in two hours. Be naked and waiting for me.”

“Why don’t you give Torrez that order instead? He’d bend over for you in a heartbeat.”

Zalaya grew still. “I will turn off the screens this time,” he said softly. “You hear far too much for your own good.”

She crossed her arms. “Who was it that ordered the roof over the outside path be taken away?”

Zalaya’s eye widened in surprise. “If I was not certain before, you have just confirmed that you can be no one other than Minerva Benning, one of only two Western women who would know there was a roof there once.”

“Yeah, like you didn’t already know,” she shot back. “Who ordered the roof be torn down?”

His eye narrowed. “You are not in a position to ask questions,” he reminded her.

“Call this my boon, then. Your heroism in slaughtering an unarmed man you can shove up your ass.”

He considered it for a moment then shrugged and looked at his watch again. “I seem to recall that General Serrano gave the order.” He walked to the door, limping heavily. He maneuvered around the broken china and shattered glass. At the door, he paused, head down, hand on the handle. Considering. He spoke softly. “It would appear that your quest here is over, would it not? You have found what you came for.”

He stepped through the door and shut it firmly behind him.

Minnie was careful not to look at the camera as she sat on the bed. Her skin crawled with the knowledge that someone other than Zalaya could be watching her right now. It had to be Serrano—the paranoid general who needed someone like Zalaya to monitor everything and everyone, the general who took away the roof of the walkway so he could watch all who approached his palace.

Who watches the watchers? There was only Serrano left. But why watch at all?

The answer was obvious.

He didn’t trust Zalaya either.

That was not the only reason for her shiver. It was Duardo’s last message to her: Your quest here is over. You have found what you came for.

Added to his last message on the mirror, it was a demand that she find a way to leave.

Without him.

* * * * *

Serrano switched off the monitor on his desk and glanced at Torrez.

“Why on earth would he bother explaining it to her at all?” Torrez asked softly. “Why the whole ‘boon’ thing?”

“I figured you would be able to tell me that,” Serrano growled. He rubbed his chin in his hand, hearing the bristles scratch.

“What did he mean by her quest?”

Serrano grimaced. “Some stupid medieval jousting challenge to steal a pillow from my bed—some mad group she’s with put her up to it. That’s how we caught her.”

“She didn’t come here for Peña?” Torrez asked sharply.

Serrano paused. “I suppose she might have. That would make more sense.” He waved a hand at the monitor. “Agh, this whole business is biting itself on the ass. I can’t tell anymore why anyone is doing anything. That’s why I’m glad you’re back, Jose. I need a clear head around here. Zalaya is losing it and I need back-up.”

“Bruno was always too easily influenced by his emotions,” Torrez said softly.

“Zalaya?” Serrano’s brows shot to his hairline. “That man is so cool he pisses ice cubes.”

Torrez grinned. “I see he has never told you the details of that grudge between him and Peña.”

Serrano settled back in his chair. “I’m listening,” he said with a smile.