Royal Hues of Blue: Book One Page 15

  Fuentes nodded in silent agreement. The old man was right about that much; she was a tigress. Her strong spirit was something he had known he would need to tame before they took their vows. He was handsome and dashing and could have virtually any of the beautiful young Rista women he wanted. He’d bedded his share, but none of them presented him the opportunity Maria did. She was the daughter of the Rista Federation’s biggest hero; Juan Rodriguez. She was his ticket to a fast rise through the ranks and the realization of his boundless ambition. He was already the youngest to ever make the rank of captain, and he had his sights set much higher than that. He decided to shift the conversation towards more friendly territory.

  “I am eager to get started helping with the search, sir. Just give me my orders.”

  “I am personally handling the search. I have a different mission for you. The Soona have been positioned along the Arcangel since the early spring. Once they got there, they should have attacked us as soon as they were supplied and reinforced. They didn’t, and they are still just sitting there. I want you to find out what they are up to. Go behind their lines and find out what’s being whispered among their people and where they are positioning forces and why. You will be briefed later this morning. For now, let us have some coffee while we wait for updates on the search.”

  Fuentes adopted his most sympathetic tone and posture before speaking.

  “Sir, we will find her. I know she will be just fine. If anyone should be worried, it is this pilot. He doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into with her.”

  Rodriguez almost laughed… almost.

  Chapter Nine

  Master Sergeant Daniel Heredia headed down the brightly lit hallway of Facility 4 with a bounce in his step. The walls were a crisp shade of eggshell white, and the floors a highly polished obsidian black mixed with silver flecks. The agents of the facility were all lean and muscular, and he smiled and nodded to greet each one as he passed them. He looked around at the different displays mounted in glass cases along the wall; all of them pictures of great victories in the war against the Soona. Heredia stopped to admire his favorite: the raising of the Rista flag over Amarillo. His father had fought under Juan Rodriguez himself in that battle and was present at the flag-raising. He had told Daniel the story of that glorious victory many times. The people of the Federation had become weary of the war and were demanding a truce be negotiated. The victory at Amarillo had secured breathing room between their main lands and their two hated enemies; the Soona to their north and the Texans to their east. Support for the war had soared after that triumph, and the Federation Executive Board had approved new contracts with the companies who built the Rista war machine.

  Heredia left the display and continued down the hall. It had been almost a week since the infamous John Wallace had been brought to Facility 4. It was a place so secretive, there were not even rumors of its existence. Heredia hadn’t been able to believe who it was when Wallace had been delivered. The redheaded Soona had struck fear into those who lived in the western lands of the Rista Federation. Never before had anyone been able to take back the land the Ristas had taken from the Soona many decades ago. Wallace had done that and more. The Federation had no answer for him. Wallace had caught them off-guard time and again and driven mile after mile into their territory. He had taken the stronghold of New Montezuma, and gained access to the Arcangel River for the Soona. Only a brilliant ambush devised by the RID had stopped his advance. Now, Wallace was here; brought to Facility 4 in the dead of the night by the RID under the highest level of secrecy possible.

  Heredia arrived at the office door of the commander of Facility 4: Colonel Jose Martinez. The hidden facility had just become operational within the last few weeks, and Martinez had charged him with securing the prisoners who were brought in and overseeing their interrogations. He answered only to Martinez himself, and he was careful to stay in the colonel’s good graces. He was nothing if not ambitious, and he had worked hard to get to this position. He pushed the button at the side of the door and examined himself in the mirrored glass. He knew Martinez could see him as through the door were a window, but from the hallway, the door was simply a mirror. He stood waiting until a barely audible buzz came from the door, and it popped open a few inches. He opened the door and walked in. He closed the door behind him and snapped to attention before the Colonel at his desk.

  “Good morning, sergeant,” Martinez said with a slightly bemused tone, “how was your weekend?”

  “Very good, sir,” Heredia answered.

  “At ease, sergeant,” Martinez urged. “Have a seat.”

  Heredia sat down in a comfortable leather chair, and Martinez slid a piece of paper across the desk. He examined it, and his eyes widened as he processed its contents.

  “Is this confirmed?” he asked incredulously.

  “The Soona are denying it. They confirm there was a shootout at the river, but they deny there was a woman involved.”

  “But we know they took her,” Heredia protested.

  “We know because our agent who brought us Wallace saw them drag her off. Nobody outside of this facility knows we have him or that he is even alive.

  Heredia said nothing. He was part of the RID, which meant he was outside of the high general’s chain of command, but the old man still struck fear into him. General Juan Rodriguez was a Rista legend. The man was a tactical genius. Rodriguez was the most popular hero the Rista people had, and he knew it. There were whispers he had decided to run for office, and this terrified the politicians. They knew he would win any office he ran for, so they constantly sought to appease him. He could buck any orders he was given without consequence. The RID had absolutely no influence over him, and he made his suspicion of them quite clear. He was almost a nation unto himself. He answered only to the President himself, and even the President was careful not to upset him. Now the general was about to receive the most upsetting news possible, and Heredia knew all hell was about to break loose.

  “There is nothing we can do,” Martinez said with a shake of his head. “There is no way we can tell the High General what we know without him finding out we are holding Wallace. The SSS is keeping it under wraps just as we are. If they don’t already know we have Wallace, they will soon find out. We can’t expect Rodriguez’s daughter to not tell them.”

  “Sir, what on earth was she doing with Wallace anyways?” Heredia asked the question incredulously.

  “I think it’s about time we begin finding that out,” Martinez said. “Have Wallace brought to Room 52. It’s time we get acquainted.”

  “Right away, sir,” Heredia answered. “Should I also bring a taser, an injection kit or any other interrogation tools?”

  “Yes,” Martinez replied, “coffee.”

  John Wallace sat in the darkness, and wondered how long he had been there. He knew he was in some sort of padded room because he had felt his way around the walls and explored the interior. Not even the smallest beam of light entered the room anywhere. He was in absolute darkness, and had been there long enough to have slept several times. He had been given some sort of paste to eat every so often through some sort of opening in the door, and he had discovered a toilet in one corner. He had drunk water from the tank when his thirst had become overwhelming, and done what he needed to in the bowl. He could hear nothing other than the sounds he made himself, except for when he had been given his food. He had no idea where he was or how he had been brought here. He had lost consciousness by the river and woke up in this place. He knew they must have drugged him. He had been left alone to wonder what had happened to Maria. She was all he could think about. He knew they would never allow him to see her again. He had been so close to a new beginning with her. Now, he was here in this hole.

  John was shaken from his thoughts by a sudden noise. He heard the loud sound of the door swinging free of its frame and welcomed the cool air that rushed into the room. He was suddenly aware of how overheated he had felt, and he took a deep breath of coo
l air. Two pairs of hands grabbed him under the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. He didn’t understand how they could see him in the pitch black room until the truth dawned on him as they led him into the hallway: He was blind! The Ristas had taken his sight, just like he had heard they had done to prisoners in the past. He could hear the echo of boots in the hallway, and the air smelled of some sort of lemon-scented disinfectant. John had no idea where he was, but he was pretty sure he was about to have the worst day of his entire life.

  John felt himself being led into a room where he was placed in a chair and secured with some sort of strap around his waist. John felt someone grab hold of his arm and the pinch of a hypodermic needle. John was too weak to resist anything. He felt a strange sensation beneath his skin as whatever had been injected into him began to spread through his bloodstream, and he wondered what horrors awaited him. He heard the shuffling of footsteps around him and the sound of things being set down on some sort of surface before him. He heard something being poured, and he immediately detected the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. The bustling around him subsided with the sound of retreating footsteps and the closing of a door, followed by a brief humming sound. He sat quietly, waiting for whatever was about to come next. There was nothing; no sound, no punch in the face, no hot irons placed against his skin. He simply sat in complete silence. He thought of Vanessa and wondered how long it would be until he joined her in the next life. He wondered if Maria was still a part of this life or had moved on to the next. John no longer cared about the war. He simply wanted to know if Maria was alright.

  “Well, Captain Wallace,” a voice came from somewhere in front of him, “I never thought I would find myself having breakfast with you.”

  John stiffened in surprise for just a moment. He realized he was suddenly beginning to see blurred images. He blinked his eyes furiously as he tried to focus.

  “The injection we gave you will return your sight quickly. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  “What did you do to me?” John asked.

  “It is a simple chemical concoction that paralyses the eyes until the antidote is given, or enough time passes for it to wear off. I regret having to give it to you. I’m sure you understand the need for discretion when transporting prisoners. How do you take your coffee? There is cream and sugar here if you desire it.”

  “Just black for me, thank you,” John said. “Where am I?”

  “You are a guest of the Rista Federation.”

  “You mean, a prisoner,” John retorted. He began to see images and forced his eyes to focus.

  “Semantics, Captain Wallace. Please, let us eat. We both know you are hungry.” The man removed the lids from two plates in front of them to reveal scrambled eggs topped with sausage, rice, sauce and vegetables. John’s sight had returned, even though his eyes hurt him a great deal, and he recognized the food as being similar to a dish Maria made that he enjoyed. The man across from him looked to be in his forties, clean shaven with chiseled features and very fit. John watched as he picked up his fork and dug into his own food. He took a bite and made a face that showed his immense enjoyment.

  “Absolutely tremendous, as always,” he said as John sat watching him. “I do insist you join me. We have a long day ahead of us, and you will want to make sure you have plenty of energy.”

  John picked up his plastic fork and dug into his food. He took a small bite and could not believe how good it was. He suddenly realized how ravenous his hunger was, and he tore into his meal. He felt as though he could eat the entire meal in 4 bites, and the hot food warmed his stomach in a thoroughly satisfying manner as he ate. He looked up to see his dining companion regarding him with an almost amused look.

  “Captain Wallace, I am Colonel Jose Martinez, the director of this facility. We will be spending a great deal of time together in the weeks to come, so why don’t we get to know each other a bit?”

  “Okay, sure,” John said through a mouthful of food. “Why don’t you tell me all about yourself?”

  “Why not?” Martinez laughed as he picked up his coffee. “We are both gentlemen and officers. We can talk as peers, for we are both leaders of men, are we not? What would you like to know?”

  “I don’t know. What’s your sign?”

  “You are strapped to a chair in an undisclosed location, sitting across a table from the facility commander, and your biggest question is to know what constellation I was born under?”

  “I thought you wanted to get to know each other,” John said with a shrug as he took another bite.

  Martinez sat staring at John as the Soona kept eating his food as though they were old friends discussing the weather. Martinez seemed to be trying to make up his mind about something while John kept nonchalantly digging in. Finally, the Rista took a sip of his coffee.

  “Libra, Captain Wallace. And you?”

  “I don’t know. I never got into that superstitious mumbo jumbo.”

  Martinez let out a laugh in spite of himself.

  “Even in the face of being at your enemy’s mercy, you keep your sense of humor, Captain Wallace! Excellent! This is quite excellent. I’ve heard you do not rattle easily. It is good to see it up close.”

  Martinez took a long sip of his coffee as John finished his food and pushed his plate away. He wasn’t sure why Martinez was being so hospitable to him, but he was sure it wasn’t out of a desire for his friendship. He picked up his own coffee and savored the hot, dark liquid as it ran down his throat. Coffee had been one of the few things he had missed during his time with Maria, and he quickly finished his entire cup.

  “May I?” John asked pointing at the coffeepot.

  “Help yourself,” Martinez answered warmly. “We may be enemies, John Wallace, but that doesn’t mean we cannot break bread together respectfully.”

  “Thank you, colonel,” John answered as he poured himself another cup of steaming hot java. He knew the colonel was biding his time before finally getting around to whatever it was he wanted. He was too well-trained to show impatience or believe Martinez truly saw him as a peer. It was a psychological tactic he had seen the SSS use many times with great effectiveness. He leaned back in his chair, took a lazy sip of his coffee and smiled.

  Martinez smiled broadly as the two men regarded each other in silence. He took a sip of coffee, never taking his eyes from Wallace. He set the cup down and smiled.

  “Captain, I know you are as great a soldier as there is on either side of this war. I will not sit here and try to extract strategic information from you. We both know you will not give me anything particularly useful. I would very much like for us to be two gentlemen who can talk to each other with respect as officers. I know the rank of captain in your army translates to something between a colonel and a general in mine. I suppose this makes us peers… so I will refer to you as John from here on, and you may feel free to address me as Jose.”

  John looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and contempt.

  “What’s your game here, Jose?” He said his name with mocking emphasis.

  “All of this is a game, John. This entire war is a game. I know you are not ready to listen to me yet, and that is fine. Here in Room 52, we are totally secure. It is the one room in the entire facility where we can talk without fear of listening devices, cameras or even someone holding their ear to a glass as they press it against the door. This room is soundproof and designed to be totally secure. We can talk in total secrecy here without fear of being overheard. You ask me what my ‘game’ is? I will tell you soon enough. Right now, you are not ready to listen.

  So, before we reach the point where we can respectfully discuss things in a productive manner, let me show a gesture of my good will. You will be given quarters to live in that are more suitable for a warrior of your stature. You have my respect, John, and I am going to show you that respect. I ask only for the same in return.”

  John didn’t know what to say or do. He had expected much, much worse, but he wasn’t going to ar
gue with not being tortured. He watched as Martinez pushed a button and a buzzing sound came from the door. It opened, and a tall, muscular man entered.

  “This is Sergeant Heredia,” Martinez said nodding at the stone-faced man. “He will escort you to your new quarters. I hope you find them to your liking. As long as our conversations go well, as long as they remain respectful, you will keep quarters worthy of an officer. Take the rest of the day and relax. We will talk again tomorrow.”

  Heredia gestured towards the door, and John stood and left with him. Martinez took another sip of coffee and became lost in his thoughts. He was considering a very risky move here, and he needed to be sure it was the right one. Time would tell.

  The members of the Rista Special Forces were the elite soldiers of the Rista Federation. They were a formidable force that was highly respected, even feared, by both the Soona and the Texans. High General Rodriguez had spent many years of his career there, as had Colonel Martinez. It was almost a requirement for moving into the higher command ranks, so every ambitious young soldier tried to qualify for a spot and endure the hellacious training to become a member. There was a great deal of prestige that came with a Special Forces patch. The most dangerous of their units were elite team that operated behind enemy lines. In the east, these were commanded by the brightest young star of the Federation military: Diego Fuentes.

  Captain Fuentes was handsome, muscular, charismatic and said to be so intelligent he tested at genius level in every field for which the army tested. His men loved him because he personally led each major mission. He would not eat until all of his men had been fed. He made sure the needs of each man under his command were met before tending to his own. His grandparents had basically built the Rista medical industry, and his parents owned a pharmaceutical empire they ran from the Rista capital city of Hidalgo. Fuentes had been the golden boy of the capital. He could have had his choice of any of the beautiful daughters of the wealthy and powerful, but Fuentes only had eyes for military glory. That had changed when the High General had introduced him to Maria. She was the first woman who had not swooned at his charms from the moment she met him. She had been a polite and proper hostess, but she had given no indication of being impressed by him in the least. He had spent the rest of that week wooing her without success. By the time he left for his next assignment, he was smitten by the high general’s strong-willed daughter.