Wake glanced at Allen and seethed, “I can’t believe I let you lead me into this.”
Allen held up his hands and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a bit of a bloody cock-up, Peter, but really, I’m sure cool heads will prevail here.” He turned his attention to Carmena Garza. “Madam, this is a misunderstanding—”
A single deep-throated scream, in piercing agony, knifed through the room from somewhere in the palace. It echoed several times in the nearby courtyards, then faded.
“This particular room is known as the Ambassador’s Chamber,” the woman began in a strange monotone, as if in a trance, ignoring the scream. “It was built to impress foreign ambassadors by having them come through the many elaborate rooms from the entrance and then wait here for the king to summon them. They were to be impressed by the grandeur of Spain. Are you impressed yet, Mr. Wake and Mr. Allen?”
Another scream, this time muffled at the end, came from outside the room. This is a nightmare, Wake told himself.
“I said—are you impressed yet, gentlemen?”
Allen answered. “By the building yes, but what’s going on here, madam? This is no longer amusing.”
She sighed. “Why, we are reestablishing the monarchy, gentlemen. One person at a time.”
Allen gave Wake a concerned look just as the sound of several soldiers’ boots reverberated through the hall nearby, getting closer. Before either man could say a word, the woman quietly said, “Be very quiet and follow me,” then disappeared back into the shadow again.
***
The long passageway grew narrower as they went further. It let in just enough ambient light to allow them to see their way along the twists and turns. The woman was far ahead of them, her footsteps barely audible. By the sounds behind them, the soldiers seemed to be heading somewhere else. Suddenly it got lighter in the passageway and Wake and Allen started up a narrow rough-stoned circular stairway, emerging bent over through a short door into a room filled with light from open windows.
Wake looked around. They had emerged from an entrance covered by a panel of the wall. A hidden entrance. The woman was standing by one of the windows and pointed outside. “Ah, yes. There are some our patriots now, doing the future king’s work.”
Wake and Allen looked out the window and down into another courtyard three floors below. Half a dozen hooded men with hands bound behind them were standing in a row. A man dressed in black came up behind one of the prisoners, gripped his shoulder forcefully, and raised an object that Wake couldn’t discern. In an instant, he slashed a large shining, curved knife across the man’s throat, the victim screaming for a mere second before collapsing in spasms. In an unseen corner of the courtyard a voice made some kind of pronouncement and a group of people applauded. Wake could hear his heart pounding as the woman spoke in her eerie tone again.
“You see, gentlemen. The Alcázar is not just a useless historical relict. Spain is not simply a quaint land of past romance. Oh no, we are a modern nation in the nineteenth century, a global empire. An enlightened people led by a benevolent Church. But it appears that we still need a king and his noblemen to lead us—and of course, to make those difficult decisions,” she nodded toward the execution ground, “of life and death in these trying times.”
Wake and Allen turned from the window to the woman, faces registering their shock. “Madam, I really think that . . .” Allen started, stopping when she held up her hand.
“Call me Carmena, please. I think we are going to be close friends very soon. In fact, I think that all three of us will be dead, by the hand of those men in the patio, within minutes if we are not close friends.”
She went to the paneled wall across from where they had emerged and knocked four times, then two more. A short section of the pale green paneling on the wall was pushed open by a man inside a tiny hidden cubicle, who quickly stood and stretched to full height, eyeing Wake and Allen closely. He embraced the woman, speaking to her in Spanish. “English? These men are English, Carmena? Why are they here? Will they help?”
She answered in English. “One is an American who speaks Spanish, the other is English. They say they are tourists, but with the actions of the American and British navies lately I think the timing is very suspicious. And they have no choice about helping us—if they want to live. I will explain it to them after the tunnel.”
The man tightened his face, speaking English to Wake. “Do what she says.”
Wake stood there, trying to fathom what he was involved with and how to get out of it—and trying to control the anger at himself for stupidly going along with his friend, like some youngster on a dare. He and Allen were in a very dangerous spot, one for which their governments would correctly deny any responsibility. After her comment, he didn’t dare tell Carmena their profession.
Another scream rent the air from below, followed by hands clapping. Allen, visibly shaken, moved toward the main doorway until Carmena said, “No! They will see you that way. We will all escape this way.”
She gathered her skirts, ducked down, and reentered the passageway they had come through, quickly moving down the steps. Wake and Allen stayed close behind her with the mysterious man in the rear, shutting the panel behind him. Instead of returning to their original place on the first floor, she made a right turn at the second level into a passage Wake hadn’t noticed before. A moment later they entered an even dimmer room, looking
