She took a deep breath and composed herself. Somehow, she was going to make it out of here alive. She stared at the man behind the desk. He’d asked her a question. What was it?
Though he was seated, she could see that her interrogator was tall and thin. He wore an elaborate uniform, covered with decorations. He was handsome in a way, almost pretty. Long black hair, carefully swept back from his high forehead. Tied in a ponytail. Long black lashes and deadly gray eyes.
Spidery hands folded quietly before him on the leather top of his desk.
“I asked you a question. Your name?”
“Sorry. My name is Dr. Victoria Sweet. What’s yours?”
“I am General Manso de Herreras. How are you being treated, Dr. Sweet?”
“Abominably.”
Scissorhands smiled at this and walked back behind the desk. He perched on the edge and resumed leafing through his glossy eight-byten photos. From time to time he would look up at her with those monstrous eyes and smile at her.
“Sorry. We try to be accommodating. What kind of doctor are you?”
“I’m a pediatrician. I help children with neurological disorders. I also write books for children.”
“Ah, a fellow student of human emotions. I’ve no degree, of course, I’m a lifelong military man. Yes, but a politician as well, and so a keen observer of the psychological.”
“May I ask a question? Why am I here, General?”
“Ah. You would like to be the interrogator?”
“I’d like to know why I’m being held against my will.”
“You ask the simple ones first, Doctor. Very well. You’re here because you’re a pawn.”
“I’m a pawn?”
“Yes. The pawn resembles a queen perhaps, but she is still a little pawn. Does the little pawn play chess?”
Vicky sat silently for a moment, deciding how best to play this dangerous game. “Tell the truth, quickly,” Major Diaz had said. For no good reason at all, she decided to trust him.
“You’re holding me because you want to use me in some way. Probably to get to Alex Hawke,” Vicky said, staring him straight in the eye. “How do you intend to do that?”
“Very good! We can make this short, then, although I am thoroughly enjoying our conversation.”
“Short is good. That would include my stay here, General. When do I go free?”
“If you do exactly as I say, and the results are commensurate with your efforts, you will be released unharmed.”
“I have your word?”
“What you have, my beautiful senorita, is no choice. Checkmate, you see?”
“I see. In that case, why don’t we get started?”
“Muy bueno.”
The man opened a desk drawer and placed a cassette recorder and thick newspaper on top of the desk.
“Please bring your chair closer to the desk. You’ll be more comfortable while you’re recording.”
She did as she was told and felt a wave of terror sweep over her. The photographs Scissorhands had been looking at weren’t from his family album. They were pictures of women with fingers, ears, and nipples missing.
Vicky stifled the scream that was rising in her throat and forced herself to take deep consecutive breaths. She hardly heard what the man was saying.
“I have a statement here that I wish you to read into this microphone. State your name first and address this message to Alex Hawke. The statement simply says that you are a political prisoner. You have been taken hostage by the Cuban guerrilla group known as Telarana. You may then use your own words. Plead your case to your lover. Tell him that your life depends entirely on how well your friend Hawke follows directions.”
“What directions?”
“It is of no consequence to you. I will speak when you are finished. I want this man Hawke to use all of his connections in Washington, both at the State Department and the White House, to dissuade the United States from taking any preemptory offensive action against my new government.”
“That’s it?”
“Almost. Have you ever heard this Hawke mention a map? A treasure map, let us say?”
“No, never.”
“It is not the reason he has returned to the Exumas after all these years?”
“It’s a holiday, General. He likes to fish.”
“Ah, well. If your memory doesn’t improve, I’m sure you’ll have a chance to discuss it in detail with this gentleman on my right. Meanwhile, I will conclude the tape by saying that if there is any rescue attempt whatsoever you will be shot immediately. How does that sound?”
He handed her a copy of today’s Miami Herald. “You will then end this message by reading this front page headline and the date. So there will be no doubt on the other side. You understand?”
“Perfectly. Turn the thing on, please.”
General de Herreras flipped a switch on the recorder. “One more thing,” he said, pulling an envelope from inside his jacket and then sliding it across the desk toward her.
She opened the envelope and looked inside. It was the golden locket that Alex had given to her.
“This locket, it belongs to you?” he asked.
“It did,” Vicky replied. “Once upon a time.”
45
Gomer was sitting cross-legged behind the PX bar in total darkness. He was on the floor, a half-empty bottle of Stoli in one hand, his little pal RC in the other.
Any snoopy MPs who happen to walk by and peek in the windows, they wouldn’t see nothing.
Mesmerized by the little red numbers on RC, reading 3000 now but not for long, he barely even noticed the sickly sweet smell of old spilled beer and booze or how grunged out the sticky floor was. He’d take a breath, though, and man, it was ripe. Like a skunk had taken a whiz back here.
He took another biting swig of warm Stoli.
Hell, he’d gotten shitfaced in a whole lot worse places than this! Besides his little sidekick RC, the only light came from a round fluorescent green clock on the wall. He could see it perfectly from right where he was sitting. Keeping track of time, man, that was critical at this juncture.
In between sips of Stoli, he was very busy, going over the Big Plan. In his mind, of course. Nothing written down. To make sure he had the BP down pat, he was reciting the steps aloud to himself over and over.
First thing, you press both buttons on RC at the stroke of twelve midnight. Keep an eye on the clock. That’s why he’d strategically placed himself behind the bar so that he was hidden, but could still see the clock.
Okay, fifteen seconds after the Big Bug Checkout Countdown begins, his pecker starts ringing. Heh-heh. No, no, he gets a call on his cell phone fifteen seconds after he pushes the buttons. He felt around down in his crotch area. Yep. Cell phone was right where he’d stuffed it. Not a lot of room down there where the big dog hangs, baby, whoo-ah!
Yes. Okay. Phone rings, he answers it. What does he say? Um, shit. What did Julio tell him to say? Roach Motel! Yes! He got it! He knocks back another biting shot of room-temperature Vitamin V as a reward. He practices:
“Roach Motel?”
And then the guy on the phone says…what…“Any vacancies?”
And he answers…lemme see…“No, no vacancies, not for thirty hours!”
Yeah, baby. He had the mother down cold!
Then what?
Oh yeah. He takes his little buddy RC and heads over to Sparky’s tower station right on the no-man’s-land fenceline. Gets Sparky to let him through. Then, if Sparky ain’t on duty he—holy shit! The green fluorescent ring around the clock had caught his eye. He couldn’t goddamn believe it!
