Authors: Kay Hooper
The government that Sereno had overthrown years before had been a brutal one, a leech sucking the life out of the island’s people. A young and handsome general then in the revolutionary army, Sereno had practically been carried into power on the shoulders of his men after having become a legend of the uprising.
For a time, there had been peace. Sereno had set about the inevitably slow and understandably complicated task of patching and rebuilding a country in tatters, a country of aching poverty, a shattered economy, and a populace weary of both. He had promised a better life, and had, by all accounts, tried his best to deliver on that promise.
It wasn’t entirely clear to anyone what had happened then. Perhaps it had been impatience on the part of some at the slowness of change, or a power struggle within his government. Whatever the reason, revolution had broken out again. A general who had been Sereno’s
comrade in the early days became a bitter enemy, taking to the hills from which he periodically stormed the city, and Kadeira was once again plunged into civil war.
“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Rafferty asked quietly, and Sarah forced herself to put speculation out of her mind.
“Yes. A shame.”
Their attention was attracted by bustle on the dock then, and they watched as a gleaming black limousine flying the flags of state drew to a stop. There were jeeps in front of and behind the limo, and when the vehicles halted, soldiers got out and stood with guns at the ready. The limo’s passenger didn’t wait for the door to be opened for him, but thrust it wide and got out.
“That isn’t Sereno,” Sarah observed as Rafferty helped her onto the dock.
“I’m not surprised,” Rafferty responded quietly, as they stood together and watched the approach of a slender man of medium height. He possessed a military carriage, despite the absence of a uniform. “Sereno’s a target no
guards could protect effectively out in the open like this.”
Sarah could feel no tension in Rafferty, and she was amazed even though she knew he wasn’t a man to get nervous—until she realized that she herself was relaxed and curiously detached. The wondering was over, and the time for doubts past. They were in this now, and the only way out was to finish what they’d been sent here to do. The realization was comforting.
The man reached them, his last steps faltering when his cool gaze fell on Sarah. His surprise was obvious, as was his dismay, but both emotions were quickly hidden. His voice was clipped when he spoke, his English perfect. “I am Colonel Durant, aide to President Sereno.”
“Rafferty Lewis. My wife, Sarah.”
How easily he says that!
she thought, feeling happy as she inclined her head politely in response to Durant’s brief bow.
Abruptly, the colonel asked, “Have we met, Mrs. Lewis?”
“No, Colonel, we haven’t,” she responded calmly. She met his hard stare, and knew the
exact moment when Durant realized she merely resembled, but was not, the Sara he had known.
“Welcome to Kadeira,” Durant told them. “President Sereno extends his compliments and invites you to stay at his home while you are here. He asked me to assure you that your yacht will be protected, and the comfort of your crew seen to.”
Rafferty glanced over his shoulder and saw Siran’s dark face remain expressionless at the assurance. He looked back at Durant. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“My men will see to your luggage.” He made a slight gesture and two men detached themselves from the rest and headed for the
Thespian
. Then Durant gestured toward his car, leading the way.
As the limousine wound through the city streets, the scars of Kadeira were even more visible. There were bombed buildings and shops with shuttered windows. Rotting vegetables were thrown at the gleaming car from the
obscurity of alleyways. But there were a few construction crews at work, their efforts guarded by soldiers and jeeps with machine guns mounted in them, and a handful of shops were open for business.
They passed a radio station, its windows and doors boarded up and the tower behind it a shorn-off mass of twisted metal. And they passed the prison.
Though he had commented on nothing else, Durant did direct their attention to the low, square building with barred windows and an impressive number of guards patrolling it. Martial law was, of course, in effect, he explained, but the streets were safe; the rebels had been driven into the hills after their last foray into town some days before.
He made no comment on the vegetables thrown, though it was clear evidence of the disillusionment felt by the city’s people for their government.
Less than half a mile from the prison was the presidential home and if Rafferty and Sarah had expected a palatial estate, they were
disappointed. Both saw a huge and imposing building looming on their left, but instead of stopping there the car turned in the opposite direction. Either seeing or sensing their surprise, Durant explained that the building they had just passed was the old presidential palace, turned into a hospital when Sereno came to power.
Rafferty and Sarah made no comment, but they glanced at each other, and both of them read the identical thought: there was, it seemed, some decency in Sereno’s regime. Shades of gray.
Both were also aware that Durant had quite deliberately drawn their attention to the prison, and they could only believe it had been a subtle warning of what happened to enemies of the state. For Sarah especially, it was sobering.
After passing through a guarded gate, the limousine stopped in the curving driveway in front of a two-storied building finished in stucco. As the residence of one man, it was somewhat imposing, but there was nothing palatial about the house.
Multicolored flowers typical of the island had been planted in beds and boxes around the outside in an effort to soften the stark whiteness of the building, and some attempt had been made to fashion the window bars in a decorative style meant to partially soften the impact of their bleak purpose.
As they got out of the car, Rafferty saw guards strategically but unobtrusively placed all around the house, and he knew that Sarah had seen them as well. Both of them heard the hollow clanging of a cell door closing behind them, and they followed Durant into the house.
They were shown into a book-lined room, too informal to be an office, and were politely asked to wait while Durant went to inform their host of their arrival. Rafferty, seeing the expression on Sarah’s face, asked, “What?”
She looked at him. “Oh, it’s just that I
like
this house, and I didn’t expect to.” Glancing toward the closed door, she reached into her purse and drew out what looked like a small transistor radio; it could be used as a normal radio, but when buttons were pushed in a
certain sequence, it became instead a device for detecting tiny microphones.
After a moment, she replaced the radio in her purse. “Clear. How paranoid
is
paranoid?”
“You mean us?” Rafferty smiled a little. “In this situation, we shouldn’t ask that question too often. Best not to take chances.” He looked around the room, interested. “But I know what you mean about the house. It’s nice, but very simple and comfortable.”
“Hardly the home of a megalomaniac.” She lifted an eyebrow at him quizzically. “Shades of gray?”
Rafferty moved uneasily to a set of French doors which opened onto a terrace. “I wish I knew. I’ve a feeling we’ll have to throw out everything we’ve heard about the man and trust our instincts. I also have a feeling,” he turned to stare at her, “that this assignment isn’t nearly as simple as I thought—and was told. There’s more at stake here, isn’t there? Not merely a transfer of information.”
Sarah perched on the arm of a flowered sofa and sighed. She met his steady gaze, her own
faintly pleading. “Hagen can be very persuasive.”
Rafferty didn’t look hurt or offended, merely resigned. “I thought so. He talked a lot to you about one’s word being one’s bond, and then got you to promise to keep something to yourself awhile?”
“I hate being manipulated,” she said somewhat fiercely. “I think he brainwashed me.”
“Well, I don’t blame you for keeping your word, however he managed to extract it from you. When were you supposed to tell me the rest?”
“Once we got here.”
“Past the point of no return? It figures.”
She glanced toward the closed door and lowered her voice. “We
are
here for information, but it isn’t written down. It’s in someone’s head. You, uh, recall the toy manufacturer from Billings?”
Rafferty sighed. “Don’t tell me.”
“Yes. It seems Sereno wasn’t so paranoid after all, I guess. The man was working undercover, and was gathering information on the
terrorist organization. We—we have to get him out of prison and off the island.”
He stared at her, somewhat dazed. “We have to—? Sarah, my love, my darling, are you out of your mind? Did you
see
that prison?”
Despite everything, Sarah almost wanted to laugh at his despairing horror. But she didn’t. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Depressing, wasn’t it?”
“So Hagen never intended for you to use your skills as a cryptographer, right?”
She nodded.
“And he chose you because of your resemblance to the other Sara?”
Again she nodded. “What did Hagen do, demand your firstborn child as forfeit if you didn’t agree to this insanity?”
Sarah lifted her hands in a helpless gesture and looked bewildered. “I know it’s irrational. I knew it when he briefed me, dammit. And I don’t know why I agreed. I really don’t! It just seemed to happen somehow.”
Rafferty went to her and lifted one hand to his lips. Very gently, he said, “After this, I’m
going to keep you away from salesmen, politicians, and other unscrupulously charming people. They seem to have an odd effect on you. I am also going to kill Hagen at the first opportunity.”
Sarah conjured up a rueful smile. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I—I tend to buy things I don’t really need if people ask me to.”
Rafferty asked the ceiling for inspiration and clearly got no reply. He looked back at Sarah. “At least tell me Hagen knew the layout of the prison? And put together something remotely resembling a plan so we can do this insane thing?”
“Of course he had a plan.”
“Well?”
Sarah didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed when the opening door kept her from replying. She got to her feet. Still holding Rafferty’s hand, but a bit more tightly now, and both turned to meet their host.
Photographs and television tend to flatten a personality and rob it of much of its life and
sparkle, and so a truly charming and charismatic person first met through the media often seems overwhelming when met in the flesh. That was quite definitely the case with President Sereno.
He was unusual among his countrymen, in that he was over six feet tall and powerfully built. He was dressed casually in a white shirt unbuttoned at the throat, and dark slacks. But the informal attire did nothing to conceal the physical strength of broad shoulders and powerful limbs or the honed grace of his movements. He was dark, black-haired and black-eyed, his lean face handsome and bearing none of the marks of his reportedly difficult and violent life.
But there had to be scars, Sarah thought, inside if not outside. It was evident that Sereno didn’t wear his where they could be seen. He could have been taken for a man ten years younger than his thirty-eight years.
“Good afternoon. I’m Andrés Sereno.” His English was easy and idiomatic, the accent
faintly American due to the American mercenary who had taught him to speak the language when he was little more than a child. His voice was deep and calm and sure, a voice that could move a country.
Sarah watched as he came forward to shake Rafferty’s hand, and she barely heard the introduction. She saw that Sereno’s shoulders were braced, as if to ward off a blow. And she felt, with a woman’s intuitive awareness, that although he had been prepared by his colonel to see her, Durant had not entirely convinced him she was not his Sara.
She offered her hand by instinct, and realized when she felt the faint chill of his that he was nervous. Then she met his black eyes, and saw a very small light go out in them.
She agreed with none of his policies and had come prepared to despise him. She had been shocked by his wounded country. She felt no attraction to him as a man although she was aware of his sheer magnetism. She was appalled by his willingness to shelter terrorists in his country, even if he didn’t aid them with
arms or influence. And she was quite definitely afraid of the danger he posed to Rafferty and herself.
But in that flashing instant, when she looked up at him, what she saw in his eyes almost broke her heart.
Nearly an hour later, after having been shown through the lovely garden and house by their charming host, been given drinks, and shared casual conversation, they found themselves in a light, airy suite on the second floor. Their luggage had been unpacked. They found Rafferty’s gun lying innocently in the drawer of the nightstand, still loaded. And Sarah had automatically checked and found the rooms clear of listening devices or other troublesome electronics.
“You’re not in danger of succumbing to him, are you?” Rafferty asked her, but it was clear from his tone that he knew it wasn’t true and also knew she was troubled.
Sarah sat on the wide bed and lifted her
shoulders in a shrug, puzzled. “No, no. I just can’t figure him out. We
know
the things he’s done, he doesn’t deny them himself, and yet … There’s this house, and the hospital, and his welcome of us—and
him
, dammit.”
“All of which,” Rafferty pointed out quietly, “can be explained with the rest. What better way to endear himself to his people than by living simply and turning the former presidential palace into a hospital to help them, assuming he managed to supply and staff the hospital? As for his welcome—he’s doing a favor for a powerful man, and fully expects one in return. And we knew he was charismatic before we got here.”
“I know. It makes sense.”
“But you aren’t convinced?”
“He left your gun.”