Authors: Lorena Angell
“Is Victor treating you good?” Paul asked her.
“I don’t have any new bruises if that’s what you’re
wondering.”
“Neither do I.”
“But he will,” Victor said, pushing the door all the way
open as he walked in with another large man. “It’s time for you to leave now,
Sierra.”
“No! Please don’t hurt him!”
“I promised you I’d let you see him every day. You’ve seen
him. Now go, and you can see him tomorrow.”
“What are you going to do to him?”
“I’m not going to kill him,” said Victor. “Don’t worry,
love.” He tenderly brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.
Sierra turned her head to Paul, wondering if he knew what
was about to happen. She knew from her own experiences with Reginald that
“not going to kill him”
meant
“everything but kill him.”
Tears
filled her eyes, and her hand covered her mouth.
“It’s alright,” Paul said to her. “Go on. I’ll see you
tomorrow.” He winked at her and smiled.
Dr. Roth took her by the elbow and walked her out the door.
The door closed with a thud, and she dug her heels into the ground. “Sierra, we
have to go.”
“No!”
“Be strong for Paul. He’ll be strong for you.” He pulled her
down the hall to the medical rooms.
And then when they’re done with him,
I’ll fix him up like I fixed you all those many times.
She strained her ears to hear any beating or abuse from
Paul’s cell but heard nothing. It gave her a little comfort, but not much.
The rest of the day, her mind dwelled on Paul. Some kind of
a ceremony was taking place that afternoon, but she’d been so consumed with
worry that she missed out on the importance of it all.
In the throne room of the palace, a large group of reporters
with cameras and microphones had gathered. Sierra’s handmaid had helped her
into the elaborate gown and touched up her makeup and hair before being ushered
into the large room with flashing bulbs.
Reginald and his wife sat regally in the two thrones, with
Victor standing at the side of his mother. Sierra’s handmaid led her to
Victor’s side, and Victor took her hand in his. She shot a look at him, and he
squeezed her hand, then he leaned and whispered in her ear, “This is a very big
moment for my father, and you won’t screw it up. Do you hear?”
She nodded.
“Now smile for the cameras as we make history. If you choose
to be defiant, Paul will pay for it.”
Images of Paul curled up in a ball on the floor of the cell
flew through her mind, and she plastered a fake smile on her nervous face and
turned to the crowd. She listened as reporters questioned Reginald about her
family lineage and his intentions of bringing her into the family. It amazed
her how Reginald went to such lengths to convince the people of Rendier that he
was a good guy. She knew the questions wouldn’t be directed at her, so she
really didn’t have to pay attention to what was said. No way would Reginald
risk her saying the wrong thing to tip off the public to her real life.
The name Montgomery was thrown around several times, even
with the accusation that Reginald was only trying to win support. He, of
course, pointed out that the late Donald Montgomery had been his personal
advisor until he died a few months ago. Victor and Sierra had attended the same
school and fell in love, so when her father died, leaving her with no family,
they offered her residency at the palace. Victor had already proposed, of
course.
Sierra mentally rolled her eyes and wished she could shake
her head, but she knew Paul would suffer if she acted up. The answer to her
question about the delayed wedding came when a reporter asked about the threat
on her life. Reginald told him that the insurgents were responsible for the
planned attack, and the person to blame had been apprehended. He told them the
reason they decided to hold a private wedding was because of the possibility of
unknown threats to her life.
She listened as Victor answered the question addressed to
him: Were they planning on trying for an heir soon? Of course his answer
included him pulling her hand to his lips and kissing it and saying, “If this
press conference could wrap up, we’d get to working on that.” Sierra’s blush
was genuine, and of course the crowd cheered. But then again, it was mostly
male.
The questions concluded, and Reginald thanked everyone for
coming. They all exited out of the room, and Sierra threw a sad glance over her
shoulder just as she was about to pass through the door. A single camera
flashed, capturing her emotion forever.
She spent the rest of the day in her room, hoping Victor
would leave her alone. She wanted to go see Paul, but she knew better than to
try. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
*****
Dr. Roth pulled up to the curb in front of the morgue. He
glanced in his rearview mirror, and then out his side windows. There was no one
around. He grabbed the black garbage bag from the passenger seat and got out of
the car. Looking to the right and to the left, he walked to the door and
entered.
“Dr. Roth, good to see you,” Charlie, the morgue director,
greeted him.
“You said you found good candidates for me?”
“Yes. The height you ordered for the girl is dead on,”
Charlie chuckled at the unintended pun and his large belly shook, “but the male
is a bit short.”
“How much shorter?”
“Two inches, but other than that, they should work for you.”
“That’s fine. They will be lying down, and I don’t think
anyone is going to notice the height difference. Are their records clear?”
“Yes, the male is a convicted murderer whom Reginald ordered
killed yesterday. He hasn’t any family to claim his body, and he’s on the
docket for cremation. The female is a Jane Doe, a street urchin. I couldn’t
find any information on her, so she’s good to go.”
“I owe you one,” Dr. Roth said as he lifted the black bag to
the table. “Will you help me dress them?”
An hour later, the two dead imposters were dressed, and the
girl had a splint similar to Sierra’s attached to her leg. They placed a ring
on her left finger matching Sierra’s new wedding set.
“Alright, I’ve got a guy who will pick up the bodies later tonight.”
Dr. Roth handed a thick envelope of cash to the director. “For your silence.”
“You don’t have to do that, John. I mean, I’ll take it, but
you don’t have to buy my silence. It’s yours one hundred percent.”
Dr. Roth gave the man a heartfelt hug. “You know, once I’m
situated, I’ll help you and your family cross.”
“Thank you. That means so much to me. Oh, John, one more
thing. These people you are dealing with, even though they aren’t on Rawlings’s
side, they’re not always on the good side either. They draw their own lines in
the sand, if you know what I mean.”
After leaving the morgue, Dr. Roth drove his yellow
four-door sedan to the address on the note card he’d been given. He was in the
warehouse district, where most of the buildings were vacant. He waited in the
vehicle as instructed, feeling nervous even though he knew he shouldn’t, but it
wasn’t every day he met with the leader of the rebellion.
Chapter 12
Dr. Roth watched as two men in dark clothing exited the
building in front of him and approached his vehicle. One was a good six inches
taller than the other.
“Dr. Roth?”
“Yes.”
“Leave the keys in your car and come with us,” the taller
man ordered.
He did as he was told and exited the car. Suddenly feeling
very vulnerable to attack, Dr. Roth stepped up his pace to fall in step with
the two men. They held the door open for him to enter first, and he reluctantly
did so. The room he had entered was plain and empty. Several doors lined the
perimeter of the room, all closed. The two men stepped into the room behind him
and immediately took him face first to the ground.
“What’s going on?” Dr. Roth struggled to ask.
“We need to make sure you are who you say you are.”
“So you think by checking my wallet you’ll find a valid ID?
Who’s to say I didn’t have one made … what the.…” Dr. Roth was completely
shocked by the fact that his pants were being removed. He struggled with them,
not knowing what their intentions were. It became obvious that other people had
joined them in the room.
A voice said, “Look for it on his upper outer left thigh.”
Dr. Roth had a deep scar in that area, but he didn’t have
any idea how these people would know. But if it proved his identity, then so be
it. Eventually, he was let go, and he quickly pulled his pants up and fastened
them. He turned around to see at least twenty men, all carrying automatic
rifles. In the center stood a man with a certain air about him signifying
leadership, or maybe it was just the fact he was the only one wearing a hat and
not carrying a gun. He stood taller than most of the men in the bunch, and his
broad shoulders looked like they could handle most anything placed upon them.
This particular man began speaking. “Dr. John Randall Roth, Reginald
Rawlings’s personal physician. The same man who poisoned the entire palace just
a few days ago, save for a small handful of men who helped clear the way for
Sierra Montgomery’s escape. I’m Clive B. Roberts. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Dr. Roth shook the hand extended toward him. “Is this how
you greet all your guests? Public humiliation?” he smiled at Clive and adjusted
his glasses.
“I don’t even need to explain how imperative it is that our
operations remain secret. I do apologize for any embarrassment you
experienced.”
“How did you know about my, ah, scar?” Dr. Roth noticed
Clive had several scars across his face and forehead.
“I know your history, Doctor. I’ve researched you
thoroughly, and in the process I discovered you spent time in a hospital in
Baylend because of a car crash. You had to have your hip replaced. In this
business, no one’s word is good for anything. We need irrefutable proof.”
“Well, I’ve got something to talk to you about that will
make you rethink your methods of positively identifying people. Irrefutable
proof will take on a whole new meaning.”
“And that’s why I’ve invited you into our circle. Walk with
me, Dr. Roth.” The two of them entered one of the doors and proceeded down a
long, dimly lit hallway. A staircase at the end of the hall dumped them down a
level and into a large room that held several desks and many people. Men,
women, and children, all dressed in rags and malnourished, stared at him.
“Doctor, as you can see, we need people like you on our
side. Most of the men and women here are wanted by Rawlings for some reason or
another. They can’t afford to flee across the border, like Sierra Montgomery,
or they would.”
Dr. Roth didn’t like the tone of voice Clive used when he
referred to Sierra. They entered a private office of sorts.
“Now, Dr. Roth, may I call you John?”
“Yes.”
“John, what is your plan, and how may I assist you?”
“I plan on staging the deaths of Sierra and her male
companion. I need an explosion to burn their bodies beyond recognition so I can
use my medical training to make the identification.”
“You’ve got doubles?”
“They are ready to go at the morgue. The director is in
league with me.”
“What medical records will you use to prove the male’s
identity?”
“I’ll figure something out. Reginald trusts me, plus
Sierra’s double will be sporting an identical wedding ring and a splint on her
leg. Any male found with Sierra would be easily accepted as the Bronson boy.”
Clive’s head tilted, and his chin dropped to his chest. “Did
you say … Bronson?”
“Yes.”
“A Bronson from Baylend?”
Dr. Roth hesitated a second. “Yes. His name is Paul.”
“He’s must be related to Martha Bronson. A grandson perhaps.
Martha’s husband’s name was Paul.”
“I don’t know a Martha Bronson,” Dr. Roth admitted.
“And why should you? She would be in her seventies by now.
How old is this boy, Paul?”
“He looks to be Sierra’s age.”
“What do you know about him? Is he to be trusted?”
“Sierra trusts him, and that’s good enough for me. Is there
more I need to know about Martha Bronson?”
“Nothing that concerns you at this time. How certain are you
that Reginald will believe your medical opinion?”
“He didn’t suspect me in the poisoning. He allows me full
unsupervised contact with both Sierra and Paul.”
“Sounds like he trusts you.”
“He does.”
“Victor believes exactly what we want him to believe, but
Reginald is a harder nut to crack. It relieves me to hear you’ve broken through
Reginald’s shell.”
“What do you mean? You think you have control over Victor?”
“We have someone on the inside feeding us information about
Victor.”
“How many men do you have in the palace?”
“Not nearly enough.”
“But enough to make you think you have control over Victor?
I’m not sure we’re talking about the same Victor.”
“We are. Our people are everywhere in the palace.”
“Are they spying on me too?”
“A little, but it’s for a greater cause.”
“Your cause? Or the best interests of the country?”
“You don’t think our cause is in the best interests of the
country?”
“I think the best interests of the country are so far out of
reach that you’re trying your darndest to keep some kind of involvement and
inclusion. I think your intentions are just that, yours.”
“You doubt this organization?”
“If I saw actual organization here, I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“You know, Dr. Roth, I’m not sure I get you. You are
determined to defy Reginald, but you don’t want to be affiliated with our group,
even though this group is what allowed your first plan to succeed.”