But he was still alive. “Alejandro, are there police out in the square? We have to get him to a hospital.”
He shook his head, his eyes sliding toward the open door. “You don’t want them.”
No, she didn’t, but she couldn’t leave Adler here to die, and she didn’t have time to take a cab all the way to the American embassy. “Um . . . try to find one of the restaurant owners instead.”
Alejandro frowned. “I’ll get one.”
He disappeared out the door before she could remind him to be cautious. He probably knew that better than she did. Marina laid one hand across Adler’s forehead. His forehead was clammy and cold, but his eyes fluttered open and he moaned. “We’re getting help,” she said. “You have to hold on.”
His lips moved, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“Say it again,” she begged, leaning closer.
“They took him,” Adler whispered.
CHAPTER 30
ILHAS DAS SEREIAS
Madam, let me say one last time that this is foolhardy.”
They were almost at the Quitos jetty. Oriana had watched the island approaching with trepidation in her stomach. She was gambling not only with her own life, but that of Duilio and Vas Neves as well. And that of her unborn child. Unfortunately, Duilio’s gift wasn’t offering an answer as to whether they’d walk out of the capital alive. Oriana turned to Captain Vas Neves, who stood on the ferry’s deck, her face grim. “I know. I’d say there’s a fifty percent chance this isn’t going to end well.”
Duilio shook his head. “That’s a fifty percent chance of it succeeding.”
“I can add,” she pointed out.
“Wouldn’t that be subtraction?”
She cast him a dry look. “I’m also moderately proficient with that.”
As the ferry nestled up to the pier and the sailors began setting the mooring lines, he smiled and signed acceptance without belief, vexing her. He always chose her most anxious moments to joke, resorting to nonsense when he wanted to ease her worry. Or perhaps he truly doubted her mathematical skills.
He wore a very formal pareu today, the black linen one that almost reached his feet. She’d chosen a brocaded pareu in loden green, worn along with a pale green vest—one of her favorites—hoping that the choice would bolster her nerves. She’d left off most of her jewelry, picking only one piece, a gold armband studded with aquamarines that had belonged to her mother. She hadn’t even worn her usual hair combs, and felt exposed without their hidden blades.
They waited as the other passengers debarked, following at the tail end of that queue. Fortunately, there were still carriages for hire waiting. As she moved to hail one, a closed carriage approached, bypassing the line. The driver gazed down at her. “Ambassador Paredes?”
She shielded her eyes with one hand to peer up at the driver. “Yes?”
“I’m to take you into the city.”
The door of the carriage opened and a woman stepped down. She wore the uniform of the navy, khaki pareu with a matching vest. An older woman and, judging by the rings on her webless index finger, an officer of high rank, the equal of Captain Vas Neves.
Oriana knew her aunt had spies on Amado. It was impressive, though, that news of their arrival on the ferry had preceded them. Maybe there was a telegraph cable laid on the ocean floor between the islands. It wouldn’t be that difficult.
The naval officer gestured for Oriana to climb up into the carriage, then waited politely as Duilio and Captain Vas Neves followed. Then she climbed up with them and sat next to the captain, facing backward. She eyed Vas Neves speculatively as the carriage began to roll. “I understood that human women were too frail to serve in their military.”
Vas Neves regarded her with one gray eyebrow raised. Not confrontational. It was more a look of respect from one soldier to another. “I am certainly not, nor are my guards.”
The naval officer gave her a grim smile. “Good to know.”
Oriana watched the streets pass outside the carriage’s windows. They were in a hurry, the horse moving along at a surprising clip. On the streets, life moved on at a normal pace, as if nothing was wrong. The outside world didn’t concern most people on this island.
“You have not asked, Ambassador,” the naval officer said, “why the navy is involved in what seems to be an affair of the ministry.”
Oriana looked to her. “The ministry’s judgment regarding the state of foreign affairs influences the navy’s actions, so it’s wise for the navy to assure themselves that the ministry is accurate.”
“Very good,” the officer said, as if to a schoolgirl. “Do the Portuguese have plans to invade our islands?”
“No,” Oriana said firmly. “We are in the process of molding two countries back into one. We have neither the time nor the inclination for war. What we need is trade.”
“So you must say,” the officer opined. “However, as we are about to lose our trade with Spain, the return of the Portuguese to our shores is fortunate.”
“Lose your trade with Spain?” Oriana said, hoping the officer would expand on that.
“Yes. Madam Davila currently sits in our prison and the remaining members of the Spanish mission are being questioned before being expelled.”
The arrest of an ambassador’s wife shocked her. It took a moment for Oriana to come up with an appropriate response. “On what charges are you holding her, may I ask?”
“Canaries are forbidden on these islands, Ambassador. Her mere presence is a violation of our treaty with Spain.”
Oriana glanced over at Duilio. His eyebrows rose, as if he shared her surprise. It was one thing for there to be a Canary spy among the embassy staff, but Madam Davila herself? “How did you know that she’s not human?”
The officer simply smiled.
Apparently Madam Norton had been correct about a Canary among the Spanish mission’s personnel after all. The navy wouldn’t have taken Madam Davila into custody without proof she was a Canary, not unless they were willing to risk the wrath of Spain. But Madam Norton had also noted that the government here didn’t give a damn about reasonable actions against a foreign embassy. Then again, once they had Madam Davila in custody, it would have been a simple matter to determine whether she had the ventral stripes on her thighs that sereia lacked.
“It turns out the Spanish have brought in a handful of Canary agents over the last few decades. Instead of trying to disrupt the government,” the officer continued, “the Canaries have been concentrating on infiltrating the press. Can you guess their intent?”
Oriana sat very still, hands on her lap. “To spread the notion that Portugal is on the verge of invading?”
“Very good,” the officer said with a nasty smile. “An odd tactic, but surprisingly effective. We’ve arrested several of the spies, as Madam Davila has proven talkative.”
Oriana swallowed, hoping they weren’t saying that about her in a couple of days.
They’d reached the section of the city that housed many government buildings, neat stacks of no more than two stories with little embellishment on the gray walls, perhaps a conscious attempt not to look like the Portuguese architecture common on Amado. The headquarters of the Ministry of Intelligence had a triangular pediment on each end, similar to Greek temples Oriana had seen in photographs. Most of the activities of the ministry took place far from here, but the highest officers could be found within.
The naval officer walked them up the steps and inside, her expression impassive, leaving Oriana uncertain whether she would be heard out, or whether she was walking to her execution. A heavyset woman with hard eyes and gray hair greeted them once they’d walked up the stairs into the building.
“They’re here to meet with Minister Paredes,” the officer informed the secretary, even though they’d never said that.
A prickle went down Oriana’s s
pine. Duilio hadn’t reacted, but she was sure he’d caught that. Her aunt was Subminister Paredes . . . or had been the last time Oriana spoke with her.
“You’ll need to stay here with me,” the officer said to Vas Neves.
They’d expected that. The secretary walked next to Oriana and Duilio, leading them down a gray stone hallway. A moment later they were ushered into a large and ornate office where her aunt Jovita presided over a handful of minor functionaries, bidding them off on small tasks, most to seek out paperwork for her. Their escort bade them remain at the entryway to the large office, so they both waited under a large tapestry that probably depicted a scene of their people’s glorious past. Unfortunately, neither of them could see it from where they stood.
After her aunt had dispatched the last of her lackeys, most of whom spared them only the quickest glance on the way out of the office, Jovita turned annoyed eyes on them. “I don’t have time for you today,” she snapped.
No, whatever was going on here, it didn’t look leisurely. “We have information,” Oriana began, “that we felt necessary to bring to your attention.”
“I don’t need information,” Jovita said bluntly. “I need evidence. Close the door.”
Oriana did as bidden.
“Now, what do you want of me?”
“I have more information than I did last time we spoke, Subminister.”
“Acting Minister, I’m afraid,” Jovita said. “My predecessor is currently under arrest, forcing me into a position I don’t have time for.”
“Minister Raposo is under arrest? Does that have something to do with the arrest of Madam Davila?”
Her aunt leaned back against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. “It will come out eventually, so yes.”
“If I may ask, what evidence did you have to arrest Madam Davila?”
“Worried for yourself, are you?” Jovita asked.
Oriana drew a calming breath. “It’s a reasonable concern.”
Jovita snorted. “A photograph fell into our hands yesterday morning of the woman stepping out of her bath. Adequate proof that the Spanish mission was harboring a Canary spy.”
Yes, that would be seen as grounds to search the embassy and detain its personnel. “What was your source?”
“One of my people working in the American embassy. The photograph had just been developed, and fell rather conveniently into her hands.”
The implication being that the Americans had fed the information to the ministry. “I see.”
“Yes, there’s little love lost between Norton and Davila. Davila had gone that morning to visit you on Amado, so we waited until she returned. We had to move quickly, so as to capture her before she left again. After her arrest, Madam Davila implicated Minister Raposo, who was also imprisoned last night pending investigation. We didn’t have evidence yet, but those involved seem more than willing to turn on each other. At this point, my office is having trouble keeping up with the numerous confessions. We would, however, like more substantial evidence before proceeding with trials, especially evidence that tells us something about where this conspiracy started.”
“You have someone seeking that evidence, don’t you? The agent who’s been collecting information about the executions for the last six months, Lorena Evangelista.”
Jovita cast an exasperated look her direction. “Yes, I hired her not long after your supposed execution. She’s from Capraria and has no ties to anyone in the ministry. I thought it would help to have an outside perspective. Unfortunately, all she’s been able to collect is hearsay.”
Capraria was one of the outer islands, one that sided more with Amado than Quitos in political matters. “Well, I have one piece of evidence for you that may help,” Oriana said. “But first I would like you to answer a few questions for me.”
“I’ll consider it,” her aunt said slowly.
That was as good as she was going to get. Oriana took a deep breath. “When my mother died, did you see her body?”
Her aunt shot her a disturbed glance. “This is about Lygia?”
“Did you—not Valeria or Vitoria—identify my mother’s body after she died?”
Her aunt’s strong jaw clenched. “As head of the Paredes line, I did.”
“And her body was recognizable?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have signed the paperwork otherwise.”
Oriana felt some of the tightness slip from her shoulders. One of her worst fears had been that her mother had ended up where Leandra Rocha had. “What about Marina’s body? Did you also see hers?”
Jovita’s jaw clenched again. “No. I’m aware it wasn’t her body you were shown. I didn’t learn that until over a year later. You’d already been assigned to Northern Portugal by then.”
“Is it customary for members of the ministry to produce disfigured bodies whenever they wish to deceive grieving family members?”
“Not to my knowledge,” her aunt said. “But one thing I’ve learned as subminister is that there are factions within any group.”
Oriana wished she had the ability to weigh the truth in her aunt’s words, like a Truthsayer. “Why did you not think I would make a good spy?”
“A spy has to see her mission as all important. You, on the other hand, question the validity of everything, like your mother. You were cooperative enough, I heard, at first, but I knew that once you got your land legs you would start debating every order.”
Oriana licked her lips. She had been obedient at first. Isabel’s death had been the breaking point for her, when the ministry’s orders had ceased to make sense. That was when she’d decided to leave the ministry. And when she’d become expendable. “A woman known as either Maria Melo or Iria Serpa showed up in the Golden City. Do you know either of those names?”
Her aunt took a deep breath. “I won’t answer that question.”
“When I met her in the city,” Oriana said, “she said something odd to me. She said that I had Mother’s look about me, and that Mother didn’t know how to play the game either. I will never forget those words.”
Her aunt sat back, folding her hands over her stomach. “You think she was responsible for Lygia’s death?”
“Yes, directly or by some other agent’s hand. I was present at this woman’s death. Despite being an agent of the ministry, she had the markings of a Canary. Prince Raimundo’s men took photographs for me.” Duilio handed Oriana his notebook, and she took out one of the precious photographs from that night, showing a woman’s body partially wrapped in a bloodstained sheet, her skirts drawn up high enough for the photographer to capture the image of her striped thighs—the skipjack markings that indicated Canary bloodlines, the same markings that had given away Madam Davila’s identity. “She leapt from the roof at the palace, so her back was mangled, but the doctor who examined the body said there were scars that could have come from the removal of a dorsal fin.”
Her aunt’s lips pressed in a thin line, but she said nothing.
“When she died, this Iria left behind documents indicating that the assassination of Prince Fabricio was planned by the government here on the islands, by the Ministry of Intelligence.”
“If that’s the case,” her aunt said, spine stiffening, “why has Northern Portugal not demanded retribution?”
“Because Prince Raimundo believed me when I said she didn’t represent our people.”
Now her aunt looked truly concerned. “And if you hadn’t been there?”
“If she’d succeeded in getting rid of me beforehand? The islands might now be at war. With Northern Portugal at a minimum, and possibly Southern Portugal. The English would be bound by their ancient treaty with Portugal, and I think the Americans want the goodwill of the Portuguese more than they want trade with these islands. Tell me, to whom would the government have turned for support?”
“The Spanish, of course.”
“If this is all true,” Jovita said, “what makes you think I’m not involved?”
That had been the dangerous question all along. Duilio signaled to Oriana that his gift considered the situation safe, though. “I’m very aware this may be a mistake,” Oriana said to her aunt, “but you’ve always been honest with me, even if you didn’t like me.”
“You are family.” Jovita sighed gustily, her face weary. “Madam Davila already admitted to us that the women supposedly executed are being transported to Spain, one every six months.”
Oriana felt hollow inside, but it wasn’t too much of a surprise. “Why was anyone being given to the Spanish? Has Madam Davila admitted that yet?”
“A trade,” Jovita snapped. “Apparently the Canaries’ numbers are low and most of them are involved in controlling certain individuals in the Spanish government. They’ve been using these stolen women to serve on Spanish ships in their stead, to enforce their will in their prison, and, I’m afraid, to bear the next generation who will one day replace them.”
Oriana felt ill. That could have been her fate if Duilio and Joaquim had not rescued her. “And if the Spanish succeeded in taking over the islands?”
“The conspirators here represent all the major lines in the ministry. In return for their collaboration, they would have a place in government when the Spanish came to take over. They sold their own daughters into slavery for a promise of power. No woman should ever betray her family.”
The Shores of Spain Page 26
