Blue Knight

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  * * * * *

  The Royal White Sands Hotel had once held a reputation for some of the finest dining in North America. Kings and queens had stayed there. Hemingway had a favorite corner suite and a favorite table in the bar. Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier had often slipped into the harbor below on a sloop and hurried up the wide, white stone steps in sunglasses and large hats and spent a long weekend tucked away in the honeymoon suite.

  But that was before revolution had torn Vistaria apart. Before a twenty-foot-high, chain-link fence with barbed wire coils atop had been installed right around the White Sands, tearing up the beautiful grounds, the generous parking area and the old banyan trees that had stood there for over a hundred years. Forty-foot high, cast-iron poles had replaced the trees and the elegance. Now the grounds surrounding the White Sands were awash in floodlights all night and guards carrying submachine guns patrolled the fenced area day and night.

  The quality of the catering at the Royal White Sands Hotel had diminished somewhat of late.

  Olivia looked at the hash browns and scrambled eggs in the tray warmers and sighed. Breakfast was always this same Westernized disaster, with nothing fresh on offer. The coffee defied description. The celebrated chefs and talented kitchen staff had escaped off-island at the first sign of revolution. Now the hotel was using the most basic ingredients and she thought she had more cooking experience than whoever was turning out this mess day after day. But nobody dared say anything to the staff, not while there were half a dozen unshaved, sullen-looking insurrectos standing around the dining room with their submachine guns hanging from their shoulders, or held in their hands, while they watched their captured pets eat.

  Olivia picked up two slices of toast and two packets of grape jelly just as Jenny sidled up next to her. Ernesto was right behind Jenny. Jenny was in her mid-twenties, a pretty, pale red-haired girl with washed-out blue eyes. She looked nervous and tired as she picked up her plate.

  “I heard they took someone for questioning last night,” Jenny murmured, glancing up at Olivia as she piled eggs on her plate.

  “Where did you hear that?” Olivia asked, surprised. How on earth had Jenny heard it so quickly?

  “I heard noises last night,” Jenny said. “So I asked Daniel this morning.”

  Olivia controlled her reaction to the man’s name. Daniel had gone by the time she woke this morning and one of her bathroom towels had been missing. It seemed he agreed with her assessment of him and wanted nothing more to do with her. Although she was relieved she was right about him, she was at the same time disappointed to have been proved correct yet again.

  She shook off the mood before it got a grip on her. “You’re on the third floor, northwest wing, aren’t you?” she asked Jenny.

  “I think I’m next to you,” Jenny said. “But it wasn’t you, as they’ve questioned you already.”

  “I think it was Theresa, the woman on the other side of me,” Olivia said in an undertone, picking up a cup for coffee, for the line was drawing close to the armed guard near the coffee station now.

  Ernesto’s eyes got bigger. “They really did take someone in?” he asked. His English was heavily accented. He looked around wildly. “Have you seen her yet? Did she tell them anything? What did she say? Did she give anyone away?”

  “Ernesto, calm down!” Olivia snapped, in an undertone. “Wait,” she added when he drew breath to continue speaking. She nodded her head toward the guard behind the coffee urn. Ernesto grew pale and swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down his throat. He fumbled with the spout on the coffee urn, while Olivia poured herself spiced coffee from the smaller ceramic pot on the side. She had grown to like the Vistarian staple. It was usually much better quality than the straight coffee.

  They tried to pick a table as far away from an armed guard as possible, but it was logistically impossible. Instead, they settled with their backs to the nearest guard. Olivia switched to French. “Let me know if you misunderstand anything, Jenny, yes?”

  Jenny nodded. Her French was not strong.

  Ernesto prodded at his eggs. “I don’t see her anywhere here,” he muttered.

  “If they had her up all night for questioning, she’s probably sleeping,” Olivia said reasonably. “You must get control of yourself, Ernesto. We are eating breakfast and going about our day as we have been every day for the last four weeks. Nothing has changed. That alone must tell you Theresa gave nothing away. If she had told Ibarra anything, he would be here by now, gloating over us.”

  Ernesto nodded, but his skin was a peculiar gray-white color and Olivia worried about him. She remembered that he was one of the senior diplomats with the United Nations, selected to inspect Vistaria after the revolution to ensure the democratic process was being carried out with due respect to human rights before full diplomatic status was restored to the nation. He was from Spain, she thought, or perhaps from Portugal. He’d been chosen because of his native Spanish-speaking skills, perhaps. He was a tall man with a large nose, and black hair cut severely short and graying at the temples.

  It wasn’t his physical health that worried her, but his mental stability. The last four weeks had impacted badly upon him. Although they had little opportunity to exchange personal details, from the small hints Ernesto had let slip, Olivia sensed he had led a sheltered, dream-filled life. This situation at the White Sands was taxing him in ways he’d never experienced and he wasn’t coping well.

  He gulped at his coffee. “You are right. You are right,” he agreed in flawless, accented French. “But to just sit here and let them pick us off, one by one….”

  Olivia patted his hand. “Eat something, Ernesto. Just coffee alone will not help you.”

  Jenny blew out her breath. “I do not know how you do it,” she said. “You are so calm!”

  Olivia sipped her coffee. “Do what?” she asked.

  Jenny frowned for a minute, then dropped back into English, her voice low. “Look at you! You’re almost smiling as you sit there while Ibarra and his soldiers keep prodding us, probing us, looking for any crack, any hint about our real identities. You know what they’re looking for—” Her hand spread on the tablecloth.

  “Certainly,” Olivia said calmly, in clear, soft French so that Jenny would be able to follow it. “They want the real identity of just one person, preferably American, so they can use that person as a hostage and force the United States to support the insurrectos against the loyalist army sitting in Mexico.”

  Ernesto’s mouth dropped open. “They would not dare!”

  “Why not?” Olivia asked reasonably. “They have dared this much.” She rolled her eyes around the room, taking in the armed guards, without moving her head. “Why this, if not to use us as leverage?”

  Jenny nodded. “Yes, you see it, too,” she agreed, in very quiet English. “All it will take is just one of us to crack, to give away just one of the others.”

  “So we must all play the game, then and not crack, no?” Olivia told her.

  Jenny gave a shuddering little laugh, her eyes filling with tears. “How?” she asked, her voice strained. “They’ve got machine guns.”

  “And we have brains,” Olivia said, her voice flat. She switched to English and dropped her voice, so that Jenny would have no trouble understanding her. “If you look past the guns, you’ll notice that these soldiers are not the smartest bunch in the world.”

  Ernesto choked into his coffee.

  “Look past the guns?” Jenny’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Olivia, that’s…that’s….”

  “What other languages do you speak?” Olivia asked her. She looked at Ernesto. “What about you?”

  He frowned. “French, Spanish, English, some German, Portuguese, Italian—”

  “Good,” she said firmly. “Today, I want you to spend the day speaking anything other than Spanish or English.” She looked at Jenny. “You, too.”

  Jenny’s mouth fell open. “Why?”

 
“Because you can.”

  Ernesto wrinkled his nose. “I do not understand.”

  “The soldiers guarding us have probably been picked because they speak enough English to understand what we’re saying. They’re not just standing around watching us. They’re eavesdropping as well. So we don’t speak English or Spanish. We speak anything but those two languages and we switch to suit whoever we’re speaking with. There’s got to be a dozen different nationalities in this hotel and between us, we speak maybe two dozen common languages. Half of us are trained diplomats and soak up languages as part of our profession. Ibarra can’t possibly keep up with us.” She smiled. “Imagine how frustrated he’ll be when he realizes his electronic bugs and soldiers are useless.”

  Jenny began to smile.

  Ernesto, after a moment broke into an enormous great grin. “I will tell the others,” he said in French.

  “Oh and there’s something I should tell you about the listening bug in your rooms,” Olivia added. She explained to them the process for disabling the bug under their beds and for dipping it in water overnight.

  Ernesto frowned. “But if it is just me in my room, there is no need.”

  “Do it anyway, Ernesto,” Olivia told him. “You will feel such a sense of freedom and privacy once you do. Trust me.”

  He stood up and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I will,” he told her. He hurried away, his shoulders square and his head up.

  “That’s better,” Olivia murmured, watching him go.

  “He was badly frightened by last night,” Jenny observed, speaking in slow French.

  “Whenever one of us is questioned, it always unsettles everyone.”

  Jenny cocked her head to one side. “I already knew about disabling the listening device under my bed, you know.”

  Daniel. Olivia tried to smile. “If I had thought about it, I might have assumed you would.”

  “I’m surprised you do, too,” Jenny said gently.

  Olivia took a breath. “I came by the knowledge quite by accident,” she assured the girl.

  Jenny smiled thinly. “I’m not in a position where I should care how you found out,” she said carefully. “Especially as I was under the impression Daniel was currently occupied with Theresa.” She grimaced. “I mention it only because since we sat down to eat, he has been watching this table like a hawk.”

  Olivia nearly jumped. Nearly. She controlled her reaction. “Daniel is the Englishman, isn’t he? With the dark blond hair?”

  Jenny considered Olivia for a moment. “Yes, that’s right,” she said, this time in passable German. She got to her feet. “This could be fun,” she added in Italian. She brushed her red hair over her shoulder, waved at someone across the room, smiled and walked away. It was the first genuine smile Olivia had seen from the girl all morning.

  Olivia picked up her half-cup of coffee and swiveled in her seat to survey the dining room. The hotel was a large one, capable of catering to hundreds of people. There were perhaps sixty hostages—the word was coming much easier to her mind now—and they tended to huddle in one corner of the dining room, even though the hotel staff faithfully set up most of the dining tables every meal. The beautiful white stonework soared in overhead arches and palm trees lined the walls. The armed guards were ugly punctuation marks between the trees. The white cloth-covered tables dotted the room and smaller arches at either end marked off the dining room from the rest of the hotel’s public areas. There were more armed guards hovering between the arches, to prevent the hostages from wandering. Once breakfast was over, they would be escorted to the lounge areas to spend their time until lunch.

  Olivia watched Jenny and Ernesto talking to the others. Both were smiling and laughing, to the obvious bewilderment of the guests they were talking to. But slowly, the message took hold and the same smile spread to the others.

  No one glanced at the guards. No one gave any overt sign of celebration. But Olivia could see the smile spreading. She had a hard time hiding her own as she watched.

  Defiance. Oh, she was going to like that word.

  Then she saw Daniel looking at her. The warmth in her chilled instantly, for his gaze was cold and hard.

  Chapter Three

  Calli almost resented the intruding knock. She moaned against Nick’s ear and his lips pressed against her throat. “Serves us right for trying to steal private time during business hours,” he said as he let her go. His eyes were sleepy with arousal.

  He turned his head to toward the balcony door. “Minnie?”

  Minnie grimaced. “Sorry, but I really need to talk to you both.” She stepped onto the balcony. “If it’s any consolation, Duardo and I find privacy as hard to come by as you two.”

  Calli grinned. “It doesn’t help to know you share the misery but thanks for trying.”

  Nick kissed her temple and she let her hand rest on his chest, a private gesture she could not indulge in anywhere else in the house, where their formal roles had to be first priority in their lives. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm.

  Minnie waved to her right. “You’ll have to pretend that Duardo is standing next to me, but he’s off working so I’m speaking for both of us, okay?”

  Calli actually felt Nick’s surprise in the quick lift of his chest. “Should your father be here, Minnie?”

  She grinned. “I’m a big girl. Besides, I’ve already told him. He’s off getting drunk somewhere, I think.”

  Calli caught her breath. “Minnie….”

  “I’m pregnant,” Minnie said simply. “And I want to arrange a wedding in two days.”

  Nick straightened from his lean against the balcony. “Are you telling me this as President, or as your cousin, Minnie?”

  “Both. I’m going to need Calli to help me pull off the wedding, so I need you as President for that. But it’s a family thing, so I’m telling you as my cousin-in-law.”

  “God, men,” Calli breathed, as her chest unlocked. She pushed past Nick and hugged Minnie. “A baby,” she whispered. “Oh, Minnie, I don’t know if I’m terrified for you, or so happy I could cry.”

  Minnie’s arms came around her hard. “Be both,” Minnie said. “I know I am.”

  Nick cleared his throat.

  Calli let Minnie go and faced him. “I’ll help Minnie as much as I can, but you won’t notice the difference.”

  Nick shook his head. “Last thing on my mind,” he assured her. “I was wondering if I could have a hug as it appears we’re going to be welded even more into family now.” He looked at Minnie.

  Minnie’s eyes widened. Nick wasn’t the demonstrative sort, so this was unusual. She stepped forward hesitantly. “Sure,” she said. Compared to Nick, she was a good foot shorter and tiny. He bent down and simply picked her up and hugged her. Calli saw his eyes close as he held her and wondered what was going through his mind.

  Gently, he put her down again and picked up her hand. “Minnie…”

  Minnie bit her lip. “Nick, you’re scaring Calli.”

  He glanced at her apologetically. “This needs to be said, mi amor.” He looked at Minnie once more. “I was wrong, Minnie, all those weeks ago, when you were insisting Duardo was alive. I was wrong, you were right and I keep thinking of the hell we put you through because we wouldn’t listen. I dismissed you as a woman in mourning and paid no more attention to what you said and I should have. My error cost us dearly and we’re still paying for it.”

  “Nick, you weren’t the only one who didn’t listen,” Calli told him softly.

  “But I’m the one everyone else follows. ‘The buck stops here’, right?” He grimaced. “I was part of Duardo’s debriefing, so I know in detail what happened when you went back to Vistaria.”

  Minnie brought her hands up to cover her mouth. “Did you have to let me know you know all that?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said flatly. “It’s taken me this long to find a way to tell you how much I admire you. I still can�
��t find the words. I don’t think they exist. All I can tell you is that I will never underestimate you again. Nor will I take you for granted.”

  Calli smiled. She could hear the steel of a lifetime promise in Nick’s voice. El leopardo had spoken.

  Minnie let her hands drop. Her face was pink. “I just came here to ask if it was okay to steal Calli for a day or two.”

  Calli cleared her throat. “Actually, now that Nick is President pro tem, I think you have to ask for formal permission to marry one of his officers, too.”

  Minnie’s mouth opened. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding! That’s archaic!”

  Calli laughed. “It’s actually supposed to be the other way around. The officer is supposed to ask for permission, but you said you were speaking for Duardo. It is a very old law and it’s really just a formality for the senior officers. But it’s still in effect.”

  Minnie rose to her full height of five feet and one inch. “I’m not asking anyone’s permission,” she said. “Duardo can do the damn asking.”

  Calli saw laughter ripple through Nick’s shoulders. “Very well then,” he said, his voice even. “You may borrow Calli to arrange your wedding, but Calli will borrow you for whatever responsibilities she feels appropriate for you to handle in return. I warn you, Minerva, your honeymoon will be screamingly short and probably a working one.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” Minnie said, her shoulders slumping.

  Nick smiled. “Have Colonel Peña arrange a time with my new Chief of Staff to report formally to me as soon as possible.” He looked at his watch. “Jesus Marie, Flores is waiting for me.” He kissed Calli quickly and squeezed Minnie’s shoulder as he walked past her and was gone.

  Calli reached for her laptop, sitting on the table in the back corner of the balcony. “I’ve got Nick’s calendar right here. Let’s set up a time for Duardo right now.”