Forced To Kill The Prince

by Hollie Hutchins

  Bernie was shaking his head. “Just because you raise the estrogen and dopamine levels in the blood it doesn’t mean you’re going to get horny. It just means your emotions are going to change a lot and quick…”

  Olaf was nodding, “One minute happy, one minute sad, zen you wanting to kiiiill somebody…!”

  Erickosn said, “So business as fuckin’ usual, then.”

  Alvarez slapped him across the back of the head, “Shut your mouth you male chauvinist, Limy son of a bitch!”

  “It’s fuckin started already!”

  They all started laughing, even Olaf who was a bit bemused. Finally Erickson said, “I’m going down there. I want to look at the box, and if it seems to be for real, I’ll destroy it.”

  Alvarez said, “It could be a trap.”

  “Bit elaborate…?”

  Olaf shook his head. “For Thorvall? Nay. Thorvall is mad like a person who wears a hat.”

  Erickson grinned. “Mad as a hatter.”

  “Yuh. I also know zis one, crazy like a box full of frogs. Zat is quite funny.”

  Erickson stood, rasping his palm over his stubble. “Why stop there? If we’re in the city, risking our fuckin’ necks, let’s do something worthwhile.”

  Clay said, “Cool. Like what?”

  Erickson turned and looked at Olaf. “All right, we let them know we have one of theirs, and we offer to trade him back for the one of ours they captured…”

  Clay said, “You keep saying that, man, but they ain’t captured none of us.”

  “Bli’me, Again? But they don’t fuckin’ know that, do they? How many women they got up there? Ten thousand, twenty thousand? How many of them do you reckon are called Betty Brown, Carol Smith or Sonia Alvarez?”

  Clay nodded. “A lot. So what’s your plan?”

  Olaf said, “I don’t want to go back…”

  Erickson said, “I’m thinking. OK, so we can get inside, me, Bernie, Alvarez and Clay. We make out like we are low-level, just carrying a message. We come to make an offer. We give you Olaf back if you give us…um…Jane Doe.”

  “I don’t want go back…please…”

  “OK, then what?” It was Alvarez.

  “Then, OK, what is the one thing they will most expect us to do?”

  “Plant bomb, but please, I do not want go back…”

  “A bomb! So that is the one thing we will not do. Olaf, what is the last thing they would expect us to do?”

  He blew through his lips, “Pfffffff…abducting Thorvall…”

  “Beautiful…”

  “I don’t want go back…”

  “You’re not going back, we’re fuckin’ keeping you! Now gather round boys and girls. Here is the plan. We get a message to Thorvall, via Miss Dross…”

  Eight

  It was dark and First Avenue was empty of traffic, since Governor Thorvall had had it sealed. In the courtyard of the United Nations, the strange black cube stood stark and ominous, reflecting the limpid light of the spots that illuminated the monolithic building. From the steps that led up to East 43rd Street, Erickson watched. Though truth be told, there was nothing to watch. The UN had been empty for a year, First Avenue was cut off and at this time of night there was no need for any pedestrians to be in the area. So he watched stillness, and listened to the odd barge mournfully moaning on the water.

  He slipped down the steps and dodged into the trees in the Ralph Bunche Park. He scanned up and down the avenue, scanned the sky. Still nothing. Using night vision goggles he scanned the guards’ hut and the courtyard beyond the iron rail. Nothing. He sprinted across the road, clambered over the rail and dropped onto the other side. He slipped into the shadows and waited, listening. Nothing.

  It was too damned easy. All his alarm bells were going, but hard as he tried, he couldn’t see a trap. He approached the cube. It was impossible to stay completely in shadow, but there didn’t seem to be a damned soul in the whole area to hide from. He stood in front of the great black block and ran his hands over it. It was perfectly smooth and featureless. He kept going round the side, running his fingers over every available inch. There was nothing. His mind was racing. What did it mean? He came to the back and then there was a soft hiss and a panel slid open. Light flooded out.

  He flattened himself against the side and waited.

  Again, nothing. He inched toward the opening. All his training, everything he had ever learned, every maxim that had ever been drummed into him was telling him to abort. He was walking into a trap. He was playing their game without knowing the rules.

  But their game, he told himself, was right now the only game. He had no choice but to play it. He peered round the opening. It was very white and very empty. Opposite there was a hatch, about five foot high and two foot across. It had a handle. A voice in his head was saying that maybe, just maybe, these arrogant bastards were so full of themselves that their story was actually true. Maybe this was what they said it was. Maybe they had actually bought his story about wanting to exchange hostages. And their security focus was on the exchange instead of on him.

  It was a judgment call. There was a 50/50 chance it was a trap and no way of knowing for sure. He stepped in. He had to. And the door slammed closed behind him.

  Thirty seconds later the lights went out, and in the darkness he smiled.

  In Central Park, Alvarez, Ben and Clay pulled onto the Sheep Meadow in one of the captured Jeeps with the laser cannon on it. The light from their headlamps picked out a shuttle in the middle of the meadow. They approached it at a steady twenty MPH and pulled up fifty yards away.

  The doors of the shuttle opened. Commander Vulcan and a dozen armed men in black combat uniform streamed out and took up positions training their weapons on the Jeep. The commander shaded his eyes with his hand.

  Alvarez swung down and raised her voice, “We are here to negotiate. I have a message from our commander.”

  Commander Vulcan said, “We have received the message via Ms Dee Ross.”

  “Before we go any further, my commander wants you to understand that we are of no value to the freedom fighters, and if you take us he will not negotiate to recover us. We are here only as messengers.”

  “That is understood. What makes you think that we are interested in recovering Olaf Olafsen?”

  Alvarez snorted and an insolent smile crawled up one side of her face. “How about the fact that you’re here?”

  “Who is the woman you want in exchange?”

  There had been a lot of debate as to what name to choose. In the end Erickson had decided on a statistical play. The 50th most common fist name for a girl, and the fifth most common surname, that gave them a very high probability of getting someone, without arousing suspicion. That name was…

  “Stella Williams.”

  Commander Vulcan went very still. After a moment he repeated, “Stella Williams?”

  “Yeah. We want to come up and see she’s alive and well. If she’s OK, then we arrange the swap.”

  The distant whine of a shuttle made Alvarez glance up. High above her, dimply illuminated by the glow of the city, she saw a small craft accelerating up towards the mother ship. Suspended beneath it was a large black object. In her heart she knew it was the cube. She felt a deep pit of anxiety and fear. Vulcan was watching her intently. She said, “You gonna stand there staring at me all night or are we going to go and see Stella?”

  He nodded towards the jeep. “We want the laser cannon back.”

  She grinned back at Clay who was sitting at the controls of the cannon. She said, “Yeah, sure, I know if you ask Clay nicely, he’ll let you take it home and show your mommy. Stop fucking with me, Commander. Let’s go.”

  She and Bernie walked across the meadow towards the shuttle. Clay watched them climb in and take off up toward the mother ship. He knew they were all going to die that night. He had no doubt in his mind at all. But he also knew two other things with absolute certainty. The first was that nobody ever got out of life alive, and if yo
u had to die, it was better to die on your feet than on your fucking knees.

  The other thing he knew with absolute certainty, was that he was often wrong about the things he was absolutely certain about. So he rolled a joint and relaxed, enjoying the night air in the park. Any son of a bitch tried to take his laser cannon from him tonight, was going to die.

  That was a certainty he was certain of.

  At that moment Stella had her feet on the windowsill and was looking down at the extraordinary night view of New York and New England spread out at her feet. To the south she believed she could see as far as DC. It was stunning. The door hissed open and Thorvall walked in. He stood watching her, pinching his lower lip, walking away and then walking back again, staring at her.

  “What’s eating you, Thorvall? You feeling horny again? I told you no already.”

  “No, Stella. It is not that. You told me your surname was Vegas.”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “It is an improbable name. Statistically rare.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not my real name. It’s my professional name. I’m an online astrologer. You can’t call yourself Smith or Jones or…”

  She shook her head and spread her hands. He said, “…Williams?”

  “Yeah, or Williams.”

  “But your real, birth name is Williams.”

  She turned to look at him, aware something was going down. She had no idea where her advantage lay - in saying it was or it wasn’t. So she said, “What if it is?”

  “Why did you not tell me you were highly placed in the Resistance?”

  She spluttered. “Me? Are you kidding?”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence, Stella. I am wounded that you have betrayed me. Do not compound it now by insulting my intelligence.”

  She got to her feet and gaped at him. “you are wounded? You are wounded? You are wounded? Really? Seriously? You-are-wounded?”

  “Stop saying that.”

  She started several sentences, touching her fingertips to her head, but was unable to finish any of them, “You…? Wha…? How…?”

  “They have sent a delegation to negotiate for your release. They offer one of our captured men in return for you. They are prepared to risk the lives of three fighters for you. You are highly valued. After your display earlier, I can see why.”

  She had that feeling like when your cat suddenly looks at you, narrows its eyes and says, “Nobody will believe you, you know…”

  He walked to the huge, panoramic window and looked down. “I thought we had connected. I thought our encounter earlier… They way you kissed me, I thought you had felt what I had felt...”

  “What, an orgasm? Sure, but that don’t mean jack, Thorvall. That’s biology…” She stopped because she saw him wince. She felt a strange twist inside her that was dangerously close to compassion. She said, “Oh-my-God…! You poor motherfucker, you got stung!”

  “Please, just because it was nothing more than sex to you is no reason to demean what I felt. It was the first time for me. I had never felt that feeling before… We don’t.”

  “Holly shit.”

  “Now…” He turned to face her. “Now you shall go, and I…” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I shall do. I have a sense of loss. I feel…” his bottom lip curled. “I feel very sad…”

  “Oh for crying out loud!”

  He made a face that was trying hard to explain something, with his eyebrows all the way up and his eyes wide open. His mouth kept working but the only sounds that came out were little squeaks as the tears rolled down his cheeks. “I… we… it was… I thought…”

  Stella threw her hands in the air. “Did all the fucking planets just start going backwards? What the fuck? Suddenly I am Mata Fucking Hari?”

  There was a tap at the door.

  Thorvall squeaked, “Come!” coughed and said again in a gruff voice, “Come!”

  The door opened and a guard saluted.

  “Governor, the shuttle with the delegation has arrived. Also the cube.”

  Thorvall looked at her with bitter, accusing eyes. “You had better come and see your friends. Or perhaps one of them was more than a friend. Or perhaps,” he said with a sour twist of his mouth, “Given your cavalier attitude towards the act of love, more than one of them was your lover!”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “These people have come to rescue me? This I got to see!”

  Nine

  Thorvall led her to a docking bay. There she saw a large, featureless, black metallic cube, about thirty foot across. Standing nearby were a Latino woman in camouflage pants and a string-sleeve vest, and a guy who fit the bill as a neurotic New York intellectual turned freedom fighter. Stella thought he probably had Uranus in his mid-heaven.

  To right and left there were two dozen armed guards with their weapons trained on the couple. Thorvall stood and considered the two fighters. Then, putting his hands behind his back he walked up to Alvarez and stared into her face. After that he did the same to Bernie.

  As he walked back toward Stella Alvarez said, “You done? Now can we talk turkey?”

  Stella decided she liked her. Thorvall spoke to the wall, in a big, booming voice.

  “You have a choice. You can either have Stella Williams, or you can have your commander. Which will it be?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You thought you would distract my attention by offering a trade, and meanwhile you would disarm or destroy the cube. What you didn’t realize was that the cube was a trap set for the very purpose of drawing you out where I could snatch you. Your leader is…” he pointed at the cube, “…in there. So, you came here offering to trade Olaf for Stella Williams. Now I give you a choice. You return Olaf, and you chose, Stella or your commander. Which one do you value most highly?”

  Bernie said, “You done talking? We haven’t got all night. You want Olaf back, we want Stella back. Now, where, when and how?”

  Thorvall frowned.

  “You are not interested in your commander?”

  Alvarez said, “We ain’t interested in bullshit, Thorvall. You’re all talk. You got the boss, show him. You ain’t gonna show him, let’s talk about Stella. Put your fockin’ money where your fockin’ mouth is, Pendejo!”

  Thorvall scowled and snapped, “Open the cube!”

  The panel slid back and the light snapped on. Stella stared in fascination. There was a man there, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was wearing dirty jeans and a sweatshirt. He was by no means the most beautiful man she had ever seen – that would have to be Thorvall – nor was he built like a god (again, that would be Thorvall). But as he stood from his sitting position, without using his hands, he looked lean, wiry and muscular, and he had ‘son of a bitch’ written over every inch of his battle hardened body.

  She knew, instantly, that this was the man who was going to give her joyful hell for the rest of her life.

  He stepped out of the cube, looked at the two dozen men, looked at Alvarez and Bernie without acknowledging them and finally looked at Stella and Thorvall. The latter spread his hands.

  “So, who is it to be, Stella Williams, or this grunt?”

  Erickson spoke without hesitation. “Stella. If you want Olaf back, they take Stella and you keep me.”

  Thorvall nodded. Then he starred at the floor and wagged his finger up and down in an affirmative sort of way. “You…you humans are subtle. We have underestimated you by a long stretch. You have inherited from us much more than we thought.” He began to pace. “I see what you have done. Was this your plan?” he glanced at Erickson, then frowned again and shook his head. “No, nooo…you don’t look intelligent enough. It was you. You planned this from the start, didn’t you, Stella? Infiltrate the mother-ship, seduce the Governor with your subtle, emotional sexual wiles…”

  Erickson looked at Stella with interest and smiled. She blushed and fluttered her eyelashes. Alvarez rolled her eyes.

  Thorvall continued, “…and then
use him to infiltrate a team into the ship.” There was a momentary catch in his throat as he said, “Well, you can be proud of yourself. It almost worked. But we are tougher than that. I will get over you, Stella Vegas…or should I say, Commander Stella Williams!” He turned to the guards. “Take them all away. Through them in a cell!”

  Bernie said, “What about Olaf?”

  Thorvall curled his lip. “All I want that schmuck for is to skin him and feed him to the rats. You think I give a damn about that piece of scoria? I just wanted to draw you into the ship. Take them away!”

  They were disarmed, marched to an elevator and taken down three levels. Here they were again marched down several passages with grilled metal floors until they came to a row of doors. The guard punched a code into a panel on the wall and one of the doors slid open. They were pushed in and the door closed with a hiss.

  There were no seats, so they sat on the floor. Erickson smiled at Stella. “You must be Stella Williams.”

  “Kinda. I’m Stella, but not Williams.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So…?”

  “He kinda got hooked on me.” She grinned. “I must be a damn good lay, because he raped me and it was so good he fell in love.” Alvarez snorted, then burst out laughing. Stella glanced at her. “I know, right? Anyway, you heard him, for some reason he thought it was mutual, and took me into his confidence. So I played him. It was the thing to do, right? He asked me for advice on how to catch you. The cube was my idea…”

  “So you set us up?”

  She pulled a face. “Not exactly. I needed to get you here… Anyway, when you offered to trade Olaf for a Stella Williams, he assumed Stella Williams was me. Who is she?”

  “Wait, back up. Why did he assume it was you?”

  “Probably because I crippled three of his guards before he raped me. I’m pretty good at Krav Maga and Jeet Kune Do.” She made a slightly regretful face and added, “Plus I have a bit of an attitude problem.”

  He said, “Good to know. And why did you need to get us here?” She glanced around the room and he caught her meaning. The cell was probably bugged. He glanced at Alvarez and Bernie. They got it too.