by Greg Gotti
Martinez shook his head in sadness. He sat quietly for a few moments before reaching for the button that buzzed the guards.
“That’s enough for today, John. I will arrange for you to receive some reading materials you will find interesting. I think I’ve given you a lot to think about, and I have to leave this facility tomorrow morning. I am not sure when I will be back. Read the things I have sent to your quarters, and we will talk when I return.”
Martinez buzzed the door, and the guards immediately entered. They unstrapped John and even gave him a smile as they led him from the room. John glanced back at Martinez on his way out the door and thought he saw the slightest of nods as he walked into the hall. His mind was racing with everything he’d been told, and he wondered what materials he would be given to read. He was sure Martinez had a reason for everything he did. The man was nothing if not brilliant. He wasn’t sure what role he was to play in all this, but he knew he had little choice but to wait. Martinez would let him know when he was ready to do so. John entered his quarters and heard the door close behind him. He went to the couch and lied down. Folding his hands beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling, he lost himself in his thoughts. He eventually drifted off to sleep; dreaming of a place where people of all colors lived peacefully together under one flag.
Chapter Eleven
The winter came and went, and the first month of spring passed without even a hint of the full-scale invasion everyone was expecting from the Soona. It was late in the evening, and Rodriguez stood on a high ridge overlooking the river and its surroundings. He was feeling perplexed. It was now one year to the day from when John Wallace had been killed while leading a covert mission in Rista territory. The Soona had moved to a position farther to the east but remained staged at the border between their two nations. Invasion had been considered to be imminent for a year now, but the Soona had done little more than conduct scouting operations and small-scale attacks along the border during that time. It all made no sense to Rodriguez. It was almost like the Soona wanted him to know they could attack at any time but didn’t really want to do so. He had spent much of the last year designing a defense against invasion in this area and felt good about his troops’ readiness. The southern wall had seen no signs of renewed hostility with the Confederation, and the Texans had requested and received a cease-fire with them in the east. He was not surprised to see the fighting come to an almost total stop with an election coming at the end of the year. It was always in the best interests of the existing administration to be able to show a decrease or even a total cessation of fighting when election time came around. It gave the people a sense that the Federation was winning the war and increased support for the current leaders.
The problem the administration had in using such a strategy this time around was his entering the race as a presidential candidate. Any military success only made him look better to the voters, so it put the leaders in Hidalgo between a rock and a hard place. Rodriguez was an intelligent, even brilliant man. He had expected them to order him to stay in the north while building up military wins in the east against Texas, but last year’s coup had led to a radical change in the Texans’ approach. They withdrew their forces from all lands they’d taken south of the Rio Grande and insisted on holding peace talks to end the war. The Federation had thus far resisted such overtures, but the people were overwhelmingly in support of peace with Texas. Nobody, including Rodriguez, wanted anything to do with invading the Confederation. That was a suicidal proposition; considering how entrenched both sides were. No, the only realistic place where the military could be used to score political points was against the Soona, and Rodriguez was ready for anything the Soona tried to throw at him. He surveyed the land before him and wondered if the Soona were really interested in attacking at all. It seemed as though their will to fight had died with Wallace, and that was fine with him. This war had consumed his entire life, and it had now cost him his daughter. He was determined to end this war one way or another. When he became President, he would seek a peace treaty with the Soona. If they would not negotiate for peace, he would give them war on a scale they’d never seen. He was leading by a huge margin in all the polls. He even led the skewed ones conducted by the biased media sources. He was not running out of ambition or lust for power. His only agenda was to end this war once and for all. He bowed his head as he said a prayer before turning and walking away as the sun sank slowly in the western sky.
Master Sergeant Daniel Heredia was in a foul mood as he entered the main lobby of Facility 4. He had brought John Wallace here almost a year ago, and the man still hadn’t given them any useful information. He was certain he would have broken Wallace long ago if he been allowed unrestricted access to the man. Pain had a way of breaking anyone if it was severe and long enough in duration. He was willing, but Colonel Martinez had taken that option off the table. The one and only time he had struck Wallace had resulted in Martinez chewing him out for an hour and threatening to demote him to private. Heredia had thought they were bringing Wallace here to break him; instead, it seemed more like they were hiding him. He had risen to his rank by virtue of his success in interrogating prisoners, and he enjoyed his work very much. Not being given access to Wallace was maddening for him. Here was the greatest enemy the Ristas had encountered in decades, and he no doubt possessed immense amounts of valuable information. He was trying to understand what Martinez’s game was. He had been fighting a feeling of suspicion for the last few months. If it had been anyone other than Colonel Martinez himself, he would have already gone out of his chain of command and requested someone higher in rank to check into the situation. He dare not do so with Martinez. Making an enemy of him would be tantamount to career suicide. He waited with Perez outside Room 52 as Martinez enjoyed yet another delicious meal with his favorite Soona.
The door buzzed, jarring Heredia from his thoughts, and he reached out to open the door when it suddenly flew open to reveal an enraged Martinez.
“Sergeant Heredia, take this piece of human garbage down to the black level and throw him in his hole!” Martinez shouted as he pointed into the room. Wallace was face-down on the floor and struggling to get to his knees. His face was covered in blood. Heredia suddenly noticed blood running from a gash above Martinez’s left eye.
“What happened, Colonel?” he asked as he and Perez cuffed Wallace’s wrists behind his back and pulled him to his feet.
“He attacked me! He somehow managed to cut through his straps and surprise me as we were talking over coffee!” He opened his fist and produced a ceramic shard, which he held in front of their faces. “Does someone want to tell me how the most elite unit in the entire Federation manages to let a prisoner smuggle this into an interrogation room?!?!”
Heredia was speechless. They had searched Wallace as they always did before taking him to Room 52, but he knew the process had become routine. They had gone through the motions of a search without being as attentive as they were with anyone else. He felt fear seep into him as Martinez roared in anger.
“Do you think you can manage to get him secured in the black level without getting yourselves killed?” Martinez’s face was red with anger.
“Sir, yes, sir!” Heredia and Perez shouted in unison as they each took firm hold of Wallace.
“Good, make sure you do so. Don’t harm a hair on his head; understand me? I want him at full strength for what I have planned for him. I don’t want him having any excuses when we break him and parade him through the streets of Hidalgo! Take him away!”
Heredia and Perez yanked Wallace into the hall and led him to the elevator. His red hair was caked with blood, and he was still only half-conscious as they took him to the lower level and led him to the same dimly lit cell as before. Heredia wanted to beat him half to death right there, but it seemed he was already more than halfway there. Martinez had made it clear they were not to harm him, so he reluctantly just locked the door after they laid him on the floor. Perez walked off, and Heredia stoo
d staring at the steel door with a twisted sort of smile. Wallace had screwed up royally in attacking the only person standing between him and Heredia’s special brand of interrogation. He envisioned all the things he would do to Wallace and felt a dark pleasure deep inside of him.
Now, this is more like it, he thought. He turned from the door and walked away whistling.
Martinez returned to his office and went into his private bathroom to clean up. The intelligence business was a complicated one to say the least, and things were more complicated right now than he’d ever seen during his time in the RID. There were so many balls in the air, and it took immense concentration and focus to prevent dropping one and having them all come crashing down. He turned on the hot water and mixed in the cold until it was the right temperature. He splashed the warm water on his face, wet a plush washcloth and began cleaning the dried blood from his face. Wallace had opened quite a gash over his eye. The Soona captain had to be dragged from Room 52 after he had finished with him, but that gave Martinez no pleasure as he examined the gash and tried to decide if he needed stitches. He had incurred many wounds from the Soona over the years, so one more was just another scar with a story behind it. He heard the phone on his desk ring, and he frowned as he dried his hands and went to answer it.
“Martinez,” he spoke into the phone.
“Colonel, I have High General Rodriguez on the phone for you,” said the voice on the other end. He recognized it as his agent at Northern Command who discreetly rerouted all calls for him to Facility 4. Nobody in the regular army knew the place even existed, and very few in the RID knew about it.
“Very well, put him through.” He was surprised to hear from Rodriguez. He knew the man had little use for him after the events of the previous year.
There was a pause of a few seconds, and then he heard the line change.
“Hello, High General, this is Colonel Martinez,” he said in his most respectful voice.
“Martinez, are you currently running any covert operations along our northern front?”
“Sir, we are always conducting operations to gather intelligence for you and your staff. Many of these happen on both sides of the northern front, as you know. Is there a specific operation you wanted to ask about?”
“My own sources are picking up a lot of chatter about some sort of big event slated to happen within the next few days. We aren’t sure if it’s one of ours or one of theirs. We keep hearing the name ‘Butterfly’ being mentioned. Does that mean anything to you?”
Martinez felt a chill pass through him.
“No sir, nothing,” he replied. “I will direct my agents to check into it immediately.”
“Put everything you have available on it, Martinez. Something big is going down. This might finally be the invasion we have been expecting. I want you to investigate and be ready to brief me when I arrive.”
Martinez blinked in surprise.
“You’re coming here, sir? When can I expect you?”
“I am finishing up with some things here before I go to Northern Command. It will be before the end of the week. I will be placing a call to your director and asking him to join us as well. This is a crucial time for the Federation, and we need to adjust our approach to deal with the dangers at hand.”
“I understand, sir. I will have a briefing prepared before the end of the week. It will be good to see you, sir.”
“See that you do, Martinez. I expect you to be able to answer any questions I have when I arrive.”
The line went dead. Martinez stood dumbfounded; holding the phone to his ear for a few moments before placing it back in its cradle. If Rodriguez knew about Butterfly, it was only a matter of time before he discovered what it was. He shook his head and clenched his teeth in frustration. He had warned his associates to include no one they were not absolutely certain they could trust! Now, Rodriguez wanted a meeting with him and even worse; he wanted the Director of the RID to join them. This was the only man in the RID who outranked Martinez and including him in the meeting could mean only one thing… Rodriguez wanted him replaced. This would already be a huge concern for him, but the fact that Rodriguez was almost certain to become the next President of the Federation meant everyone would want to be in his good graces. They’d throw him overboard without hesitation if it meant pleasing the High General. He went back to the mirror and examined his wound again. If Rodriguez was hearing the term Butterfly, he almost surely didn’t know anything about it yet. If he did, he wouldn’t have asked him about it over the phone. He’d have shown up at Northern Command expecting to confront him. He figured it was a matter of an unsecure communication that had been intercepted by Rodriguez’s people. Still, all of this meant they no longer had the luxury of waiting any longer. If this was going to happen, it had to happen as soon as the pieces could be positioned in their appointed places. He leaned in close and decided he was going to have to get stitches after all. But first, he needed to make a phone call of his own. He went to his desk and sat down. He couldn’t believe it had all come to this. Nothing would ever be the same again. He sighed as he picked up the receiver and began punching in numbers.
Chapter Twelve
Heredia couldn’t sleep. He had gone to bed at 2300 hours as usual and woke up at 0130 hours. He was wide awake, and no amount of tossing and turning was going to allow him to get back to sleep. He grunted in frustration as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. This happened to him from time to time when he had a lot on his mind, and he knew he may as well get up. He switched on the light and went to his bathroom to relieve himself. He thought of the reports he’d been seeing about the possibility of a Texas/Soona alliance being formed. Both sides were denying it, but there was too much intel being picked up about it to disregard it as rumor. Special Forces had been operating in-country for much of the last year behind Texas lines, and that whole nation was in the midst of a massive wave of change. The old government had been overthrown by the military, but rather than establishing a military dictatorship as many had predicted, the Texans had called for a convention to draft a Constitution. They were still in the process of working things out, but the old guard was definitely not coming back. That’s a good thing, he thought as he flushed the toilet and washed his hands. He had always hated fighting the Texans. They were smart, relentless and never backed down from a fight. They fought with a tenacity the Soona had never come close to matching until Wallace had come along.. He started his coffeemaker and folded his arms across his bare chest.
He had been waiting for the better part of a year to have his shot at breaking the great Soona hero John Wallace. This would now be the third day since he had been relocated to the black level. Martinez was still furious about the scar Wallace had given him. Heredia had wanted to take Wallace to be broken immediately, but Martinez insisted on waiting until he was ready. He’d promised to let Heredia help him, and that satisfied him enough to let it go. The smell of coffee began to fill the room, and he shook his head as he found his uniform and got dressed. He poured himself a cup of coffee into his insulated mug and headed out into the hall.
He liked the quiet of nighttime here at the facility. The lights were dimmed to simulate night, and most of the staff was asleep. He walked past the medical clinic and saw the nurse sitting bored at her desk reading something. Hardly anyone was on duty at this hour. There was someone on guard duty down in the black level, and someone patrolled the halls up here. Tonight, it was Munroe. They exchanged a few minutes of casual conversation before Heredia continued down the hall to the elevator. He took the elevator to the black level and entered his code to access the doors. He walked down the hall to where Diaz sat reading a magazine at the guard station.
“Hey, insomnia get you again?” Diaz remarked without looking up from his magazine.
“Yeah, I might as well get some work done. How are things down here?”
“Just living the dream, amigo… it’s another day in paradise.”
Heredia took
a sip of his coffee and scanned the line of closed cell doors.
“How are our honored guests tonight?”
“Man, it’s still a short list,” Diaz replied looking up from his magazine. “We have those three who were killing civilians up in the hills last month. You know; another one of those roving gangs of deserters.”
Heredia knew all about it of course. It was becoming more and more common to have a group of three or four abandon their unit and hide in the hill country. They would usually find some unsuspecting person or family living in a remote area, kill them and live in their house until moving on and repeating the process with someone else. He shook his head in disgust.
“I’ve never enjoyed beating anyone so much,” he said. “They give you any trouble?”
“The one started freaking out and begging to be let go… apologizing and everything like he has been doing lately. The others started yelling at him to shut up, but he just kept getting more hysterical. I finally just closed all the heavy doors to get some peace and quiet.”
“After what they did to that family, they should all be drawn and quartered,” Heredia stated coldly.
“I know, man. They’re pigs… may as well treat them like it. They’re under the death sentence, so they’ll get theirs soon enough.”
Heredia nodded. The military didn’t want to lose the support of the hill people, so they blamed these types of crimes on the Soona while arresting and trying the criminals in secret tribunals. They couldn’t use the regular prisons, so the prisoners were brought to facilities like these. Heredia had enjoyed his time with these three. They deserved anything he gave them, and he enjoyed giving it.
“What about our guest of honor?”
