by Kay Hooper
Rafferty and Sarah made no comment, but they glanced at each other, and both of them read the identical thought: there was, it seemed, some decency in Sereno’s regime. Shades of gray.
Both were also aware that Durant had quite deliberately drawn their attention to the prison, and they could only believe it had been a subtle warning of what happened to enemies of the state. For Sarah especially, it was sobering.
After passing through a guarded gate, the limousine stopped in the curving driveway in front of a two-storied building finished in stucco. As the residence of one man, it was somewhat imposing, but there was nothing palatial about the house.
Multicolored flowers typical of the island had been planted in beds and boxes around the outside in an effort to soften the stark whiteness of the building, and some attempt had been made to fashion the window bars in a decorative style meant to partially soften the impact of their bleak purpose.
As they got out of the car, Rafferty saw guards strategically but unobtrusively placed all around the house, and he knew that Sarah had seen them as well. Both of them heard the hollow clanging of a cell door closing behind them, and they followed Durant into the house.
They were shown into a book-lined room, too informal to be an office, and were politely asked to wait while Durant went to inform their host of their arrival. Rafferty, seeing the expression on Sarah’s face, asked, “What?”
She looked at him. “Oh, it’s just that I like this house, and I didn’t expect to.” Glancing toward the closed door, she reached into her purse and drew out what looked like a small transistor radio; it could be used as a normal radio, but when buttons were pushed in a certain sequence, it became instead a device for detecting tiny microphones.
After a moment, she replaced the radio in her purse. “Clear. How paranoid is paranoid?”
“You mean us?” Rafferty smiled a little. “In this situation, we shouldn’t ask that question too often. Best not to take chances.” He looked around the room, interested. “But I know what you mean about the house. It’s nice, but very simple and comfortable.”
“Hardly the home of a megalomaniac.” She lifted an eyebrow at him quizzically. “Shades of gray?”
Rafferty moved uneasily to a set of French doors which opened onto a terrace. “I wish I knew. I’ve a feeling we’ll have to throw out everything we’ve heard about the man and trust our instincts. I also have a feeling,” he turned to stare at her, “that this assignment isn’t nearly as simple as I thought—and was told. There’s more at stake here, isn’t there? Not merely a transfer of information.”
Sarah perched on the arm of a flowered sofa and sighed. She met his steady gaze, her own faintly pleading. “Hagen can be very persuasive.”
Rafferty didn’t look hurt or offended, merely resigned. “I thought so. He talked a lot to you about one’s word being one’s bond, and then got you to promise to keep something to yourself awhile?”
“I hate being manipulated,” she said somewhat fiercely. “I think he brainwashed me.”
“Well, I don’t blame you for keeping your word, however he managed to extract it from you. When were you supposed to tell me the rest?”
“Once we got here.”
“Past the point of no return? It figures.”
She glanced toward the closed door and lowered her voice. “We are here for information, but it isn’t written down. It’s in someone’s head. You, uh, recall the toy manufacturer from Billings?”
Rafferty sighed. “Don’t tell me.”
“Yes. It seems Sereno wasn’t so paranoid after all, I guess. The man was working undercover, and was gathering information on the terrorist organization. We—we have to get him out of prison and off the island.”
He stared at her, somewhat dazed. “We have to—? Sarah, my love, my darling, are you out of your mind? Did you see that prison?”
Despite everything, Sarah almost wanted to laugh at his despairing horror. But she didn’t. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Depressing, wasn’t it?”
“So Hagen never intended for you to use your skills as a cryptographer, right?”
She nodded.
“And he chose you because of your resemblance to the other Sara?”
Again she nodded. “What did Hagen do, demand your firstborn child as forfeit if you didn’t agree to this insanity?”
Sarah lifted her hands in a helpless gesture and looked bewildered. “I know it’s irrational. I knew it when he briefed me, dammit. And I don’t know why I agreed. I really don’t! It just seemed to happen somehow.”
Rafferty went to her and lifted one hand to his lips. Very gently, he said, “After this, I’m going to keep you away from salesmen, politicians, and other unscrupulously charming people. They seem to have an odd effect on you. I am also going to kill Hagen at the first opportunity.”
Sarah conjured up a rueful smile. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I—I tend to buy things I don’t really need if people ask me to.”
Rafferty asked the ceiling for inspiration and clearly got no reply. He looked back at Sarah. “At least tell me Hagen knew the layout of the prison? And put together something remotely resembling a plan so we can do this insane thing?”
“Of course he had a plan.”
“Well?”
Sarah didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed when the opening door kept her from replying. She got to her feet. Still holding Rafferty’s hand, but a bit more tightly now, and both turned to meet their host.
Photographs and television tend to flatten a personality and rob it of much of its life and sparkle, and so a truly charming and charismatic person first met through the media often seems overwhelming when met in the flesh. That was quite definitely the case with President Sereno.
He was unusual among his countrymen, in that he was over six feet tall and powerfully built. He was dressed casually in a white shirt unbuttoned at the throat, and dark slacks. But the informal attire did nothing to conceal the physical strength of broad shoulders and powerful limbs or the honed grace of his movements. He was dark, black-haired and black-eyed, his lean face handsome and bearing none of the marks of his reportedly difficult and violent life.
But there had to be scars, Sarah thought, inside if not outside. It was evident that Sereno didn’t wear his where they could be seen. He could have been taken for a man ten years younger than his thirty-eight years.
“Good afternoon. I’m Andrés Sereno.” His English was easy and idiomatic, the accent faintly American due to the American mercenary who had taught him to speak the language when he was little more than a child. His voice was deep and calm and sure, a voice that could move a country.
Sarah watched as he came forward to shake Rafferty’s hand, and she barely heard the introduction. She saw that Sereno’s shoulders were braced, as if to ward off a blow. And she felt, with a woman’s intuitive awareness, that although he had been prepared by his colonel to see her, Durant had not entirely convinced him she was not his Sara.
She offered her hand by instinct, and realized when she felt the faint chill of his that he was nervous. Then she met his black eyes, and saw a very small light go out in them.
She agreed with none of his policies and had come prepared to despise him. She had been shocked by his wounded country. She felt no attraction to him as a man although she was aware of his sheer magnetism. She was appalled by his willingness to shelter terrorists in his country, even if he didn’t aid them with arms or influence. And she was quite definitely afraid of the danger he posed to Rafferty and herself.
But in that flashing instant, when she looked up at him, what she saw in his eyes almost broke her heart.
Nearly an hour later, after having been shown through the lovely garden and house by their charming host, been given drinks, and shared casual conversation, they found themselves in a light, airy suite on the second floor. Their luggage had been unpacked. They found Rafferty’s gun lying innocently in the drawer of the nightstand, still loaded. And
Sarah had automatically checked and found the rooms clear of listening devices or other troublesome electronics.
“You’re not in danger of succumbing to him, are you?” Rafferty asked her, but it was clear from his tone that he knew it wasn’t true and also knew she was troubled.
Sarah sat on the wide bed and lifted her shoulders in a shrug, puzzled. “No, no. I just can’t figure him out. We know the things he’s done, he doesn’t deny them himself, and yet … There’s this house, and the hospital, and his welcome of us—and him, dammit.”
“All of which,” Rafferty pointed out quietly, “can be explained with the rest. What better way to endear himself to his people than by living simply and turning the former presidential palace into a hospital to help them, assuming he managed to supply and staff the hospital? As for his welcome—he’s doing a favor for a powerful man, and fully expects one in return. And we knew he was charismatic before we got here.”
“I know. It makes sense.”
“But you aren’t convinced?”
“He left your gun.”
“I’ll admit that has me a bit bothered. I’m sure the servants reported it to him, though. And, as I said, I wouldn’t be the first wealthy man to carry one for protection, especially in a place like this.”
“And he doesn’t mind your having it in his own house? With assassination plots springing up around here daily—almost hourly?”
“Maybe Josh told him I feel safer with a gun but that I’m not really into shooting island presidents.”
Sarah gestured. “All right, all right. At least now we know for sure that Josh did call him; he didn’t hesitate to tell us that, did he?”
“No.” Rafferty went over to the window and looked out. The house was built on a slight rise so that the town lay spread out below. “Nor did he hesitate to give us full run of the city—unescorted, if we prefer. I think we’ll take his advice, though, and not venture anywhere else. Judging by the gunfire we heard, the hills sound a bit dangerous for visitors. And those terrorists are around here somewhere.”
“He didn’t mention them.”
“No. And I doubt the group would want to dirty up their backyard by attacking guests of the president. Things like that tend to wear out your welcome. Still, you never know. Better not to take chances.”
Sarah smiled at him when he turned to face her. “You’re being very calm and professional about all these surprises, I must say. It’s very comforting.”
“I believe it’s called being shell-shocked. I don’t think anything could surprise me now. So I suppose I should hear about this grand plan of Hagen’s.”
“Sure you want to take the plunge?”
“I’m braced and ready.”
“All right.” Sarah banked pillows behind her back and leaned against the headboard. “First of all, I can’t be sure just when we have to move. Hagen said we would receive a, quote, unmistakable signal, end quote. Probably within a few days, a week at the most.”
“He’ll probably send up a rocket or something,” Rafferty said in a wry tone.
Sarah was surprised. “You sound as if he’s watching us as we speak.”
Rafferty gave her a confident look. “Trust me. If your boss isn’t actually on this island, then he’s probably out in the Caribbean in a submarine or on a battleship. Gleefully rubbing his pudgy little hands together while he watches—through an infrared camera or something—the strands of his insidious, sticky web being woven into place.”
Sarah looked doubtful, but continued. “When we receive the signal, we prepare to move. At exactly noon, we’re to be at the prison. I’ve seen a diagram of the place, and I’ll sketch it for you beforehand.”
“That memory of yours is coming in handy.”
“It saves time and trouble,” she admitted dryly. “There’s a back door to which I have a key, and I have a key to the cell—”
“I haven’t seen them,” Rafferty observed.
“They’re in one of my shoes.”
“In a hollow heel?” he asked, hopeful.
“As a matter of fact … yes.”
“I’m beginning to feel as though we’re part of Her Majesty’s Secret Service.”
“Do you want to hear this, or not?”
“Sorry. Shell-shock, remember?”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, Hagen assured me that, for reasons undisclosed, the guards at the prison will be distracted and far from their normal positions. We go in the back door, which is near Kelsey’s cell, and—”
“Kelsey?” Rafferty’s ironic humor dissipated. Almost to himself, he muttered, “There can’t be two of them in Hagen’s organization, unless—someone told me that Hagen’s team was small, but I remember you said something once about it being large. Which is it?”
Sarah looked puzzled. “Well, the organization is large, but the team of field agents is fairly small. Why?”
“Then there can’t be two Kelseys. Dammit, I know him.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Well, at least I know he’s a good agent we can count on. And it makes this whole thing a bit more personal.”
“He’s the toy manufacturer from Billings. Sereno locked him up about three weeks ago, just one jump ahead of several enraged terrorists who were after his hide. The official American version is that he was arrested six weeks ago, when he reached Kadeira, but that isn’t true. The press wasn’t supposed to get hold of any of it, so a hasty statement was released when they did. Sereno unwittingly helped by arresting Kelsey before the terrorists could get their hands on him, and his version is that Kelsey committed ‘crimes against the state.’ A nice vague charge covering a multitude of possible sins.”
Rafferty was frowning a little. “So if Kelsey hadn’t been arrested, chances are good that the terrorist group would have killed him.”
“Right. We must have somebody else undercover down here, because Kelsey hadn’t gotten a chance to report before they grabbed him, but Hagen knew all this, and is very sure of his information. And then there are the keys; somebody got them for us, but who, nobody knows.
“Hagen says that Sereno is holding Kelsey despite the terrorists’ demands that he be released to them. Sereno’s argument—and the terrorist group has made it a public one around here—is that crimes against the state take precedence over everything else. He’s in a pretty tough position. Apparently he isn’t willing to hand over Kelsey, nor is he anxious to alienate the terrorists.”
“Between a rock and a hard place,” Rafferty murmured. He frowned at her, puzzled. “Sereno is claiming that Kelsey spied against his government as well as against the terrorist organization?”
“According to Hagen.”
“Well, did he?”
“Spy on Sereno? Do you really think Hagen would have told me, true or not?”
Rafferty sighed. “Sorry. I wasn’t using my head.”
Sarah grinned a little. “Obviously.”
He eyed her, then said, “You know, the deeper we get into this thing, the wilder it gets. Your boss is a frighteningly dangerous little man. I wonder why he’s been allowed to live this long.”
“Nobody could catch him?”
“You’re probably right. By now, he ought to have developed a strong sense of self-preservation.” He sighed again. “So. After we bust Kelsey out—assuming we can—what happens then? I don’t suppose a crack anti-terrorist squad will come swooping out of the clear blue and nobly hold off the bad guys while we make our getaway?”
“I told you we aren’t supposed to be overt down here,” Sarah said matter-of-factly and in a slightly reproving tone. She kept a straight face too.
Rafferty gave her a fascinated look. “Yes. Yes, you did tell me that, didn’t you? I wonder why I’d forgotten. Um, what happens next?”
“We get him aboard the Thespian and sail out of here.”
“Past all the nice armed boats?”
“Hagen says they won’t be there.”
Rafferty came over to sit beside her on the
bed. He looked reflective, and his voice was gentle when he spoke. “Hagen says. Sarah love, I hope you’re not putting too much faith in what Hagen says.”
“Not much, no.” She sighed. “He hasn’t done too much to give me that kind of faith. At the same time, Rafferty, a part of me does believe him.”
“The hell of it is, a part of me believes him too.”
“He has a gun.”
Sereno looked at Colonel Durant, amused. “Of course he has a gun. He’s a wealthy man, and no fool. Stop worrying; Lewis will not try to harm me.”
Durant, moving restlessly about the room, was unconvinced. “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Andrés. If it blows up in your face, all will be lost.”
Sereno leaned back in his chair and gazed across the neat desk at his aide and friend. “Perhaps. The timing is critical. And the secret to success, my friend, is illusion. Outside this house, my enemies think themselves friends, and my friends believe they are enemies.”
“You can’t satisfy both,” Durant protested, and his tone held the sound of an old argument.
“I can, and will. For a time, I need my enemies. In the future, I will need my friends. I may go to bed with the devil, Vicente, but he would not be the first lover betrayed in the light of day.”
Durant turned, and a smile lightened his thin face. “True. It is, as always, your game. I’ll leave you.” He headed for the door, then hesitated. “About the other … there is no word.”
Sereno’s face grew bleak. “No. I expected none.”
“She looks very like—”
“Yes.”
The colonel left quietly.
The president remained where he was for a long moment, staring into space. Then he swore softly and rose to his feet, his expression that of a man putting unbearable things out of his mind, at least for the time being.
But she did look like her. And he could use that, if he had to. No one who knew about her would doubt his motives—and nearly everyone on Kadeira knew about her. So that would serve as his excuse, should one be needed.
