“I understand your decision to do this,” she said. “I understand the mentality and I want answers too. But the way he’s manipulating us, manipulating you – I don’t like that, and it’s indicative of their mentality. If we give in to this, it will never end.”
That was something I hadn’t really considered. I was just so quick to want to make it go away, to take care of it. Maybe that was the point. They wanted me reacting and not thinking, they wanted me to be at their mercy, and it was working.
“I want answers, but I want them for me.” I said. “They can think they’re pulling my strings and people can make comments – but I know what I want to do, and what I need to do, and I won’t let them stop me. Avoiding them is the same as allowing them to manipulate me.”
“She has a point,” Antonio said.
“I know,” my aunt said. She got up and started pacing again. “I don’t disagree. We just need to be smart about this. It’s not so simple.”
“I could make it simple,” I said. “I go in the middle of the night. We don’t wait, we don’t give anyone a chance to prepare or come up with a plan. We move before they expect it.”
Antonio leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I agree,” he said. “I know I don’t have an official say but I think it’s smart and it solves a lot of our issues. You go in secret, we take care of it and you never have to see him again.”
That part did make me a little bit wary. I didn’t want to leave him behind entirely, not right then. But maybe this meeting would solve that. Maybe I’d finally be able to give up my hope that he was not a real terrorist, and stop thinking that he was somehow redeemable. Even a genuine apology wouldn’t change things now. I’d always know what he’d done.
But this meeting might also convince me that he was a threat to me, and block out any chance for a future friendship. If I knew for sure what he’d been planning, and what awful things he had in store for me, I could let go. I was on the cusp of it, I just needed something to push me over the edge.
“I think we should do it,” I said with a resigned sigh. “We all know I’m going to end up in that interrogation room one way or another, so I might as well do it while I have some privacy.”
“I think that is wise,” my aunt said, after a long pause. “I truly do. I’m not happy about this situation, or being manipulated like this. But I think your decision is a wise one.”
I beamed. I could really use the vote of confidence right now. It felt like I had disappointed people again and again over the past few weeks this had been going on. But if Aunt Sonia trusted me, I’d keep trying.
“I won’t fail you,” I said.
It was actually a Star Wars reference, which only Antonio got. He snorted, and my aunt – who was trying to be serious – elbowed him hard in the ribs. I smiled. It was corny and dramatic but I meant it. I never wanted to let Aunt Sonia down, ever. Her trust was the greatest compliment anyone could ever give me and I wasn’t going to waste that.
“Just give me a bit to get ready,” I said.
She nodded. We both knew I didn’t mean my makeup or my hair or what I was wearing. I would probably just throw on a hoodie to hide my face as best I could. But what I was truly concerned about was getting my head around it. I was going into a room with Carlo, to become his interrogator. He had ways of getting under my skin and pulling at my heartstrings. Carlo had always been kind, he’d always acted like a friend to me.
But this stranger hiding behind the deception was someone I did not know, and was afraid to meet. What was he capable of?
So I excused myself and walked down the hall. I took each step one at a time and felt it from where my heel hit the floor and up my leg. Each movement was going to bring me closer to the answer.
I counted the steps, head up, shoulders back, like a heroine in one of Ben’s video games. It wasn’t a bad analogy, I realized. Each new challenge was like a new level in the game, and each new difficulty was a boss to face. It helped to think about life as a series of challenges, and that’s the way it was supposed to be. We’re always focused on one main achievement: love, money, a new pet, and we think when we get that, things will be fine. Then we’ll be happy. But then comes the next level – and it’s bound to be harder than the one before. That’s life.
This was another challenge. It was an odd one, something no one else I knew would ever have to figure out. But I could handle it.
In my room, I went over to my closet. I picked out the darkest hoodie I had – a navy blue one from Disney world, complete with Mickey Mouse stamped on the back, and bright Walt Disney World lettering – but it would have to do. I slid it on and zipped it up slowly.
I’d taken a meditation class in high school, once. The teacher (who reeked of incense and wore loose fitting clothes of all colors) said that the key to mindfulness and meditation was about focusing on the small details of things, feeling the breath of the universe by focusing on the smallest actions: a zipper latching, the click of a door shutting. These things were the building blocks of the universe. You choose something to be the center, and you go outward from there.
I took a deep breath. Yes, I thought, that was what I needed. To find my center.
In the mirror, I could see that I was tired. I looked older. But it wasn’t just that; I was maturing. I was getting smarter and wiser, and maybe someday I’d make a good queen because of all this.
But to be that person, I had to get through this first. So I took one last breath and let it out as I stepped out my door, knowing that when I came back, I’d be different. Would I recognize myself?
“You ready?” Vince mumbled next to me as we walked out, side by side.
“We’ll see,” I whispered back.
It might have been my imagination, but I was sure I felt him brush my hand, it was the closest he could get to squeezing it – the most comfort he could offer me when he was in the clothes of a bodyguard and I was a princess standing in a crowd of several people.
He opened the door for me and I stepped into the car. I sat down and buckled my seatbelt as he closed the door and walked around to slide into the seat next to me. He usually sat in the passenger seat in the front, but I was grateful he was riding with me. I didn’t want Benecio sitting there, judging me, glaring. I wanted a friend.
When we were both sitting side by side in the back of the car, he reached out and grabbed my hand. He did it subtly, but firmly, covering my cold, clammy hand under his warm one. The palm of his was calloused with work from the gym, the grinding grip of weights, the roughness of guns. But his hand was large and warm and could hold mine like a hug. He squeezed, just enough to tell me he was there. I nodded, taking a breath.
“It’s going to be fine,” he said.
“I know. That’s not exactly what I’m worried about,” I said.
He frowned and raised an eyebrow.
“It’s me I’m worried about,” I said. “Not physically, but emotionally. I don’t know how I’m going to feel.”
“Do you love him?”
I snorted. “Try maybe I have a crush on him and leave it there. I don’t know a thing about love.”
Vince seemed to relax, and looked out the window.
They weren’t holding him at a prison – not a traditional one, anyway. I’d expected a place with barred windows and electric fences, but instead he was being held at the headquarters for the Intelligence Agency. They had cells to keep people who were of interest to the agency. Walking in there probably made my mission a little less obvious, even if I wasn’t doing it at 10 p.m.
But I was.
The car pulled to a stop under a small awning at the back of the building. I didn’t wait for anyone to open the door for me before I stepped out myself. There was no rule that said I couldn’t operate doors on my own, but doing so meant risking certain dangers. They hadn’t cleared the area yet, and when someone opened a door for me it meant they could be a human shield for me if they needed to be. But I wasn’t in the mood for t
hat. I needed to be in command of myself. I had chosen to come here on my own and I would see it through.
“Your Highness,” greeted one of the agents. “Welcome. Thank you for coming.”
He talked like I was some kind of interviewee, giving a statement about the water supply or something. He opened the door and gestured for me to walk in. Benecio and Vince were very close behind me, likely flashing badges and nodding to their fellow serious-faced people in suits with ear pieces.
It surprised me how normal the place looked. It was an office. People were sitting at desks in suits and ties, like they were selling insurance over the phone. The only thing that gave them away were the weapons latched to belts throughout the office.
“This way, ma’am,” someone said, a woman with a serious face and hair in a tight bun.
I swallowed. Places like this, official places with stern people always made me feel like I’d done something wrong.
“We need to give you a quick briefing,” she said, and I bit my tongue to keep from making a joke about a “brief briefing.” Something told me she wouldn’t find it funny.
“Sounds good,” I said like we were deciding whether to have seafood or pizza for dinner. I hoped I looked as mature as I’d felt, looking in the mirror earlier.
She led me into an office, where she told me the commissioner would be in shortly to speak with me.
I didn’t mind waiting, but at the same time I dreaded it. On the one hand, I liked the time to myself to think. I liked being able to just listen to the light sounds of the fish tank in the corner and the slightly squeaky ceiling fan, spinning lazily overhead.
But on the reverse side I didn’t know what waiting around would do to my psyche. I’d amped myself up for this. I wasn’t sure how long my adrenaline was going to last if I was left to sit around and think about all the details. I tried to concentrate on the sounds, on the fan, on the bubbles running through the filter of the fish tank.
All I had to do was remember I had a job to do. I’d said I would do it, and I would. I was going to see this through. I’d force Carlo to give me the information he was withholding from the agents, and then I would leave and never see him again, no matter what sort of emotional game he was trying to play with me.
I took a breath and unleashed it just as the door opened behind me. I did not get up, I did not turn around. It was his job to greet me. That was another thing I was learning, that politeness could be seen as weakness. That me getting up to greet someone, me standing when someone entered the room, undermined my own station. There were expectations for me and I needed to ensure that I didn’t do any damage here by accidentally acting below my station.
“Ma’am,” the commissioner said, moving to stand in front of me, his arms pinned to his sides, his back a ramrod as he gave a quick, stiff nod.
“Commissioner,” I said, giving a lazy nod that told him he was allowed to sit down. He moved around his desk and did just that. “You’re meant to brief me on the situation.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said. “There are some things to go over where Mr. Vaspasian is concerned. Some things about the organization he is a part of.”
“Okay.”
“The organization – the Heledia Liberation Front – has some key members with histories of violence,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. It was like being talked to by the principal. “Vaspasian claims he doesn’t support the violent aspects of the group’s mandate. That’s about all he told us.”
“Do you believe him?” I asked.
“I do,” he said. “Since it’s the only thing he’s told us, I see no reason for him to lie.”
“Unless it’s part of a larger game to get me alone in a room with him,” I said. I didn’t actually believe Carlo was capable of something that devious, but I wanted the commissioner to know that I was aware of the risks and was willing to take precautions. I could play this game too.
He nodded, lacing his fingers together in front of him, and thinking about what I said – or pretending to be thinking about it.
“What we want to know is whether they plan on staging anything more dangerous,” he said. “They claim they’re willing to do what they have to, but they haven’t yet, beyond the threats and small actions.”
“Do you think holding him might provoke them?”
“We considered that,” he said. “But from what we can tell he’s estranged from his comrades. He hasn’t had much contact with them recently. He might not know anything of use to us at all, but we need to try. So what we’re hoping to get is plans, proof of some danger to human life, something we can prepare for or prevent.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Just get him talking,” he said. “We have recording equipment set up in the room, so we’ll get everything you talk about. Get as much as possible.”
I nodded. I stood up, and he scrambled to stand as well, his wrists pinned to his sides. He gave me the stiff nod again and gestured to the door, walking forward to open it for me and step back.
Vince was waiting. “This way, Ma’am,” he said, gesturing down the hall.
Several security guards followed me down the hall to the interview room where they had already put Carlo. There were cameras, they explained, and they would be watching me the entire time. There was nothing he could do to hurt me. I felt quite sure he wouldn’t be willing to hurt me even if he was told to try.
This was it. I walked into the room, and there he was.
My breath caught in my throat, and I tried not to show any reaction. He looked different than before, thinner. In just a few days, his cheekbones seemed more visible, casting shadows along his face that had not been there before. He was pale in the places where the shadows did not touch. It gave him an ashen, ghostly look.
He didn’t look up at me, didn’t seem to care who’d come into the room. He kept his eyes trained on his hands where his wrists were cuffed to the table, the chains laced under divots there, latched around small metal rods. He was examining them, like his focus on them was the only thing tethering him to reality. He didn’t move as I sat down in front of him. When the form of my body, dropping down in front of him, came into his peripheral view, he looked up.
It was as if he’d seen a ghost. It was instantly apparent that he had not expected to see me sitting there. He had not been told I was coming, probably never expected that I would actually answer his summons. But there I was, sitting in front of him, looking him straight in the eye. I wasn’t going to look away. He’d have to falter first.
He was visibly shaken, and didn’t break the silence. Neither did I.
But I would wait. I was tired, but I had all night, and I was willing to sit there. I could take breaks, or ask for water. I knew I shouldn’t, but I reveled in the realization that he was at my mercy.
“Hi,” he whispered with a gravely, pained voice. It was as if he hadn’t spoken in several days. Perhaps he hadn’t.
“Hello,” I said, my voice stronger, more resolute, more present. Cold.
There was a pause after that. Normally, someone would ask how the other was, if everything was okay, how we’d both been. But this wasn’t a social call, nor a greeting between friends. We’d never have that again. We were being monitored by a room full of security experts, all waiting for me to do my job.
“I heard you wanted to talk to me,” I said. “I’m here.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” he said. He swallowed hard, as though his mouth was dry.
“Your face says as much,” I said, crossing my arms. “Do you have something to tell me? It’s late.”
“I – um,” his hands began to tremble on the table. “I’m sorry—”
“No,” I cut him off quickly. “I’m not here to hear apologies from you. I’m here because you wouldn’t talk to anyone unless I showed up. So tell me what it is only I can hear. If you’ve got nothing, then I’ll be on my way because it’s late, and we are way past apologies.”
&nb
sp; He looked, if possible, even more stunned than before. His jaw moved on a hinge like a gulping fish, trying to find the words or the air to make the words. He blinked rapidly, his eyes unfocused.
I watched him, feeling impatient. All his confident self-assuredness was gone now, wasn’t it? A few days in a cell after what he’d done, and he was reduced to this. Did he expect that if I saw him, I would just have him released?
“I um – I don’t…”
“Details, Carlo.”
He stared at me helplessly.
My stomach sank with the realization that he had nothing he actually wanted to tell me. He was just hoping to see me, hoping to apologize, hoping for absolution. Well, I wouldn’t give it to him. I stood up. The chair screamed against the stone floor underneath me and he jumped at the sudden movement. I stood over him, staring down at him. I could feel my nostrils flare as I took a breath.
He looked up at me like he might be staring at the face of God at his final judgement. His mouth was still moving like a guppy and I was over it. My patience was gone.
“Wait,” he said. “Just – give me a second to think. I’ll give you whatever information I can, whatever is going to help. Just don’t go yet.”
“I’m not going to be manipulated anymore,” I said, voice low, dangerous. “You’re going to give me useful information or I’m going to leave.”
“Yes, fine.”
“This isn’t about you getting redemption; you don’t get to have that,” I said, sitting down. “You tricked me and lied to me for weeks. I won’t ever forget that.” I didn’t say I wouldn’t ever forgive it, though. I wondered for a long time afterward why I hadn’t said that, why I’d given him hope for forgiveness, one day.
“I understand,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to pull one over on you, I swear. It’s true when I met you, I was there to do surveillance for the Front. But I didn’t know about the gunman! And I…they haven’t talked to me in weeks.”
“What do you mean?”
“I hadn’t been going to meetings,” he said. “We meet once a month—”
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