by Jim Heskett
“I’m not sure. I think it’s the best we have at the moment. Maybe Tenney has a better idea.”
Rosia let her eyes unfocus as she stared down into the courtyard. “Or, maybe he’s dead in an alley somewhere. I don’t know if splitting up from him was a smart idea. Maybe Tenney being on his own isn’t the best thing for him right now.”
“Or, maybe it is. Maybe he needs space to figure things out. I trust him to take care of himself.”
“You’re right. I trust him too.” She leaned a little forward and squinted. “Wait a second.”
"What is it?" Yorick asked.
Rosia went from a squint to wide-open eyes. She flicked her nose at something in the courtyard as if pointing toward it. An urgent expression on her face.
Yorick’s eyes wandered over the collection of people and movement below until he saw where she’d been looking. Diego. The scar on his face stood out like a lightning bolt in the dark.
"There he is," Yorick said, fighting the urge to grit his teeth.
“I thought I saw him yesterday, but I wasn’t sure. If I had a knife, I might run down those stairs and stab him right now."
Yorick gave her a quick pinch on the arm to snap her out of her trance. "No, this is what we need. This is exactly what we need."
Rosia raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"He’s our way in. You saw the king give him that medal. It's hard for me to believe or understand, but for some reason, Diego is important to the king. He has access, or he knows how to get it. That’s what we need to help the serfs. Diego’s access.”
The possibilities dawned on Yorick. He leaned over the railing, elbows on the ledge. Down below Diego was holding a drink in his hand, pushing his long black hair off his shoulders, speaking with a pale-skinned puta as she lounged in a spot of grass next to the waterfall in the courtyard. She grinned up at him, pretending to hang on his every word.
Not long ago, he’d been their adversary on the battlefield. Since seeing him on the video screen two days before, Yorick had been kicking himself for allowing Diego to leave the plantación alive. But maybe being in such close proximity was exactly what they needed.
"He's our way in," Yorick mused.
Chapter Twelve
Diego stood under the awning of the cobbler’s shop, his heart racing. He hadn’t even done any drugs this morning, but his pulse throbbed against his neck anyway. A quick release at the brothel hadn’t done much to ease his tension, either.
Seeing his father for the first time in two years. So much had happened in that short time. So much had changed.
Would he tell his father about his new job, working directly for the king? On the one hand, the old man might finally express some form of outward pride. On the other hand, Diego didn’t even know what to say. He knew almost nothing about his role other than the project was called Operation Home and it had something to do with the plantacións and city-states all across the kingdom. Nichol had said he’d fill Diego in on the relevant details later.
No, Diego decided to keep it silent for now. Perhaps the king would want it that way. The whole thing had seemed covert and high-profile. Once he knew exactly what the thing was, then he could tell his father. After all, the old man was supposedly going to be around Denver more now. Something had changed, and he’d said he wouldn’t travel as much.
Mornings clouds obscured the sky, fluffy puffs of charcoal from the plains to the mountains. At least they kept the late summer heat at bay.
Diego pulled his hair back into a ponytail and then held up a hand to block the sun. A car arrived. He saw the older man get out and cross the street, a thick grin on his face.
Diego took a few steps forward, and they met on the sidewalk. His father’s wrinkly face spread as wide as his arms when he came in for a hug. Diego let his father wrap his arms around him. The embrace lasted for a few seconds before his father pulled back and tugged on the ends of that long hair.
“When you going to get a haircut?”
Diego shrugged. “I like it. It’s not going anywhere.”
“People around here don’t mind you walking around, looking like something from a Kansas gypsy roadside attraction?”
Diego didn’t quite get the meaning, but he took it as a lighthearted jab. “No, no one thinks I’m a gypsy.”
“Suit yourself.” The old man smiled. “It’s good to see you again. Let’s not go two years next time.”
“Agreed. How was Montana?”
“Good. The trip ended a few days ago, but there’s always so much to do.”
“I’m just glad we could see each other. I know you’re busy.”
His father’s face soured. “Speaking of, I have some bad news. I know I said I could stay the day and we would have lunch, but I’m afraid I have to leave again. But I’ll be right back within a day or two, then we can have more time. I promise.”
Diego didn’t quite know what to say. He was disappointed, but he tried his best to hide it. “Sure. I understand.”
“It’s out of my hands. I wish I could have told you sooner, but I just found out myself.”
“No, it’s okay. Do what you have to do.”
His father pointed at the parked car. “I need to run an errand. I’m meeting with someone. Do you want to come with me? We can catch up in the car on the way over, at least. I can do that much.”
“That sounds nice.”
Diego walked to the car parked along the side of the street and entered the passenger side. His dad slid in and pressed the startup button. The car whirred to life, and only then did Diego note it was a brand new car. He’d never seen this one before.
Along the way, his father did most of the talking. He recounted tales about business ventures in Wyoming, Kansas, and Eastern Colorado. He talked about buying and selling Notes to trade against the rise and fall of gold in other states. His spirits seemed high, and he spoke rapidly and with lots of vigor.
But, something was wrong. Diego could tell.
“There’s this area north of Texas,” his father said. “It used to be called Oklahoma, but Texas annexed it, then renounced it… I don’t even know. But, the point is, they have huge swaths of land out there for next-to-nothing. None of it is officially registered, so there are no transfer taxes.”
Diego raised an eyebrow. “No taxes? How does the king allow that?”
“He doesn’t know about it, I would suspect. Texas is a bit outside his reach. Especially Oklahoma, now that it’s not officially part of anything. I’m sure no one is eager to tell the king about it, if you know what I mean.”
Diego chewed on his lip for a moment. What an odd thing for his father to say. Surely, he wasn’t engaging in the buying and selling of land without the king’s knowledge and consent? That would be treason. Maybe Diego had misunderstood the details. He let it go and tried to listen as his dad told more stories, commenting when it seemed appropriate.
“Did you know the king has executed over a hundred dissidents in the last month?” his father asked after a brief silence.
Diego shrugged. He didn’t know what to say to that.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the outside of an ominous brick building. A tall and thin man stood in the alley behind, smoking a cigarette and leaning against the brick. Round goggles on his face. He was a sun worshipper, which was odd enough. But, even more, Diego thought he recognized the man. Something was terribly familiar about him.
After staring for a few seconds, Diego became sure. He’d seen pictures of this man somewhere.
“I need to meet my friend Santiago,” Diego’s father said. “This will only take a few minutes. I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.”
He patted Diego on the knee and then left the car. Diego rolled the name Santiago around his head for a few seconds, then he sucked in a breath. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the dashboard.
Santiago? The terrorist?
Was his father associating with known enemies of the king?
�
�This can’t be right,” Diego said, muttering to himself. But then, he spent a few seconds considering. How well did Diego actually know what his father did for a living? They had spoken little over the last several years. Diego had spent so much time undercover inside Wybert’s plantación, he barely knew his parents anymore.
While Diego’s father spoke to Santiago, they leaned in close and exchanged objects. Envelopes, possibly, but it was too hard to tell for sure. They were engaging in something illegal, no doubt about it.
An urge to run straight to the king with this info tugged at him. But what would happen to his father if he did?
A swift execution, most likely.
Better yet, the smart move would be to wait and watch. Gather information, and then speak to the king. If necessary. Maybe things were going on here Diego didn’t understand. A lack of context.
The meeting broke up, and Diego relaxed in his seat as the door opened and his father slid inside. For a moment, a thick silence bloomed between the two of them.
The old man’s hands settled on the steering wheel, an unnecessary gesture since the car had self-drive.
“There’s one more thing,” Diego’s father said as his face pulled down into a frown. “I have to tell you about your mother.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tenney strode down the bicycle path with the grocery bag in his hand. As the new guy, they’d sent him out to procure food for everyone. The task had made him exceedingly nervous. The soldados could lie in wait around any corner. While he hadn’t seen wanted posters like the ones in the towns in Wyoming, he had to assume soldados here might arrest him on sight. If they recognized him.
But, he’d had no trouble at the grocery store. Exchanging Notes for groceries was a new experience, but Tenney had handled this task with little trouble. This general concept of commerce was a strange one to him, actually. His whole life he’d received room and board in exchange for daily backbreaking labor. Now, not a serf, he could see how most people had nearly the same deal, except with an employer and landlord, instead of an owner.
Much of the speech he’d spat at Santiago yesterday in the van had been true. A little bit of acting to help persuade the sun worshipper boss of his commitment, but Tenney could see the seedy underbelly of this city. Hard not to, once you focus your eyes and pay attention.
He was smart enough to realize how the events of the last few days had colored his mood. But, he also didn’t know if he would find a path out of his current state. Part of him wanted to burn the world down.
Tenney turned onto the street which would lead him back to the brick building occupied by Santiago and the sun worshippers. His neck tensed as soon as he saw it. Only one day ago, they had assaulted a crew of hapless security guards somewhere in town to steal a crate full of explosives and detonators. And, those explosives were going to be used today. At least, that’s what Santiago had said. Who knew if he’d meant it, or if that had been a part of the initiation into the group? Tenney wasn’t sure.
Either way, he wasn’t okay with it, but he didn’t know what he could do. Report them to the soldados? Not a chance. Maybe he could find out where the bombing would take place and get there early, to warn people.
Or, maybe there was nothing he could do.
Tenney noted a car parked near the building, and he squinted to see someone in the passenger seat. Diego.
“Mierda1,” Tenney muttered as he ducked behind a small covered structure on the sidewalk. Bus schedules covered the inside.
He peeked out from around the edge, studying Diego. As far as he could tell, Diego hadn’t seen him yet. Why was he sitting in that car, staring at his hands? Not even in the driver’s seat.
A moment later, Tenney’s jaw dropped. Walking away from the sun worshipper building was a man Tenney had last seen three days ago, delivering him and his two friends to Denver as slaves.
Laertes, Yorick’s father.
Tenney pulled back as he watched Laertes get into the same car as Diego. They sat there for a moment, Laertes with a pained expression on his face. They conversed, and after a moment, Diego burst into tears. Tenney’s head spun with a swirl of the events his eyes told him were true. But, it made no sense.
What in the stars was happening?
And then, the realization hit Tenney all at once. On the way to the slave processing facility, Laertes and Yorick’s now-deceased mother Olivia had told him he had a brother.
And Diego was now with Yorick’s father. Blood rushed from Tenney’s face as his heart pumped and time seemed to slow. A million pins and needles danced across his skin.
Diego was Yorick’s brother?
Tenney squinted at the long-haired former leader of the Red team of guerreros, a guy a few years older than Yorick. Tenney hadn’t ever noticed it before, but he could see the resemblance now. Diego looked more like Laertes than Olivia, and Yorick looked quite a bit more like his mother. But now that Tenney knew all the facts, he could definitely see the family resemblance between all of them.
“Unbelievable,” Tenney whispered as he spied another look. He had to tell Yorick and Rosia. This was earth-shattering information. He squinted at the clock above the bank building. He was due to meet with Rosia and Yorick at the tea shop in thirty minutes.
Did Diego know? Had he spent all those years in the plantación, battling Yorick, knowing his enemy was also his brother? Why would he do such a thing, if he knew?
Or maybe Diego himself didn’t know.
Their car left, and Tenney hid his face behind the bag of groceries until they’d gone. When he stepped out of the shadows, a trio of rifle-wielding soldados was marching along the sidewalk. His sudden appearance seemed to surprise them, but it was too late to hide.
“You,” said the lead soldado, a man with a hook nose that looked sharp enough to puncture steel.
Tenney checked his surroundings. His destination, the building where Santiago and his crew lived, was across the street to the right. Only twenty meters away. Tenney stood on the sidewalk, a building one meter to his left. The nearest alley was in front of him, but the soldados stood between him and that escape route. He could turn and run, but he wouldn’t be able to find cover from the soldados’ bullets for several meters.
“Yes?” Tenney said, holding the grocery bag in front of him like a shield. The vegetables, bread, and meat inside wouldn’t do much to stop a bullet.
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere right now?”
Tenney held the grocery bag aloft as he checked the other two soldados, standing behind the hook-nosed one. They were both eyeing him, fingers hovering near the triggers. “I was buying groceries, and now I’m walking home.”
“In this neighborhood?” asked one of the rear soldados. Although they were only a few blocks from the capitol building, Tenney did have to agree. Many of the structures on this street were shabby, missing windows, home to squatters and drug dealers. At least, he assumed as much. Hard to know for sure.
“Yes, I’m walking. I don’t have a car, and I need groceries.”
The lead soldado leaned forward, trying to eye the contents of the bag. “Looks like a big haul for one person.”
“I’m a big guy. I eat a lot.”
This brought a snicker from a rear soldado, but not the hooked nose one. “Lying to a royal soldado is an arrestable offense.”
“I understand, sir. I’m not lying, but I do need to get home. If the milk and meats spoil in this heat...”
Hook Nose sighed, then he looked Tenney up and down. “Fine. Get home, then. And don’t let us catch you loitering out here again.”
Tenney nodded, forcing himself to keep his mouth shut. All things considered, he thought he’d done well. He stepped aside for the soldados to pass, then he continued on the sidewalk. Once they were out of view, he hustled across the street to drop off the groceries. He planned to deliver the bag and then leave. He needed to hurry toward the tea shop to report this amazing and horrible news about Yorick and Diego.
But, when he entered the building, all of the sun worshippers inside were gearing up in the main room. An array of guns and body armor spaced out on a series of folding tables. A flurry of activity compared to when he’d left an hour before.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he set the bag of groceries on a table.
“The job’s happening,” said one sun worshipper, a man with a tattoo of puzzle pieces on top of his shaved head.
“What job?”
Santiago emerged from a side room. He was clutching an envelope in his hand, shuffling through the contents. “Don’t worry about it, Tenney. You’ll know what you need to know.”
“How can I help if I don’t know what’s going on?”
Santiago breathed, his eyes darting across Tenney’s face. “Fair enough. It’s the big deal. The one you helped out with yesterday, to gather our supplies from that warehouse. Our 17th and Champa operation.”
The gears turned inside Tenney’s mind. 17th and Champa. A street address. Something about those street markers rang familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. How did he know that address?
“Who’s ready to cut off the tail of the snake today?” Santiago growled. The crew responded with a series of whoops and shouts.
The realization smacked Tenney in the face. He knew where he remembered 17th and Champa.
Because that was the address of the tea shop where Tenney was supposed to meet Yorick and Rosia in a half hour. The sun worshippers were going to blow it up.
1 Mierda: crap
Chapter Fourteen
Rosia walked the two steaming cups of tea back to the table at the tea shop. She set one down in front of Yorick, and another on the placemat on her side.
Yorick leaned forward and sniffed. "What flavor is this? Smells different.”
"Oblong, or something like that," she said. They had so many choices of tea here, Rosia hadn’t known which one to pick. Back on the plantación, if they ever did have tea, there was only one blend. They hadn't been afforded a selection.