by Jim Heskett
The king nodded. “Yes, I expected she would say as much. She was only being careful, and I can appreciate that. While we looked into your background previously, she wanted to do some additional checks. That’s the problem with empowering people to make decisions. Sometimes they exercise that judgment.”
“I am sure she found nothing damaging in her research. I’ve always been nothing less than a loyal servant.”
The king gave a wry grin. “And, you certainly know the right words to say, don’t you?”
The king’s tone didn’t feel right. Like he knew something he wasn’t willing to reveal, to see how Diego would react. The man’s gaze was almost mesmerizing.
“When we came to you about spying on Wybert, did you feel conflicted about your loyalties? Was it hard to play a part for such an extended period of time?”
“Not at all, Your Majesty.” Diego didn’t like the way the questions were leading, but he knew better than to hesitate or break eye contact with the king. “Once I was sure your emissary was genuine and sent by you, I had no trouble following orders.”
The king nodded. “Wise not to act until you were certain. If only we could have intervened before those rebels had a chance to rise up and kill him themselves. I had the man overseeing that section of Wyoming thrown into Cherry Creek with his hands and legs bound.”
When Diego felt the color drain from his face, the king smiled at Diego’s surprise. “What happened there was not your fault, young Diego. You brought us valuable intel on Wybert’s resistance. The failure to see Lord Wybert’s plan to join the Frenchie rebellion has been dealt with. And, Operation Home will ensure it never happens again.” The king grabbed a handful of grapes from a bowl and tossed them in his mouth. “Did you, in your time there, ever hear about machines of war?”
“Like what?”
“Special tanks or robots capable of wielding weapons? Smart robots.”
“No, sire. I never saw anything like that.”
The king nodded. “Rumors, then. I thought as much.” He sighed, looking wistful. “It’s quite a predicament to be unable to trust the people under you. It makes you not want to delegate. And, as such, I take on too much. So many plantacións, I can’t keep up. Couldn’t stay abreast of everything they were doing. I’ve missed betrayals and conspiracies, no doubt.” After a moment of blank staring, the king cleared his throat. “I understand you were shot on the day the revolt happened. How are your injuries healing?”
Diego looked down at his leg, out of reflex. “Getting better every day, sire. I hardly limp at all any longer.”
“It’s miraculous you were able to escape and find your way down to Colorado.”
Diego’s chest constricted. The king’s words all seemed laced with innuendo. “True. I had contacts in Wyoming who found medical attention for me, and they brought me south as soon as I had healed enough to travel.”
“Glad you had the help. Now, tell me about your father, Laertes Ortega.”
The sudden change of topic jarred Diego, but he didn’t hesitate to answer. “He’s a trader of human stock, mostly. Engages in some other businesses, too, I think. I’m not sure, because we haven’t seen each other much over the last several years, not since I moved away from home.” He felt wetness at the edge of his eyes before he uttered the next phrase. “My mother passed away recently.”
The king nodded with a solemn look in his eyes. “When was the last time you saw your father?”
Diego hesitated. Since the king was asking, Diego had to assume he already knew the answer to the question. “Yesterday, Your Majesty. I had not seen him for a couple years before that. He was in town, briefly, and I went on a ride with him. A short meeting. That’s how I heard of my mother’s passing. He told me that road bandits accosted them on their way down to Denver.”
“I’m sorry to hear the news. What do you know about your father’s business dealings in town yesterday?”
Now, Diego had to make a decision. King or family? He wasn’t ready to commit, but he had to say something. “Little, sire. He met with someone, but I… didn’t see who. I stayed in the car, and he didn’t tell me what it was regarding.”
The king sat back and sighed. “Very well. Here’s a lesson for you, young Diego: take care in who you choose to trust. Just because you knew someone in the past, does not mean you know that person in the present, or will know them in the future. Water runs and blood pools, as the saying goes, but it’s not always so.”
“Of course. That’s good advice.”
“I am ready to tell you about Operation Home. Do you know about the network?”
“No, sire.”
“About a decade ago, we required lords and city bosses to install a new system of computers. We told them we were doing this to make use of the communication tools leftover by the previous inhabitants of this kingdom, which was partly true. There are thousands of kilometers of buried cable and even more telephone lines all across the land. My engineers figured out a way to tap into these lines to create a network. It means a way for all of these computer systems to talk to each other, should the need arise.”
“That’s very smart, Your Majesty.”
The king leaned forward, his robe spilling open and his belly bulging like a boulder poised to fall over a cliff. He drew a set of keycards from inside his robes pocket and handed them to Diego. Diego shuffled them, looking at each. Access to all floors of the king’s building.
“We can already exert mechanical control over the plantacións with this network. But we need to go further. We are going to turn this network into a line of defense. To spy on the local bosses, and to influence them, if the need arises.” Now, his face turned grave. “And I believe the need has arisen. We have to make haste. It’s time to put the foot down before the situation gets out of hand. This is where you come in. You are a smart, enterprising, and—most importantly—ambitious young man.”
“Thank you.”
“I have fifty engineers working on this project. And I don’t know of their loyalties. I’m worried whether I can trust them to keep the network connections pure and not place any dangerous computer code inside them.”
“Sire?”
“There are traitors in my government, young Diego. I want you to find them and cut out their hearts before they can betray us.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The power plant that White Flames boss Menendez used as his hideout and base of operations sat a kilometer north of downtown Denver. The plant itself was dormant, no longer providing juice to the town. A massive swirl of metal beams and cables, like a blocky spiderweb coiled across the flat expanse of the industrial area of town.
Yorick, Rosia, and Hamon sat atop an abandoned car in a nearby junkyard. Hamon had a rifle with a scope, but Yorick and Rosia didn’t have any weapons. Hamon had tried to find some for them but hadn’t been able to reach his contact.
“It’s big,” Yorick said. He didn’t know what else to say about it.
They weren't concerned about the power plant itself. They were focused on the two-story square building adjacent to the actual plant. That's where they would find Menendez and his people. Combining a collection of rumors and gossip gleaned from the brothel, Yorick had learned there were a dozen gang members inside, including Menendez. Most of the White Flames in the city did not live in this hideout, which was good news for Yorick and Rosia.
But, the bad news was not only that Yorick and Rosia were not armed, and they didn't know exactly where to go inside that building to recover the control chip. It was a small thing, and it could be anywhere.
"I would feel better if we had guns," Yorick said.
Hamon held up his rifle. “You can take this if you want, but I thought it might be more useful outside, covering your entrance and exit.”
“No,” Yorick said, “you’re right.”
"I would feel better if we had Tenney with us, too,” Rosia said.
Yorick had to agree on that point. They had still not been able
to make contact with Tenney since seeing him at the site of the bombed tea shop yesterday. Yorick had returned to the spot he’d drawn the circle symbol a couple times already today, hoping for a glimpse of the big guy. While splitting up had been Tenney’s idea, Yorick had come to believe it had not been the smartest move. To let Tenney wander alone in the city, mere days after the love of Tenney’s life had been killed by a soldado’s bullet?
Rosia gave Hamon’s knee a squeeze. “Thank you for coming with us. I’m sure sneaking out of the brothel twice in one day isn’t easy for you.”
“Of course. I know what’s at stake here.” Hamon eyed them both for a moment, then he continued. “It’s hard for me to explain what the last month of my life has been like. How I didn’t know if I was going to survive each day when I woke up. Going to sleep with one eye open. And how, even though I was only with him for a few days, King Nichol left such an impression on me.”
“You don’t need to tell us he’s a bad man,” Yorick said.
Hamon sighed at them, and then he slipped off the hood of the car, making the rusted hunk of junk creak as it rose a few centimeters. He set the rifle down. “Maybe I do.” He slipped his shirt over his head and turned around, exposing the flesh on his back. Yorick’s jaw tightened when he saw it. A crisscrossing web of whip marks from Hamon’s shoulders to the small of his back. They looked recent, for sure.
Hamon lowered his shirt and turned back around to face them. “Nichol did all that to me on my first day with him. No reason. I hadn’t displeased him in any way… or, at least, that’s what he told me.”
“Then why did he do it?” Rosia asked.
“Control,” Hamon said. “He whipped me because he said I needed to learn my place. I needed to learn to respect the rule of law and know when to keep my mouth shut. But, I hadn’t said a single word to him.”
“He’s a pinche monster,” Yorick said.
Hamon smiled. “You wouldn’t know it from his videos. He has a face for the public, then a face for those who know the real king. He’s a frightened bully of a coward. And you know what happens to bullies when they get power?” Hamon gritted his teeth as his eyes blazed. “This is why he needs to be put down. Why, no matter what happens, Nichol can’t be allowed to lead this kingdom any longer. Every time my back touches a bed, the sizzle of pain reminds me of why I’m still here.”
“Why is that?” Rosia asked.
“Because I need to be the one to drive the knife into his heart.”
Yorick and Rosia both fell silent. Since reconnecting with Hamon this morning, he had seemed like the same old person. But now, Yorick could appreciate how he’d changed. The bitterness in his eyes. The downward curl of his lips. But, after learning what Nichol had done to him, Yorick believe Hamon had a right to feel that way.
Rosia cleared her throat and pointed at the electrical plant’s main building. "Second floor," she said. "If Menendez has a bedroom, that's a strong possibility. Or else, an armory with lockboxes or a safe. With as valuable as this thing is, they’ll want to keep it somewhere secure."
Hamon tilted his head back and forth. "Or, if Menendez is as cocky about the strength of his White Flames as we've heard, he might not feel like it's necessary to keep it under lock and key. It might be sitting on his nightstand, next to his keys and wallet. Menendez has worked so hard to build his name and instill fear, so maybe they would never see an attack like this coming.”
Rosia nodded. "You may be right. If we can, we should acquire weapons as soon as we enter. Because there are only two ways this works: quietly and unseen or bloody. If we don't have weapons, we don't survive the second possibility."
Hamon lifted the scope of the rifle and pointed it at the building. “I see two guards. A male on the ground. Looks like he’s patrolling.”
“And the other one?” Rosia asked.
“A woman on top of the building. She’s got a long gun. Probably a sniper.” He lowered the rifle. “Where do you want me?”
“Well,” Yorick said, “we figured you would want to direct things, so whatever you…”
Hamon shook his head. “I’m not the leader of the Blues anymore. This is your operation. I’m here to assist you.”
“Understood,” Rosia said.
Yorick pointed to a mound of dirt a hundred meters east of the building. “Can you make your way there and keep an eye on the rooftop guard and any activity through the windows?”
Hamon nodded. “It would help if we had communicators, but this will have to do.”
Yorick slid off the hood of the car. He held out a hand to Rosia. She accepted it, and after he guided her down, they embraced. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, letting the warmth of her body heat him on this cool summer night in the First City of Denver. They broke their embrace, and he held up his pinky finger. "Always," he said as he touched his finger to hers. She repeated the word, and they nodded to Hamon as they skulked off in the dark, toward the hideout.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Yorick tried not to think of all the obstacles between him and the control chip inside that building. If it even was inside that building.
On approach to the power plant compound, Yorick confirmed a few important details. First, the building appeared to have no external security surveillance. There were two guards, one on a roving path taking him around the building. That one was no problem, as they only needed to wait to be out of his range.
The other guard was an issue. The woman perched on top of the building with a sniper rifle. While Yorick and Rosia hid behind a dumpster at the edge of the fenced-in area leading to the building, they watched her. She would regularly lift the scope and sweep the area outside the building, then change position. Periodically, she pivoted between north, east, south, and west, on a schedule of one direction every couple of minutes.
“She’s going to be a problem,” Rosia said.
Yorick nodded, acknowledging her. He didn’t need to say it out loud. Sighing, he glanced over toward the dirt pile to the east and saw Hamon crawling into position. He would know better than to fire unless absolutely necessary. And, one shot from anyone would wake the whole building.
“I think our best bet is to move to those hedges over there.” He pointed at a scraggly collection of untamed shrubbery near a parking lot. Not much cover, but it was only five meters from the open window near the southeast end of the building. They’d already determined to enter there since there were no lights on in that area. “We time the ground-level guard’s rotation with the roof guard’s attention in a different direction. Two moves.”
Rosia frowned. “Risky.”
“I’m open to suggestions if you have a better plan.”
“I don’t. This is the right idea. I just don’t like it.”
“I could say it with a big smile on my face if that would help sell it better.”
She rolled her eyes, and he grinned a little, and they returned to silence. Waiting for the ground guard to make another sweep.
“Do you remember last summer, at the final battle before the season ended?”
Rosia nodded. “What about it?”
“I was thinking about what Hamon did. We were in the warehouse quadrant. Me and him. I’m not sure where you had gotten off to, but I hadn’t seen you for most of the battle.”
“If I remember right, I was with Paulo in the forest. He was new and a little too scared to venture out on his own.”
“Yes,” Yorick said. “I do remember him then. He changed a lot in his first year.”
“What did Hamon do at the warehouses?”
“Oh, right. He had somehow figured a way to sneak this smoke bomb concoction onto the battlefield. It was a canister, and it would pour out red smoke when he shook it. Anyway, we were tailing these Reds around one of the warehouses, and he triggered the smoke bomb. We doubled back and hid behind a truck someone had parked between the buildings. When we came out, every single one of the Reds was there, checking out the smoke. Hamon went into c
razy action mode. He jumped from the top of the truck and took out six of them at once. I’d never seen anything like it.”
Rosia nodded. “I do remember that. I remember the round suddenly ending and having no idea why.” She paused. “Hamon was always a good leader. Good strategist.”
“You were a good leader too, even though you only did it for a couple of days. It wasn’t the best of circumstances.”
“Thank you,” she said, then put a finger to her lips as the sound of boots in gravel came from the near side of the building.
The ground guard passed by, his back to them. Yorick studied up above. The roof guard, with her eye looking down the scope, swept the rifle in a horizontal arc. Then, she pivoted, now facing away.
“Go,” Yorick said, and then he burst forward. Gravel crunched under his feet as he shifted across the open space. He stayed low and kept the hedges in his sights. Rosia was a meter behind him, quiet and stealthy.
Yorick paused at the hedges, and then looked up. The roof guard was still looking in the other direction. Pause to wait for another rotation, or go now? He tossed a look at Hamon, in position. Yorick could barely see him, hiding at the dirt pile.
Yorick’s feet made the decision for him when they propelled him toward the open window. Rosia made an annoyed grunting sound, but she stayed with him. They crossed the space in two seconds.
At the window, Yorick reached up with both hands and grabbed hold of the sides. With a heave, he hoisted himself up. His arms strained and ached as he pulled himself into the open window, then his feet landed on hard floor. Total darkness in an interior space of unknown size.
He spun and leaned out the window, then threw a hand to Rosia. Had to hurry. They were out of sight of the roof guard, but the ground guard would turn the corner and spot them within seconds.
Yorick grasped Rosia’s hand. She leaped, and he used her inertia to pull her in while he leaned back. Her body sailed through the window, knocking into him. They toppled together, smacking the cold floor. Rosia on top of him.