Josué started to move, opening Jaco’s defense with a quick right-left, enough to land a kick on the man’s chest. It sent Jaco across the room and into a table. The lanky man fell to the ground then stood hastily to his feet.
Josué watched Jaco’s eyes. He could see the hate, and something else there – treachery. Josué barely saw the hand flash before the knife was in the air. With a twist of his wrist, Josué knocked the blade to the ground with his staff. It stuck there, point buried in the floor.
The room fell silent.
“Foul!” The burly man jumped up between the two and pointed at Jaco. “Get him out of here.” Two men grabbed Jaco from behind and wrestled him to the door. The big man walked over to Josué and grabbed his forearm. “We have a winner!” He raised Josué’s hand into the air amidst scattered cheers and more money exchanging hands. Josué bowed his head, grateful for the sense of decorum, even among these men.
Jaco cursed from the front of the restaurant. The man holding him tried to silence him then cried out in pain and clutched his arm. Blood seeped through his fingers. The noise of a blaster shook the building. When Josué looked, Jaco lay dead in the doorway. The men dragged him out in silence.
Acting as though nothing had happened, the large man threw his arm over Josué’s shoulders and walked him to the table where Felisa had sat back down and was trying not to look flustered. “Alberto, a meal for the winner,” the man called into the kitchen.
“Yes sir, Mr. Germán.” The host shouted from behind the kitchen doors.
“Now, tell us your name and I’ll decide whether you can live,” Germán said loudly, his head back, a huge grin on his face. Josué sat down across from Felisa. The big man squeezed into the seat beside him.
“My name is Josué, Josué Trevino.”
Chapter 6, Smugglers
Josué watched Germán’s Adam’s apple bob. A red tinge showed on the big man’s cheeks. Alberto arrived with a glass of ale, interrupting the shock on his face.
Germán lifted the mug and took a long draught. When his arm came back down he was chuckling. “He almost got me on that one. He-he, Josué Trevino. I’m Josué Trevino.” Germán laughed out loud and took another sip, winking at Felisa.
“He is Josué Trevino,” Felisa replied with sincerity in her eyes.
Germán hardened his expression and said firmly, “Josué Trevino was killed in the Omri raid. Who doesn’t know that? Even off-worlders have heard about the Trevino Family massacre.”
“I was disguised and taken captive by the Omri Family,” Josué said. “We only just escaped in the Dominicci raid. That’s one of their battle vipers out front.”
“You can fight like Josué Trevino, I’ll give you that.” Germán nodded and wiped his mouth. “I’ve only seen one better use of the full staff on the planet. Jaco didn’t know what he was getting into when he challenged you.”
Germán remained silent a moment, staring at Josué out of the corner of his eyes. It was obvious the man still didn’t believe him.
“Well, if you are Josué Trevino, this city is not a safe place for you.” Germán glared at him. “I can offer you protection, but only if you come with us. Otherwise, I would suggest you leave Sonora City as fast as you can. The Omri Family has a crushing grip on it. If Ormand or Atlantos were to find a person claiming to be Josué Trevino around . . . .”
Josué shuddered. The very names of those men made his teeth clench.
The red glow of the night sun showed through the storefront windows. They would need a place to go for the night. Germán’s offer of protection was tempting. Their short time in the city had proven how dangerous the streets could be. Sonora City was nothing less than a warzone.
Josué glanced at Felisa. Can we trust him? he heard in his head.
What other choice do we have? he asked back.
Felisa studied Germán.
Josué turned to the man. There was something about his eyes that set him at ease. “We’d be happy to join you, but I’m only here to find my grandfather. We’ll leave after that.”
“I think we can help you with that.” Germán set the now empty glass of ale firmly on the table. The big man signaled one of the others in the room then stood up. “Verdi will return your battle viper to you outside. They are a commodity around here. You’re lucky we found it and you first. Someone less favorable to your cause might have left you in more dire circumstances.” Germán grinned.
They got up and followed the man out of the restaurant. Josué tried not to stare when he saw the red burn mark on the floor by the exit.
Out in the street he was surprised to find at least ten more of Germán’s men. One of them flew up on Dominicci’s viper and handed him the bike. He and Felisa mounted it and waited until Germán flew beside them. “Follow me. The others will meet up with us later.”
Josué revved the engine and zoomed after the large man. In the half-dark, the maze of buildings seemed more peaceful. Shadows hid blast marks and bomb craters. Pale reflections of their ghost-white shirts bent over viper handlebars rippled silently across shop windows.
Do you really think we can trust him? Josué heard Felisa ask.
I don’t know. There is something familiar about him. I have a good feeling about this. Josué looked ahead of them and hoped he was right. At least the man had made sure there was a fair fight.
Germán turned down an alley and into a row of warehouses. At the corner he disappeared into a large bay and parked his viper in front of a loading dock. Josué parked next to him.
The big man led them onto the dock and through a door in the center of the raised concrete platform. They stepped down rickety metal stairs. Dirty-white tile covered the stairway walls. Round metallic lamps hung from the ceiling on what looked like wire power cords. A single bulb burned in the center of each. Josué wondered how old this place was. Lamps like these must be from the earliest days.
Felisa shrugged her shoulders. They look new to me.
Above the lamps, the ceiling disappeared into a black matrix of metallic beams and cobwebs. A cool breeze wafted from the tunnel below. With it came the smell of engine grease and shoe polish.
Germán led Josué and Felisa to a metal cage. It was in the middle of the tunnel under an oasis of lights. A circle of men played cards under its glow. One of them sat with his feet on a desk looking at a series of monitors and eating a banana. They all wore leather pants and white T’s.
Germán led them through the cage. He slapped a man on the arm and opened the door at the back, gesturing for Josué and Felisa to follow him.
Beyond it was a narrow hallway with white plastered walls. A green carpeted break room opened to their left. Two more of Germán’s men slouched in couches there. A holo-wall played a news report in three dimensions.
Germán led Josué and Felisa to a small office beyond the break room and squeezed past a desk too big for the room. Germán motioned for Josué to shut the door. “So you want to see your grandfather?”
Nodding, Josué leaned against the wall, careful not to upset the photos of the Sonoran jungle hanging behind him.
The big man landed with a sigh in an old swivel chair. Josué was surprised the chair didn’t topple under his weight. On the desk was an old computer terminal; at least that’s what Josué thought it was. He had learned about original settler equipment in school, though he’d never used any.
The big man turned the monitor toward Josué and typed on what was assumed to be a keyboard. “How much do you know about Sonora City?”
“Very little,” Josué replied.
“You’ll find out more than you may care to, soon enough. But for now . . .” He typed a few more keys. “Take a look . . . at this.” Germán pushed the monitor a little further toward Josué.
Josué leaned forward. There, on the video screen sitting behind a desk, was the unmistakable figure of his grandfather, Hernan Trevino.
Chapter 7, Hernan
Josué squinted as he tried to
pick out every detail of the room on the tiny screen. It didn’t look like any ordinary jail he’d ever seen before. Plush carpet covered the suite floors; elegant wood paneling hung on the walls. In the corner of the screen lay a manor-sized bed and strength equipment.
His grandfather’s shoulders bent over a large cherry desk. Shelves of books lined a matching library behind him. Long wisps of white hair shook as he turned a page in his book.
“We’ve installed a communication system here to keep in touch. When I press this, he can hear and see us.” Germán clicked a key on the keypad and cleared his throat.
“Master Trevino.” Germán spoke in a low voice.
The wiry man put his book down and swung his chair around. He checked the door then looked up with an expectant air. When his eyes met the camera, he gave a start. “Josué! You found him, Germán. Good job.”
Josué noticed Germán visibly relax. “We found him at the tavern.” Germán half-smiled at Josué. “Jaco ran into him, so to speak. But that’s another story.”
“Excellent.” Hernan leaned toward the camera, checked the door again and spoke in a low voice. “Listen, this isn’t a good time. Bring him by in the morning. You know the way.”
Germán nodded.
“Good, I’ll see you a couple hours before inspection.” Hernan winked. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Josué.”
The screen went blank. Josué’s cheeks ached from the smile pasted on them. He ran his fingers through his hair, surprised to find they trembled. Then a thought struck him and his blood ran cold, how had his grandfather known he was still alive?
Felisa caught his eye, concern showed on her face. What’s the matter?
Josué shrugged his shoulders and looked at Germán who was now herding them into the hallway. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place. It looks like you’ll be here. At least for the night.”
Following Felisa, Josué tried to push the confusing thoughts from his mind. At least he would see his grandfather tomorrow. He could ask anything then.
In the bunk room, the mattresses looked plush. Of course a carpeted floor would look better than the wooden boxes they’d slept on for the past two months.
Germán stopped in front of a stripped down cot. “This one’s yours, Josué. Ask the others where to find the linens.” He indicated a door at the side of the room. “Felisa, since you’re the only woman in our cell, you get the guest room.”
Josué eyed the door, unsure how he felt about her being so far away. “Cell?” he asked to distract from the look on his face.
“We’re a Syndicate Cell. Your grandfather has the organization divided into groups stationed throughout the City.” Germán led them into the hallway. “There are five cells and two operating bases where we coordinate and plan shuttle flights. Smuggling is the backbone of the Syndicate – space flight is the backbone of smuggling. You’ll learn as you go.”
Germán led them to what looked like Héctor’s weapons room. A tall man with long grey hair, dressed in a robe met them. Placing his fist in his hand, he bowed his head. “Welcome, Young Trevino.”
Josué returned the salute, bowing his head.
“I’ve heard of your recent victory. Only a pupil of Master Héctor could have done so well against Jaco.”
Josué smiled and looked at his feet. He wondered how he really felt about his victory over Jaco. Though he hadn’t killed him, the weight of the man’s death hung over him.
“Héctor and Germán were cousins, you know.” The tall man winked at Germán.
Josué turned to Germán. The big man lowered his eyes. The resemblance was clear in the jaw and eyes, though Germán was much bigger than Héctor. Perhaps the relation explained the instant trust Josué had felt.
“If I hadn’t seen him fight, I might not have believed who he was.” Germán folded his hands behind his back. “He’s a credit to his master, may he rest in peace.”
Josué looked at his feet and hoped his master was in peace.
Germán pointed to the back wall. “Marko helps us keep fit and teaches us how to use the new weapons.”
Felisa crossed the room and picked up a broad sword, testing its balance in her hand.
“Looks like you might have a new student, Marko.” Germán grinned as she swung the sword in a perfect arc.
***
The next morning Josué awoke to a large shadow at the side of his bed.
“Better get up,” a deep voice said.
Josué threw his feet over the side of his bunk.
“We’ve got to get there before inspections. Follow me.” Germán’s back led the way to the door.
Although he wanted to check on Felisa, he thought it would be better not to wake her. She’ll be fine, he told himself and would probably find the extra sleep a luxury.
He fell in behind Germán in their hasty walk back to the warehouse. “You better use a different viper.” Germán pointed to one at the end. “A battle viper is sure to attract the wrong kind of attention where we’re going.”
Josué mounted one that looked similar to what he’d owned at the manor and kicked it into action. The purr of the engine felt like a leather coat around his shoulders.
Outside of the warehouse, the cool damp air energized him. Germán retraced their way through the streets to the restaurant near the jail and parked out in front.
“This way.” Germán stepped inside and led the way through the kitchen doors.
Josué’s eyes scanned the room. There was no sign of Alberto. They went to the back of the kitchen, down a staircase and into a short hallway. At the other end was a wood-paneled door with a small frosted window. Germán opened the heavy door. Mist tumbled out around their legs. Inside, food lined shelf after shelf.
Before Josué had time to feel the cold, the big man stepped to the back and moved a lever. One of the shelves swung aside to reveal a passage carved into the rock wall.
“This goes under the jail and comes up in the middle along a ventilator shaft.” Germán stepped into the dark pathway then turned. “Keep as quiet as you can. It isn’t sound-proof,” he added in a hoarse whisper.
Jagged black rocks made forbidding shadows against the vent light more than a hundred yards ahead. Josué crouched into the tunnel. He felt bad for Germán, who walked almost doubled over in front of him.
Finally, they came to a ladder that disappeared above them into a metal shaft.
Josué climbed as quietly as he could, counting five branching shafts before Germán stepped across and into one of them.
They walked sideways down a short passage then Germán stopped and tapped out a distinct pattern on the wall with his knuckles.
A panel slid open. Hernan’s tall, thin frame greeted them. His piercing eyes met Josué’s. A smile lined his face as he stepped aside. “Welcome, Josué, Germán. Please come in.”
Josué stepped into the room and into his grandfather’s trembling embrace. The smell of his shirt was a mixture of starch and Trevino aftershave, just like what his father used to wear. He blinked at the memory.
His grandfather cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you safe, my boy.” His grandfather’s voice wavered. “I’m glad you found Germán. There’s not a better person you could have run into in the entire city.”
Josué smiled and thought of Jaco. He wondered how his grandfather would have felt about that encounter.
Hernan swept his arm around the room. “Now you see where I operate the Syndicate.” Hernan stepped to his desk, taking his seat in a large, leather swivel chair. “As you can see, it practically runs itself with men like Germán.” He waved the two of them into seats opposite his desk.
“So tell me Josué, what was it like to be a slave at Omri Manor?” His grandfather chuckled and looked down at his hands.
Josué felt his face go blank, unable to think of what to say.
“Yes . . . yes, I knew you had survived the raid and where you were. Ormand knew as well. I was just glad you were safe. O
rmand assured us you would be safe – though you can only trust what he says so much.” Hernan pressed the tips of his fingers together, setting them to rest against his lower lip.
Josué swallowed. “I’m glad to be away from there.”
“Of course you are. And it was good you came here, though you may find in some ways, you were better off – where you were. If you haven’t already seen, you will. Sonora City is dangerous. A warzone in its own right. Germán will have more trouble keeping you alive than Ormand did.” Hernan looked at Germán. “I trust that will work out? It will be good exposure for the boy.”
Germán nodded. “Anyone who can fight like he does will be a help.”
Hernan paused. “Josué, I want you to keep an open mind while you are in Germán’s cell. He’s an excellent leader, one of our best.”
His grandfather sighed and shifted in his seat. “Your father . . . er, had his opinions . . . I hesitate to say it, but things could have been different. If Porfirio had been more ready to count the profits from the Syndicate . . . but that is neither here nor there.” His grandfather looked at him as though searching.
Josué forced a smile. He would keep an open mind, he told himself.
Hernan cleared his throat. “You’ll see. The Trevino Family will rise again. We’ll let Ormand have his fun with Apolino and the Revisionist Party, but it won’t go far. They use each other and will eventually destroy one another. That’s when you and I step in.” His grandfather smiled, though his smile looked tired.
“We control the Syndicate, as you know. The Syndicate controls the shipping routes, and when the Revisionist Party brings the interstellar fleet to this planet on rotation, we’ll control that as well – Apolino be damned.” Hernan crossed his arms and leaned back.
Josué looked at Germán. The man wore a smile too. The names his grandfather rattled off sounded like a foreign language. What was a Revisionist Party? Who was Apolino?
Josué wondered if any of it really mattered. One thing was becoming clear, he still had a Family and a place to learn something new.
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