Chapter 32
Not So Alone in the Dark
7th of Eighthmoon, MC 299 (6 Charles 9)
Arturo, Wellsley, People's Republic of the Malvinas (South Malvina)
A rough hand yanked the bag off Don Francisco's head. It did not change much, as the room was completely dark. He tried moving, but he was tied fast to the chair he was sitting in.
His mind was still a bit hazy. He was coming home late from his favorite cabaret. He never used his official vehicle for such visits and had picked up a cab. As he was telling the driver where to go, the driver turned around with a silenced pistol in hand. He put two bullets in the chest of Don Francisco's bodyguard. Before Don Francisco could cry out or try to escape, another man rushed in and chloroformed him. At least Don Francisco assumed it was chloroform. It seemed to work just like it did in the detective novels.
A match lit up and the little flame was held up to illuminate a nondescript face. He could have been anyone, which in a way made him all the more frightening.
"Hello, Don Francisco," the man said. "They call me Morelle and we're going to have a little talk."
Morelle shook the match to extinguish the flame. In the darkness, it was difficult to tell exactly where he was. He seemed to be moving as he talked.
"I'd like to hear more about your little side project," he said. "I believe it has something to do with shipments of corn."
How could he know? Don Francisco was about to deny knowing anything, but then Morelle lit up another match and Don Francisco was greeted by the sight of a face with dried blood streaked down his face from empty eye sockets and a gaped maw missing several teeth. It was Coronel Firentes.
Don Francisco screamed in horror as the match was snuffed out. He kept screaming until a heavy hand smacked him across the face.
"He resisted," Morelle said. "If you don't want to end up the same way, I suggest you don't resist."
"You... you can't do this to me. I, I'm a member of the President's Cabinet. I—"
He was smacked across the face again.
"If you're going to talk, I'd prefer you say something useful. Now, let's talk about that side project."
"I don't know what you're talking about. You have the wrong—"
There was a feeling of pressure on the first knuckle of his left index finger followed by a swift shock of pain. His screams this time were cut short when a leather belt gagged him. He choked on the belt a while until the worst of it passed.
"Now, there's a good chance we can get that reattached if you stop fucking about," Morelle said. "I'm going to start asking questions and I expect full and honest answers. The better you answer, the less you will have to suffer. You can even get out of this in one piece... well, two pieces at present."
The gag was removed and Morelle asked his first question.
"The delegation from Byrandia arrived in Arturo on the 8th of Seventhmoon. You isolated the diplomatic party in Davidi under the premise they would be meeting with President MartÃn in a few days. You detained the diplomatic party, split them up, and then sent them around to different facilities around the country. Meanwhile, you sent along the airship that carried them on the 14th, only for it to go dark three days later. I want to know what happened to that airship."
Already worn from all his screaming, Don Francisco wheezed, "I... I don't know..."
Clip.
"God!"
Morelle seized him by the hair.
"God hates a liar, Don Francisco. They say God is love and if that's so, He doesn't want to see one of His beloved children suffer because he's a liar. What happened to the Junker Jorg?"
Don Francisco could feel the pressure on the third finger and hastily blurted, "Wait! Stop! I'll tell you what you want to know!"
The pressure did not let up. If he did not answer to Morelle's satisfaction, he was losing another fingertip.
"The airship, the Junker Jorg, before we moved to capture the delegation, we sent in the Republican Guard to kill the crew."
"You killed the crew?"
"We couldn't fake three hundred dead, so we had to make it real."
"Why was there no distress signal?"
"We'd been monitoring the airship's radio communications. We started jamming their frequencies before we launched the attack."
"They had countermeasures."
"We have several Junker-class airships ourselves. The assault team knew the layout by heart. The radiomen were taken out in under five minutes."
"What then?"
"We set up a bomb near the fuel tanks. We sent a skeleton crew of our own people to fly her over the border. She detonated about a hundred kilometers into Kasshian airspace."
"You killed your own people to sell the lie?"
"It was a small price to pay. We made sure to spare the most valuable members of the delegation. We were keeping them in custody for their safekeeping until we could arrange for their return."
"Why do all this? You've made your country an enemy of Byrandia, of her allies, of the Empire."
"No! This was all part of a plan! You have to believe me!"
"What plan?"
Don Francisco paused. Although he imagined Morelle was a Byrandian agent, that was not necessarily the case. If he worked for the Coalition and informed them of Don Francisco's ploy, this gambit would all be for nothing.
Clip.
Don Francisco nearly bit through his lip trying to surpress his scream. Even as he was doing so, he felt the pressure on his pinky finger.
"After this one, it's the thumb," Morelle said. "You don't want anything to happen to your thumb. What plan?"
What to do? What to do? Did he take the risk of telling the truth or did he take the risk of telling a lie? What kind of lie would he tell? What would Morelle believe?
Clip.
Don Francisco cried out. Without the slightest pause, the pressure was now on his thumb.
"Wait! Wait! No more, please! I'll tell you! We needed something big to convince the Palatinians. Simply declaring ourselves for the Coalition this late in the game would arouse suspicion. We wanted to get in close. It... It was all my idea, to play both sides and emerge with the victor."
He could not reveal his collusion with the Empire for this scheme. He was certain they could do far worse than Morelle if he betrayed their confidence. If he took all the blame on himself, maybe the reprisals would stop with him.
"And you thought that simply telling Byrandia, 'See, we didn't kill all of them,' would save you?"
"It would if it came with Seleuceus' head," Don Francisco said.
"That still leaves 240 Byrandian lives to answer for," Morelle replied. "How much should each of those lives cost you? An hour? A day? Unfortunately, I don't have that kind of time, so you'll just have to pay the rest of the balance on the other side of the veil."
"Wait! I told you everything! You said you'd let me go!"
"I said nothing of the sort. I said you might get out of this in one piece. Might. The odds were never in your favor."
In a mix of fear and frustration, Don Francisco started screaming again, only to be gagged once more. He was sure to be thankful Morelle did not have more time to devote to what was coming next.