Resurrecting Midnight (39 page)

Señorita Raven took a breath. “Two were inside the vehicle we pursued. A man and a woman.”

The Beast said, “Only two?”

Señorita Raven said, “One man and one woman.”

Medianoche interrupted, “But there were at least three at Retiro. Two were inside the car that held the package. They definitely had the package. Rodríguez said there was a third.”

The Beast nodded. “I should’ve been there. This wouldn’t have happened if I had been there. We’d have the package and this would be over if I had been there.”

Señorita Raven snapped, “And Señor Rodríguez would be alive.”

“They had a special car.” Medianoche gritted his teeth. “The protest slowed us down.”

“I arrived to Retiro just as your train pulled away. Was stuck in the mob.”

Señorita Raven shook her head. “It was the crowd, sir. Too many civilians in the line of fire. Was impossible to get a direct shot. Impossible to pick out tangos when you’re surrounded by thirty or forty thousand protesting civilians waving signs in a downpour.”

The Beast nodded again.

Medianoche said, “First blood. They have drawn first blood.”

The Beast said, “We will draw last blood.”

Señorita Raven said, “Buckets of blood. No matter who they are, no matter who Gideon is, buckets of blood. No matter whose son Gideon is, no matter who his mother is, no matter who his father might be, he has to pay for what happened to Rodríguez.”

Medianoche took a deep breath. “Something you want to say, soldier?”

“No, sir. But maybe I should ask if there is something you want to say?”

“Maybe if you had stayed with Señor Rodríguez, then this could’ve been avoided.”

“We went over the options, sir. We agreed as a team.”

“Well, then, you know things can go wrong. If you ever doubt things can go wrong, look in a mirror. Look at your face and see how the best-laid plans can often go awry.”

“You don’t want to go there, Medianoche. You don’t want to test me and go there.”

The Beast said, “Señor Rodríguez is dead, soldiers. Nothing we can do to change that.”

Medianoche walked away, went to the window.

The apartment was meticulous. Smelled like baked fish and vegetables. War memorabilia were everywhere, so much that the apartment looked like a museum. Two books were on the table.
Las Venas Abiertas de América Latina
and
La Noche de los Lápices.

His body ached. Knees hurt. Pain in his chest from being popped twice. Head throbbed.

Age. That slow-moving end that seemed like an out-of-control freight train.

He wanted cocaine. He wanted a line of cocaine to clear his head.

Medianoche said, “Gideon . . . the assassin Scamz imported . . . he claimed to know me.”

The Beast said, “Repeat that, Medianoche.”

He did.

The Beast said, “Know you from where?”

Medianoche added, “North Carolina.”

“How?”

“The kid that shot me. He claimed to be that kid.”

The Beast said, “Impossible. That’s bullshit if ever I smelled it.”

“I know. He claimed it was my nut that fertilized that whore-bitch’s egg.”

“Wait. Let me understand. He claimed to be your goddamn son?”

“Nothing to it. He was running some mind game.”

“How old did the Gideon guy look?”

“He looked young but sounded older. Looked like a merc.”

“Nationality?”

“No idea.”

The Beast hummed. “Scamz is British. We know that for a fact.”

“Then Gideon could be British. He did mention London.”

Medianoche turned, faced Señorita Raven.

Enemies close.

Medianoche said, “Gideon had Señor Rodríguez’s headset. Señorita Raven was on comm. She can verify. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to add to what I heard. I think that’s what she was getting at. No secrets here. Just didn’t see the point of repeating a lie.”

The Beast rubbed his chin. “Señorita Raven. Comments?”

She looked at The Beast and nodded. “The tango said he was the kid that had shot Medianoche, sir. Called Medianoche ‘Midnight’ and said that was the name he had known him by when the incident occurred. From what I heard, Gideon sounded like he knew a lot about what happened in North Carolina. That was the reason he had stayed behind when the others had escaped with the package. To confront Medianoche. Our soldier was already wounded and escape would have been easy. Gideon said he was somebody named Thelma’s kid.”

The Beast paused. “Thelma. He actually said that name?”

“Said he was Thelma’s kid. And Thelma was dead. Said she died in London.”

The Beast shook his head, as if what he was hearing was impossible.

Then he said, “The easiest thing of all is to deceive oneself, for what a man wishes, he generally believes to be true.”

Medianoche said, “Demosthenes.”

The Beast nodded. “Demosthenes.”

Medianoche adjusted the patch over his missing eye, that North Carolina memory on fire, flashes of being shot, of that snot-nosed kid coming and going. He frowned at Señorita Raven.

Medianoche said, “Still, I find that very questionable. Very convenient.”

She said, “What do you mean, sir?”

“Right after you reveal that you broke into my files, that you have inside information on my life, that you have read my personal files, after you’ve followed me all over the city, this so-called assassin named Gideon shows up and repeats word-for-word everything you said.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

Medianoche barked, “Don’t pretend to be ignorant. Your IQ is too high. What are you after? Maybe you are part of some subgroup, and this mission is a conflict of interest.”

“I have no idea what you mean, sir.”

“Sarcastic bitch. Explain why you were above me, why you broke rank, continued the chase, and came out of the building above me. Explain why you were up close to the package and the helicopter that came in to pick up the Uruguayan that had the package?”

The Beast said, “Medianoche, soldier, slow down. You’re making no sense. Pull up a chair, take a breath, have a seat and explain what you’re saying.”

Medianoche did, told The Beast all that had happened, laid his suspicions on the table.

The Beast turned to Señorita Raven.

She blew it off and said, “It’s simple. I was at the door right after you ran out, saw you going up. I took another set of stairs, came out over you, wanted to box the runner in.”

“Why don’t we pull up the blueprint of the building and you show me these invisible stairs. I might be a one-eyed fuck, but I’m not a no-eyed fool. Manipulative
puta
. You’ve been very concerned with the package. Too concerned about how much it’s worth. Why is that?”

“
Hacéte coger
, you incompetent one-eyed fuck.”

The Beast waved his hand, motioning to everyone to stand down.

Medianoche backed down, engaged in a brutal silence.

Señorita Raven bounced her guns against her thighs, her jaw tight.

She said, “I will not be quiet, sir. I’m not a snitch. A lot of things happened in Iraq and Afghanistan, things that were left between soldiers, things that never should have happened, and things that never should have gone unpunished. Medianoche came into my quarters
uninvited
. He entered with a firearm at his side. His body language and the way he intruded my quarters, he came as a hostile.”

The Beast nodded his head. “What happened, soldier?”

“I demanded that he leave my quarters immediately.”

“Then what?”

“He refused. And he raped me.”

Medianoche snapped,
“Be very careful what you say.”

“Medianoche entered my quarters unannounced, without knocking, just walked in my door. I had just undressed. He caught me off guard. He was angry. I was naked, scared, fired two warning shots, told him to leave and he refused. He came to me and he raped me. I didn’t want to shoot a soldier. Sir, understand, one of a female soldier’s biggest fears is being raped by her own comrades. We remain silent too often when it happens. I refuse to be silent. We are supposed to be able to rely on each other, supposed to have each other’s back. Just like in Iraq and Afghanistan, our male comrades are assaulting us women who are there trying to defend the country. Comrades are supposed to protect each other. Are supposed to look out for each other. Well, he came into my quarters, overpowered me, and raped me. I’m not a snitch, sir, but I am brave enough to report the assault.”

The Beast looked at Medianoche. “Is that true?”

“Not true. That slag followed me to my apartment, drank wine, and we had sex.”

Señorita Raven snapped, “I asked permission to enter. Your door was wide open, for whatever reason, and I asked for permission to enter.”

“You’ve got balls. Bitch, you’ve got some balls.”

“Glad one of us does.”

“She came to my apartment and we had sex.”

“I came to check on you. You had issues earlier in the evening. The job you had done in Recoleta. You left a witness. You exercised faulty judgment that would’ve compromised the entire group. I took up that issue with you on the streets, and you became violent. You fled in a taxi. When I returned to my quarters, I saw your door was wide open. That looked suspicious, especially with us guarding a very important package. As far as I knew, the package could’ve been under your care and you’d been attacked. I stepped inside your open door and called your name to make sure everything was okay. I called your name over and over before I entered. There was no answer. So I came inside the open door to make sure everything was okay. I announced I was inside. There was no response. I found you sitting on your bed staring at your wall. I checked in on a fellow Horseman, as a soldier should, and you forced yourself on me.”

“Nice spin.”

“And Medianoche had white powder on the tip of his nose. He behaved like he was
bajo la influencia de la cocaína.
I can only assume that influenced his behavior toward me.”

“Real nice spin.”

“Then you insulted me after you forced yourself on me . . . you misogynistic prick. Why would I ever touch you again after the way you treated me after that two minutes of nothing?”

“I went to her apartment.”

“My door was closed. You entered my quarters without permission.”

“Your door wasn’t locked.”

She growled, “But it was closed. My goddamn door was closed.”

“And we had sex again.”

“You entered my apartment with a gun in your hand. I asked you to leave. You refused. I fired warning shots. Sir, he fought with me. My gun went off as we struggled. You can look at my walls. I was being held down, had to fire from the floor as he held me down. You can verify the trajectory angles. I haven’t changed anything. Sir, if you would like, I can show you the damage. My furniture was knocked over in the fight. My quarters are now as they were when it happened. I haven’t changed a thing. I haven’t moved a thing. He’s been staring at me since I joined The Four Horsemen. Staring and leering. And he attacked me on the elevator. Attacked me in front of everyone. Then he came inside my quarters and raped me. Sonofabitch.”

Medianoche snapped
,
“You wanted it, you slag. You were rubbing on my goddamn dick. You wanted it.”

“Just like a rapist. Always thinks a woman wants it. When I say no, I mean no. No does not mean yes. How many women have you raped? How many women have you done that to?”

The Beast snapped, “Enough.”

Then he sat like he was the emperor of Rome. In control. All powerful.

The Beast asked Señorita Raven, “What did you do after the alleged assault?”

“He got off me, ordered me to clean myself up, and walked out like . . . like . . . like I was nothing. It was time to report for duty. I reported for duty like a soldier is supposed to do. I put that to the side and reported for duty. We have a mission, I had orders, and I reported for duty.”

Her bottom lip trembled. She wiped tears from her eyes.

She said, “And now, because we were following the command of a coked-up, broken-down, one-eyed rapist, Señor Rodríguez is no longer with us. He’s dead out there. Like trash.”

“That was brilliant.” Medianoche clapped his hands. “A regular Meryl Streep.”

She snapped, “
Rapist
. Put that in your goddamn files, Medianoche.
Rapist
.”

“I saved your life, you fuckup. I saved your goddamn life.”

“Is that what made you think you could treat me any fucking way?”

She cursed him over and over, tears falling, the look of a rabid dog.

She snapped, “Señor Rodríguez deserved better. And I deserved better. This is not Afghanistan, and I’m not your fucking wife. You don’t have the right to rape me.”

If he didn’t know the truth, he would believe her.

The Beast said, “No crying.”

“Sorry, sir. I know.”

“No crying in baseball. No crying in war.”

Medianoche growled. He should’ve killed her when they were on that roof. She was as bipolar as Iranian president Mahmoud Ahma dinejad. She had no business chasing behind men and studying war. This one was smart enough to be a doctor or a lawyer. A fucking waste of intelligence. And beauty. Now she was nothing. And as crazy and suicidal as they came.

The Beast said, “We will discuss this later.”

She nodded. “I’m fine, sir. But I do want that incident on record.”

“We don’t exist. We have no records.”

“Well, I want that noted in the records we don’t have.”

“I want both of you to take a few breaths. Take some time. Think. Rethink what happened. Let’s see how we can repair this damage. We have too much at stake.”

“I have no problem being a good soldier. I’ve never had a problem. I don’t hesitate or freeze up. I’m not slow. I’m not disrespectful. I don’t attack my comrades.”