Shades of Gray (18 page)

“You knew that before you grabbed me,” she said.

His gaze flickered over her disordered hair, and his smile widened. “The only redhead on the island—I would hardly make a mistake about that.” Then he stepped forward and calmly ripped her blouse open from top to bottom.

“A
RE YOU SURE
you want to do this?” Derek asked Josh through the headphones all of them were wearing. “We’re dropping into a war zone.”

Josh, piloting the jet helicopter that was descending rapidly toward a clearing in front of the stucco house, sent a glance toward the town, noted the rising smoke, the signs of fires burning all over the place. A war zone, indeed. “Durant didn’t say no,” he reminded Derek.

Raven leaned forward from her place in back and said somewhat dryly, “Didn’t say yes, either.
Not exactly. Roughly translated, he said something along the lines of ‘Oh, hell.’ He sounded a bit upset.”

Zach, who had been cursing more or less steadily since they’d first seen what was happening on Kadeira, interrupted his own swearing to say, “Lucio must have thrown his entire army against the town.”

Kelsey, who was sitting by the rear door and looking out, asked suddenly, “Why didn’t Sereno answer the radio call?”

“Dammit,” Josh said after a moment, and then concentrated on setting the big jet helicopter down as near as possible to the house.

They had made good time from Trinidad, arriving hours earlier than they had expected. And the radio call to alert Sereno, placed just minutes ago, had garnered a most unsatisfactory response. Colonel Durant had answered, saying only briefly that the president wasn’t available and warning them that the government wouldn’t be responsible for their safety.

Still, the soldiers near the house had drawn back to give the helicopter room to land, and on
those tired, grimy faces were expressions of only faint curiosity. They had obviously been alerted about the arrival. None took up a defensive stance, and none tried to stop them when they left the aircraft.

Durant was waiting for them at the front door, and though Kelsey was the only one he knew by sight, he quickly singled out Josh after a faintly surprised glance at Raven. “You’re taking quite a risk, Mr. Long,” he said in a voice that contained, more than anything else, weariness.

“Our risk to take,” Josh noted dryly, and quickly introduced the others. “I gather Lucio attacked the town?” he asked when the colonel had acknowledged the introductions.

Durant nodded, unsurprised by their apparent knowledge, and stepped back to allow them into the house. “This way.” He led them toward Andres’s office. “Lucio has gone berserk,” he told them, still tired. “He threw all his men in a suicide raid against the town. Even the townspeople fought them. He no longer has an army.”

“The revolution?” Raven ventured.

Durant shrugged, hardly the picture of triumph. “Over. But it doesn’t matter now. He’ll be president before nightfall.”

“Sara,” Derek said softly.

Durant didn’t answer; he didn’t have to. As they entered the office they all heard Sereno’s voice, a voice beyond weariness, beyond pain and fear; a numb voice.

“Vincente, try to raise him again.”

Durant went toward the radio but said, “He won’t answer. He’ll talk when he’s ready, and not before.”

“Try.”

The newcomers stood inside the office and gazed at the president of Kadeira. He was leaning back against his desk, his face gray and blank, seemingly unaware of the young doctor who was working quickly to bandage a wound high on his left arm. His dark uniform was torn in a couple of places and smelled of smoke; his face, like his soldiers’, was grimy and drawn with weariness; like his colonel, he showed no triumph.

He looked at them finally, seemed to focus on
them at least a little. Mildly, almost conversationally, he said, “This is not a good time to visit.”

Josh’s first thought was, God, he’s like Zach. And he knew that was true, even though he had missed it years before when he had first met Sereno. He had missed it, and that told him this man had amazing control that would not be broken easily, yet was now in splinters.

And heaven help Lucio, Josh thought. Because Sereno, like Zach, would act out of rage on occasions so rare they could be counted on one hand during a lifetime. And during those thankfully rare occasions he would be a human earthquake, a one-man army, death on the prowl.

A primitive force beyond civilized bounds.

Josh thought the man was very likely beyond reach, but he tried, and he used all the experience gained in more than fifteen years of knowing Zach; he looked into eyes that were windows to hell, and he didn’t waste time. “We might be able to help,” he told Sereno calmly.

The president continued to look at him without interest, without, really, very much attention
at all. “He has Sara.” A quiver disturbed the blankness of his expression. “He took her from me again.”

Raven left the others to move forward until she stood directly in front of Sereno. “We care about Sara too,” she said quietly, gently. “Let us help.”

Sereno looked at her, and it seemed that he saw her, that something in her was reaching him. Perhaps it was her voice. Perhaps it was the steady calm in her violet eyes. Whatever it was, it seemed to touch a cord of response. With a smile that was no more than a bleak curve of his lips, he said, “I’ve never asked for help before.”

“Then it’s time you learned to do so,” Josh said flatly.

The black eyes swung his way, seemed to focus. This time there was faint interest. “Yes.”

Sara hadn’t worn a bra. She wished now that she had, although he probably would have torn that as well. With an effort that went against every instinct, she didn’t try to fight him, made
no effort to lift her bound hands and hold him off. She just sat there and stared up at him. And it wasn’t his gaze she felt crawling like a chill over her bare breasts, but the other man’s, the soldier’s. He had stepped closer instantly, his greedy eyes fixed on her with lewd interest.

Lucio looked down at her for a moment, at her face rather than her breasts, then twitched the shirt back into place so that it more or less concealed her breasts again. He straightened and rapped out a sharp command to the soldier.

His face wiped of all expression but his eyes still hot, the soldier turned his back and walked a few steps away.

“Andres’s woman.” Lucio laughed but seemed oddly satisfied. “I should have known he’d choose one with pride.” He studied her for a moment with assessing eyes, then leaned over again and slapped her.

Sara felt the pain of the flat, openhanded blow as it rocked her head, but it was the primitive, soul-deep shock of it that dizzied her. No man had ever hit her like that, a blow meant to degrade and humiliate more than hurt. It was a
cool use of male strength, a sure gesture of domination. She tasted blood and didn’t make a sound. Slowly she fixed her eyes on his face again and lifted her chin. And she wondered how long she could hold out against his kind of calm cruelty.

Not long. Not long at all.

“Ah.” Lucio nodded as if some private deduction had been confirmed. “Strength as well. Good. You’ll break slowly, then. Excellent for my purpose.”

“And that is?” she asked, knowing.

“To break Andres, of course,” he said conversationally. He gestured to a silent radio set on a rickety table nearby. “He’s no doubt calling me now, willing to offer anything for your safe return. But I don’t ask anything.
I ask everything
. I will break him until there’s nothing left of him.”

“You won’t.” She was thinking of nothing, just the need to hold on, to gain time.… Anything to avert this planned destruction of the man she loved.

He chuckled. “No? Oh, I think so. I have a tape recorder I’ll get in just a few moments. It
will be delivered to Andres in due time. A message. He’ll hear me break you, slowly, and it will break him.”

She half shook her head. “He’ll kill you.”

Lucio was still amused. Horribly amused. “Cripples don’t kill, my dear. And he’ll be a cripple by the time I’ve finished with you.”

“What are you going to do?” She hadn’t wanted to ask the question, but it emerged on its own, a product of her instinctively shrinking mind.

“I’ll take you first.” His voice was chillingly calm and thoughtful. “Take Andres’s woman. I’ll tell him what I’m doing, of course, and you’ll tell him as well.”

Her body was cold, her throat tight. “No. I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. It’s amazing what a human being will do just to live for a few more minutes. You’ll be surprised.” He said it as if he were offering an interesting experience. “You’ll find yourself doing just as I demand. You’ll hear yourself beg for more time. For life. You will actually be aware of the disintegration of your
mind, and you’ll feel the tears come from a place you never knew existed inside you.”

If there had been anything in Sara’s stomach, she would have thrown up; as it was, she had to choke back the bitter bile rising in her throat. Evil. Only a mind of pure evil could conceive of, and casually discuss with an intended victim, the utter destruction of a fellow human being.

“You’ve gone white, my dear.” His voice was solicitous, just as a hangman’s would be when he asked politely if the rope was too tight. Not to worry; you won’t feel a thing in a moment. Not a thing.

Sara swallowed hard.

“It isn’t so easy to be strong, is it?” He was mocking her, speaking in a gentle tone and with spurious sympathy. “Theory is one thing, reality is something else again. Just think of it. After I’ve had you, Sabin over there will fetch his whip. He hasn’t had a lovely female body to mark in a long time; he’ll enjoy it very much. He won’t beat you to death, of course; that would
be too quick. He’ll beat you until you scream without stopping for breath.”

That wouldn’t, Sara thought, be very far off. The screams were, even now, crawling around in her mind, her throat, behind locked teeth. But she kept them trapped there. She didn’t feel brave or strong; she felt sick and terrified. But her voice, to her dim astonishment, emerged calmly. “You think you know Andres, think you know what he’ll do. But you’re wrong. You might use me to beat him—but you won’t break him. He’s worth a hundred of you, and you won’t break him.”

Lucio sneered. “The voice of love.”

Sara leaned her head back against the tree and conjured a smile full of all the mockery she could muster. “You think you know that, too, but you’re wrong. It isn’t love—it’s fact. Men like Andres don’t break. It’s men like you who do, hollow men with nothing but hate holding them together.”

Lucio smiled, but it was a tight, dangerous smile. “We shall see, my dear.”

Sara was afraid he was right about that. Very afraid.

“A reconnaissance plane took this yesterday afternoon,” Zach said tersely, placing a large photograph on Andres Sereno’s desk. “It shows a fair-sized concentration of people in the jungle—here.”

Andres leaned over to study the photo, frowning. “Lucio’s abandoned camp was farther to the east.”

“Could they have been your men?” Josh asked him.

“No. I was concerned with protecting the town and this house—for all the good it did.” Andres’s mouth twisted a bit.

Zach, the only one other than Andres with military experience, could have pointed out that—barring Sara—it had actually been a good tactical idea. Lucio had been forced to throw his entire army against the town and consequently had been defeated. Except, of course, that there
was
Sara; by snatching her, Lucio had also snatched victory.

Unless they could stop him.

“Then it must have been Lucio’s men,” Derek said. “There’s a good chance that’s where he’s taken Sara.”

Almost idly Kelsey said, “He won’t expect you to come after her, will he?”

Andres looked surprised, then thoughtful. “No,” he said slowly. “I suppose not. He would know I’d be cautious. Too great a chance of getting Sara … killed.”

Raven kept her voice brisk, knowing what this waiting was doing to him. “All right. We have the advantage of surprise. We’ll slip through the jungle and catch him off guard. Just us—none of your men.”

“I can’t ask—” Andres began.

“You aren’t,” she told him calmly. She met his steady gaze and smiled. “But we’re going, all the same. Why else do you think we’re here?”

His smile was crooked. “To help Sara.”

“So? We’re helping.”

Mildly Zach said, “We even brought our own guns.”

Lucio had gone to get the tape recorder. Sara took advantage of his absence and his man’s still turned back. Flexing fingers that felt a little numb from loss of circulation, she leaned forward slowly, her eyes on that broad back, and reached into her right boot. The rope around her ankles wasn’t very tight, which was a good thing; the short barrel of the derringer was wedged underneath it. She managed to get hold of it and ease it out.

She leaned back again, hiding the tiny gun as well as she could by raising her knees and by holding the gun against her thigh and covering it with her palm and fingers. And just in time, because Sabin turned around to leer at her. With an effort she ignored him.