Before the Beginning
I had been called many things before: assassin, two faced snake, backstabber, schemer, the man with a plan...so how had it come to this...
The world had just finished with the Second Great War, and now it was falling over itself to start a third. First Australia had split off from the United Kingdom in an attempt to keep its wealth. Then Canada had uncovered its own deposits of Australium. The Arms race between the United states and Russia got heated and then when Canada had tried to close it's borders to the sudden influx of immigrants, Russia had used the chaos to try and invade only to be stopped by the natural border of the Rockies. America had decided to help out when Cuba and Mexico had started up to nibble at their borders. The two governments of Canada and the United States had met and decided that guerrilla units would be best employed across the map.
I snorted in contempt as I read the newspapers. How were they going to do that, I wondered vaguely. They'd need people, people who had worked both in groups and as individuals ..not easy to find.
"hey Jetón*! You've got company! Hands where we can see them politico."
I blinked up at the guard shouting at me through the bars of my cell. I couldn't have company. As a suspected informant and dangerous criminal I wasn't supposed to be allowed interaction with anyone outside of the prison guards themselves for at least another year. Folding my newspaper and putting it on the bench that served as both my bench and desk I stood and held up my hands and head height. We're they so bored that they were tricking me?
However when I was allowed to slowly step out of my cell I was put in cuffs, hands in front. Also unusual , the guards knew full well that such poor precautions wouldn't do anything against any decision I had to kill them. My curiosity was certainly piqued as I was poked forward along the hall, past the overcrowded central cell stations and into the front area; the closest I had been to the exterior of this hell hole in five years. They stopped me in front of an unlabelled door, unlocking it and thrusting me into a cold metal chair in front of an equally cold metal table. Before I could move, they cuffed my feet to the legs of the chair, tightly. They left. I blinked in surprise, if it were for interrogation at least one of hem should have stayed, no? Something was off...
I glanced up, two air ducts...Not an attempt suffocate me...poison gas perhaps? Not a pleasant thought.. A possibility though.
The door behind me opened and I breathed in tightly , preparing to meet my interrogator. I blinked, she was a rather petite woman, not that that really mattered. I had learned rather early in my career that small unassuming women were often the most dangerous – like their own branch of a napoleon complexes. She sat across from me, a file on hand and opened it to the first page.
"Good evening, Mr Renard. My name is Miss Pauling and I'm here to make you an offer." Right to the point then. Quite a pleasant change from the double lawyer talk that I had been expecting.
"I zee" I nodded, this was all the encouragement she needed it seemed as she launched full force into a likely we'll rehearsed speech. "as you may know, the Canadian American Alliance is facing the threat of communism on two fronts now that Cuba and Mexico have joined in alliance with the USER. After the European war front our military is in desperate need of volunteers and troops." I nodded, hiding a laugh, volunteers was it...is that what they were calling snatching up any able bodied man that looked like they could hold a gun?
"we can get you out of here" that made me focus sharply on her, straightening up in the chair.
"can you indeed?" I acted casual, but inside my heart was racing. This could be his ticket out of Costa Rica. .if not he'd likely die in this hell hole...not many options..and not odds he liked.
"verry well"
...
*Jetón - liar, costa rican slang
I'll write more unless people have objections to my writing style.