CHAPTER 4
"Did they harm you?"
Rollin and Cinnamon were being watched by the two men who had brought her back to the cell. They gazed in fatherly compassion as she melted into his awaiting embrace The senior guard thought the hug more like that of a greeting between a long parted couple. But he understood. The girl's ordeal had been a trying one.
"No, it wasn't too bad." She looked into his eyes and knew at once the transfer had been accomplished. Only contact lenses could hide Rollin's impressive blue eyes.
Quietly, the door shut beside them and the men let the prisoners alone. Rollin ran careful fingers through her damp, disarrayed hair, then smiled.
"I know I must look a mess," Cinnamon said, self-consciously. Her tone was barely above a whisper. Looking at him, she couldn't remember a time she'd felt safer - glamour or not.
"No. You look just fine." It was only a half lie, Rollin decided. To him, she would look beautiful after being trampled by a herd of wild elephants. But the eyes ... they had lost certain softness. 'She's seen too much and heard too many threats,' he mused.
Parting from him, Cinnamon walked wordlessly over to a small tub containing fresh water. She splashed a little onto her face. The questioning under hot lights had left her slightly dehydrated. She felt a little silly when discovering her muscles a bit tense. That surge of deep hidden claustrophobia was beginning to swell up, but it would never get to the surface. Cinnamon wouldn't let it.
[]
Standing next to his truck on the bluff, Dan watched Cordova.
He was stiffly walking the path up the hill to the IMF agent, when suddenly he stopped and sat slowly down. Sweat streamed down Miguel's forehead and his face appeared tight with pain. Dan trotted down the hill to reach the Polarian and grasped his shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked, with concern.
The sun was to Dan's back so Miguel had to squint when looking up at him. "Mr. Briggs?" At a nod, Cordova smiled and got to his feet.
"You'll have to forgive me. Last night I was whipped ... and I suppose the long walk did me no good."
"I see." Dan allowed a common half smile and patted the tired man softly on the back. "You can take the false beard and sideburns off now. They aren't needed anymore." Without ceremony, Briggs helped pull the make up off of Rollin's double. "I'm going to take you over to the truck. There is something there I want to show you." He led the way as Miguel followed. There was something vaguely familiar about this American. Cordova was certain of it. He had met him somewhere before. But, that was impossible! Miguel had met very few Americans in his lifetime, though he had been taught the English language at a very early age.
Still ...
When the men had finally climbed the rest of the way up the hill and reached the vehicle, Dan thumbed Miguel's attention to the bed of his truck. Inside was an odd sight. A short paunchy gentleman - extremely furious - was tied and gagged. He looked up at the men with visible loathing.
Cordova glanced back at Briggs then the man again. "I don't understand."
"He's been watching you ever since you stepped foot outside the prison. We practically bumped into each other. But he was too busy watching you through binoculars to notice me. That's when I got the jump on him. It seems that the Commandant got wise to the fact that Rollin is a spy. Of course, he thought him a Liberty spy. So, they had you followed, thinking you were your brother - Evan."
Miguel looked about the forest area surrounding them. "Do you suppose more men might...?"
"I doubt it." Briggs interrupted, "They don't want too many people involved with their scheme. But, from what I could get out of this guy, only the Commandant knows what he looks like." Dan smiled and looked carefully at Cordova's confused expression, "Do you want to make a guess on who's going to make a report to Traise?"
Cordova glinted a smile of his own. "Good luck."
[]
After they had finished their dinner of rice and fruit, the two IMF agents felt much better.
Sitting on the bed, Cinnamon watched his movements with the observance of a mesmerized tennis game attendee. She appeared relaxed on the outside, but on the inside she was privately praying for a lit cigarette. Rollin paced uneasily back and forth in the small cell, agitated by the lack of attention Traise directed at his most valuable captives.
"What's he trying to do, bore us to death?" Hand mumbled.
"Are all actors so impatient?" Cinnamon asked lowly, with a cool yet amused stare.
"I'm sorry." He half laughed and sat next to her, "This is no picnic for you, is it?'
"Hardly. But don't feel bad, Rollin. The only reason I'm not climbing the walls with you is because I passed that point when exhaustion and terror set in." She smiled but the weariness was still intact. "I should have listened to my mother and became a doctor."
"We'll be out soon." Rollin assured. He sat next to her on the bed and placed his hands on hers, "Tell me about her ... your mother. I want to know about you and your family. What is Cinnamon Carter's background?"
She laughed, "Rollin, that would bore you silly."
"Oh, I doubt it."
"Okay." She spoke with reluctance, "I was born in Casper, Wyoming, the third daughter of five. My father died soon after I was born and my mother remarried. My stepfather, Ted, was a nice man. You know, capable and dependable - but I could never accept him, and he knew it. All the rest adored him, but I was the outsider. HIS two children Lisa and Betty, by mother, always resented me because of my feelings." She shook herself. "But mother was different. She could always read me - no matter HOW hard I tried to hide. And she was never spiteful. I loved my mother and probably felt more pain than any of the others when she finally passed away. That happened while I was in college. I was also modeling at the time and they called me right in the middle of an assignment in New York ..." Cinnamon took a slight gulp of air, "But even then I refused to show any outer emotion. Everyone probably thought me the coldest bitch ever to roam the Earth but - for some reason - I was incapable of crying."
Rollin stared at her, admiring her will and strength yet also feeling pity. She made a great spy because she could keep her emotions at bay. That was both good and bad.
"You know, I haven't seen any of my sisters or stepfather since the day of the funeral. We've written letters, but I've never had an open invitation to come visit. I think everyone feels safe this way. I do."
Hand wanted to change the mood but didn't quite know how to go about it. "Your mother sounds like she was a wonderful woman. I wish I had known her. My parents were both actors and never had enough time to look after their kids. We had a live in baby-sitter who acted as both parents. Diane was a gem. She acted as my unofficial promoter when I first broke into show business."
"How odd."
"What?"
"That you decided to become an actor even after your parents, as performers, ignored you."
"I guess I wanted to prove a man could be a loyal husband, loving father and a fine actor, all at once. I was engaged to be married when I turned twenty-one, but the girl changed her mind at the last minute. She didn't want to be known as 'Rollin Hand's wife' - should I ever hit it big. I can't say I blamed her, but my ego was shot for years. I might have turned into a basket case if Diane hadn't been around to pick up the pieces and tell me I wasn't useless. It was her idea that I should get involved in government work. I hadn't even considered it until she brought the brochures and encouraged me." He looked down at her interested expression, "What about you? Why did you become and agent?"
"I was making a mint a week, but wasn't happy as a model. It's that old story of wanting something more exciting. The only things you need to be a model are long legs, slim neck, and high cheekbones. I knew I was capable of more."
"So here we are." Rollin laughed, ironically. He glanced around the dull, dusty cell. "Two brilliant, highly trained government agents - bored to tears."
He had made her laugh. Cinnamon was giggling gently and it made Rollin's feel much better. She was so radiant during moments like this! The softness that had been missing in her green eyes earlier was now back.
In turn, Cinnamon noticed how Rollin had become even more handsome under his make-up. His grin was bright and radiated warmth she'd never seen before. He was sincerely enjoying this brief moment together.
The couple stared at one another, the smiles now faded as the reality of their predicament dawned. It wouldn't due to become close now. They still had a mission to finish, and if things didn't go as planned, they might not live to continue an on going relationship.
It was crazy to even consider it.
"Did Dan ever tell you how we're supposed to swing this plot?" Cinnamon spoke with just the right amount of artlessness. The disposition of the earlier moment had been dispensed with the effectiveness of the smoothest diplomat.
It was unavoidable but Cinnamon was left out in the cold before all the facts were gathered on her end of the mission. They hadn't meant to keep it a secret, but only one night was available to prepare the trio's plan. The necessary adjustments and details unfortunately were not completed before she had to make her appearance in front of the bookstore. Miss Carter could only hope and pray Dan and Rollin would pull threads then sew matters up before her situation became too dangerous.
Rollin looked at her for awhile but said nothing. That did little to encourage her spirits. Hands squeezed the woman's fingers, gently.
They heard the door latch click open.
"I trust you are both very comfortable." The statement came from Cinnamon's interrogator, Baca. He stood in the doorway. Leaning comfortably against its frame. "I need to speak with you again, Miss Cro," He was visibly pleased when he saw her back straighten. "I've been given permission to intensify your questioning." His smile was evil. The young officer gazed at her with an open look of desire.
"Anna." Rollin's knew what would happen to her next and he was inwardly frantic.
"Of course, all this would be so unnecessary, if you would only tell us what we want to know. He saw nothing but controlled fear in those large, wide set eyes. For him, it seemed to heighten her attractiveness. The interrogator enjoyed seeing tough women suffer.
"You can't," Rollin shouted. His tone was thick with threat as he stood and held the woman behind him. Hand not only felt fear on Cinnamon's behalf, but also an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. If this brute harmed her in the way expected, Rollin knew she would never again be able to look him straight in the face. And, as much as he cared for her, Rollin could not be certain he would view her again without a crushing urge to ply the woman with pity.
Cinnamon would absolutely hate him or anyone else for that.
Miss Carter could feel spasms of reality tingle throughout her entire body. She would be a fool for not expecting the possibility of sexual abuse - there was always a threat in nearly every job she undertook - but until now she had been successful in avoiding the probability.
"Come, Dear." Baca said, lifting a hand and moved forward. Cordova would not move and continued to hold her behind him. "You had better retreat," the interrogator said, reaching for her around him.
Rollin did not take a step in either direction.
Annoyed, Baca said: "Did you think your beating last night bad? I promise, if you interfere further ... you will surely suffer this evening." He paused and looked at the glassy eyed woman behind the Polarian, "And, so will she."
This caused a momentary collapse in Hand's stiff expression. Then, he grew taut again as an idea sprang into his head. "If you give me your word that you'll leave her be, I'll tell you everything I know."
"Miguel, no!" Cinnamon squealed in protest. The trepidation buried deep within her suddenly leaped to the surface in a wild tide of emotion. What was he going to get himself into?
"It's all right." Rollin turned around and held her at arms length, "It's the best way. Trust me."
Had she not asked the same from the real Miguel Cordova? Cinnamon was now unable to conquer an overwhelming urge. In an abandonment of feeling, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed Rollin passionately on the lips. It was as much a surprise to her as to him. The action was unnecessary, unprovoked and unwise ... but Rollin found himself responding eagerly.
The couple had to practically be torn apart by the interrogator and another guard.
"Take him to see Traise," Baca ordered the sergeant holding Rollin. "I'll join you soon." The interrogator was now gripping Cinnamon's arm and wasn't unaware of the soft, feminine flesh beneath his hands.
Rollin noted Baca's badly disguised gawk of lust and had to quell a feeling that ordered him to strike out. Miss Carter was afraid, though she wouldn't show it. It was obvious that Baca's word wouldn't be enough. Hand was roughly moved from the room, but not before he shouted, "I want her with me!"
Baca was angry, "No!"
"Yes! I won't say a word unless she is with me."
An irritated sigh escaped the lieutenant, but he relented. "Very well."
[]
"All right. Mr. Cordova. You may begin the confession." Traise sat the small tape recorder in front of Rollin, and looked smugly at his victim.
Admiring his own strategy, the Captain mentally patted himself on the back. Locking Cordova and the woman in a cell together had been a stroke of genius. How else could they realize the futility of their situation? Anyone less competent would have imprisoned the peasants separately, in hope that longing would drive them to distraction. But, HIS way was much quicker and less complicated. Mere research pointed to Miguel's faults, mainly being a too sensitive man where others - especially females - were concerned. His protective nature was especially acute with his own woman in jeopardy. No Polarian gentleman with such high standards and moral conviction in his background could just sit and watch the woman he loves become the subject of degrading sin. Traise was only angry that he hadn't thought of this angle when Anna Cro first arrived. Whether it meant betraying his country or not, Cordova would have to relent. Traise had counted on this, and it was obviously paying off.
The Captain glanced at Baca, standing next to Cinnamon. The Nationalist President would learn of his performance during this emergency and probably reward the lieutenant handsomely. Traise didn't think that fair. The interrogator was a torture happy fool who wanted Cordova murdered before anything useful could be done with the man. But Baca would learn. Traise had his sights set on a higher position. When he became the new Commandant of the 12th District, the young fool would be taught a sense of logic and flair when dealing with prisoners.
Impatient, Baca barked, "We are waiting, Cordova. Tell us of the Libertance. What method was used to bring your people to power? What might have happened if you had lost...? A revolt?"
Rollin said nothing for a count of thirty. He glanced at Cinnamon as worry clearly registered on her face. He had nothing to say. While walking to the office, Rollin thought over a few convincing lies, but none that would satisfy Captain Traise's vivid imagination. Rollin hated the blankness fusing inside and could only clearly conceive Cinnamon's fate. He had bought her a few extra hours, perhaps, but in the end the interrogator would be granted his wish.
The Captain stared gravely at the blond Polarian. Why was he hesitating?
Without warning, the door to Traise's office was flung open and the stocky, good looking form of Daniel Briggs stood at the door frame. He pulled a yellow and green badge from his pocket and grazed it past the Captain's eyes. "I am Ivan Tolsovich," he announced with a thick accent. Dan looked briefly at Cinnamon and Rollin and was privately pleased to see them together, unhurt. "I have orders to take these outlaws to the 18th District police station."
"What?" Traise looked appalled. "By whose orders?"
"The Commandant of District twelve, of course. There has been an unforeseen turn of events. I now have the authority to relieve you of these criminals."
The Captain looked confused for a moment, then stood firm.
"What is the meaning of this? "Who are you?"
Briggs sighed. "You are wasting time, Captain ... I am the Commandant's secret aid. I was sent here to spy on Miguel Cordova's brother, Evan. Surely you have been informed."
Rollin looked up, surprised. But he said nothing.
Dan continued. "Captain, I can tell you nothing. The Commandant will explain this whole situation when you see him..." He moved toward Rollin but suddenly froze. Baca had a pistol aimed at his head.
"You better explain what you know." Traise leaned back against a wall and folded his arms.
Dan's voice was lowered in an urgent whisper. "You will force me to divulge information only the Commandant has a right to speak on."
"And if you do not start explaining, you will be shot through the head," the Captain retorted.
"All right, but I want it known now that I will deny any information if we are caught behind enemy lines." Briggs ignored the soldier's confusion and started his tale. "We discovered Evan Cordova over an hour ago - DEAD. A terrorist band of Liberty swine apparently discovered his visit to this establishment, and murdered him. They thought him a traitor to their cause."
"Wait a minute!" Baca cut in, looking from Traise to the informer. "Are you saying the Libertance know we are holding these two here?" He waved his hands in Rollin and Cinnamon's direction.
"Of course, you idiot!"
Traise could feel sweat break out on his brow, "I'll call the Commandant to confirm your story and get back ups if necessary." He reached for the telephone receiver.
Again Briggs sighed in disgruntled frustration. "Don't be a fool. The reason I am taking these prisoners to District Eighteen is because our Commandant is no longer in the 12th District! The Libertance rebels have already moved in!"
"Impossible!" Traise shouted, "We have weeks before ..."
"They stormed the 12th, l5th and 25th Districts, Captain." Dan vibrated back. "The Liberty Party demanded immediate control. Our government refused, so gorilla troops were sent out from their side. All this happened in a matter of hours…"
"If what you say is true WHY was I not informed?"
"No time. By the second we realized what was happening in the l2th, the area was completely surrounded. The Commandant had no choice but to order his men to withdraw. Some were taken prisoner but others, as I've said, moved on to District Eighteen."
"What about the President?" Baca asked, nervously.
"He has been replaced as well. The Liberty leader, Nazinski, has ordered Polaria's other districts to give up."
The Captain shook his head in disbelief. "No, you are lying," he said, calmly. He stood straight and motioned Baca to keep the gun trained. Traise picked up his telephone's receiver and began to dial. "I will prove you are a fraud," he said.
The dial tone spanned off and rang twice.
"Twelfth District, Liberty Headquarters," a strong male voice answered.
The Captain dropped the earpiece and looked at Dan Briggs in horror.
[]
With a small smile of satisfaction, Miguel hung up the phone and climbed lazily down the telephone pole.
That American, Daniel Briggs was talented. He wondered if anyone else would have predicted Traise's actions with such crystal clarity.
"Oh, how I would love to see the Captain's expression at this moment," Cordova wished aloud.
[]
To be continued ... CONCLUSION COMING SOON.
