Hawke

“Muchas gracias, Major,” a new voice said. “That will be all.” This new voice was velvety and musical. She didn’t know if that was good or simply terrifying.

She heard Diaz walk out and the door close behind her with a solid thump. Thick door. Soundproof. She felt dizzy and disoriented without Diaz’s hand on her shoulder. She had no choice but to stand and wait for whatever was coming.

“Bienvenido a Telaraсa,” the man finally said. “Be seated.”

“Where is the …” She reached out, feeling for any piece of furniture. “Where is the, uh, the—?”

“The chair? Ah. Three steps forward,” the man said in his soft voice. Almost singsong.

She took three tentative steps, felt soft carpet beneath her feet, and put both hands out in front of her. She felt the wooden back of a chair, pulled it toward her, and managed to sit down.

“You may remove your blindfold,” the man said.

Vicky did, blinking in the harsh light. There were two men in the room. There was one man in uniform sitting in a big leather chair behind a beautiful carved mahogany desk. Another man, tall and very handsome in a white suit, stood behind the desk, looking down at some photographs. Behind him on the wall was a large painting in a massive gilt frame. A museum-quality Goya. On the floor, a magnificent Aubusson carpet. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. This seemed an unlikely setting for all the midnight screaming.

Then the handsome man walked around from behind the desk and looked into her face, staring at her. “Good morning,” he said in beautiful English. “I am so happy to meet you. My name is Rodrigo.” He smiled down at her. His eyes, she was shocked to see, were completely colorless. And in the breast pocket of his elegant white suit was a pair of silver scissors.

Vicky thought her heart would burst as the word exploded in her mind, Scissorhands.

“What is your name?” the uniformed man seated at the desk asked, and she squinted her eyes, trying to focus on him instead of the other one. She decided not to even look at the eyeless one. If she did, she’d never get through this alive.

She took a deep breath and composed herself. Somehow, she was going to make it out of here alive. She stared at the man behind the desk. He’d asked her a question. What was it?

Though he was seated, she could see that her interrogator was tall and thin. He wore an elaborate uniform, covered with decorations. He was handsome in a way, almost pretty. Long black hair, carefully swept back from his high forehead. Tied in a ponytail. Long black lashes and deadly gray eyes.

Spidery hands folded quietly before him on the leather top of his desk.

“I asked you a question. Your name?”

“Sorry. My name is Dr. Victoria Sweet. What’s yours?”

“I am General Manso de Herreras. How are you being treated, Dr. Sweet?”

“Abominably.”

Scissorhands smiled at this and walked back behind the desk. He perched on the edge and resumed leafing through his glossy eight-by-ten photos. From time to time he would look up at her with those monstrous eyes and smile at her.

“Sorry. We try to be accommodating. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a pediatrician. I help children with neurological disorders. I also write books for children.”

“Ah, a fellow student of human emotions. I’ve no degree, of course, I’m a lifelong military man. Yes, but a politician as well, and so a keen observer of the psychological.”

“May I ask a question? Why am I here, General?”

“Ah. You would like to be the interrogator?”

“I’d like to know why I’m being held against my will.”

“You ask the simple ones first, Doctor. Very well. You’re here because you’re a pawn.”

“I’m a pawn?”

“Yes. The pawn resembles a queen perhaps, but she is still a little pawn. Does the little pawn play chess?”

Vicky sat silently for a moment, deciding how best to play this dangerous game. “Tell the truth, quickly,” Major Diaz had said. For no good reason at all, she decided to trust him.

“You’re holding me because you want to use me in some way. Probably to get to Alex Hawke,” Vicky said, staring him straight in the eye. “How do you intend to do that?”

“Very good! We can make this short, then, although I am thoroughly enjoying our conversation.”

“Short is good. That would include my stay here, General. When do I go free?”

“If you do exactly as I say, and the results are commensurate with your efforts, you will be released unharmed.”

“I have your word?”

“What you have, my beautiful seсorita, is no choice. Checkmate, you see?”

“I see. In that case, why don’t we get started?”

“Muy bueno.”

The man opened a desk drawer and placed a cassette recorder and thick newspaper on top of the desk.

“Please bring your chair closer to the desk. You’ll be more comfortable while you’re recording.”

She did as she was told and felt a wave of terror sweep over her. The photographs Scissorhands had been looking at weren’t from his family album. They were pictures of women with fingers, ears, and nipples missing.

Vicky stifled the scream that was rising in her throat and forced herself to take deep consecutive breaths. She hardly heard what the man was saying.

“I have a statement here that I wish you to read into this microphone. State your name first and address this message to Alex Hawke. The statement simply says that you are a political prisoner. You have been taken hostage by the Cuban guerrilla group known as Telaraсa. You may then use your own words. Plead your case to your lover. Tell him that your life depends entirely on how well your friend Hawke follows directions.”

“What directions?”

“It is of no consequence to you. I will speak when you are finished. I want this man Hawke to use all of his co

“That’s it?”

“Almost. Have you ever heard this Hawke mention a map? A treasure map, let us say?”

“No, never.”

“It is not the reason he has returned to the Exumas after all these years?”

“It’s a holiday, General. He likes to fish.”

“Ah, well. If your memory doesn’t improve, I’m sure you’ll have a chance to discuss it in detail with this gentleman on my right. Meanwhile, I will conclude the tape by saying that if there is any rescue attempt whatsoever you will be shot immediately. How does that sound?”

He handed her a copy of today’s Miami Herald. “You will then end this message by reading this front page headline and the date. So there will be no doubt on the other side. You understand?”

“Perfectly. Turn the thing on, please.”

General de Herreras flipped a switch on the recorder. “One more thing,” he said, pulling an envelope from inside his jacket and then sliding it across the desk toward her.

She opened the envelope and looked inside. It was the golden locket that Alex had given to her.

“This locket, it belongs to you?” he asked.

“It did,” Vicky replied. “Once upon a time.”