The Lotus Eaters

Santa Clara Temporary Detention Facility, Dahlgren Naval Station, Balboa, Terra Nova

Major Rojas, older than most, which explained much, and fatter, which explained even more, was one of the policeman who had remained loyal to the oligarchs when Parilla had won election to the presidency. He looked at a piece of paper slipped into his hand by an underling manning the radio. He looked at it again, crossed himself, and said, aloud, "Pablo, this is wrong on so many levels I don't know where to begin."

"Sir?" asked the radio operator, Pablo, who had passed on the message.

"They want me to kill Parilla and Carrera in cold blood. I can't do that. Turn them over in answer to a legitimate extradition order? Sure. Just shoot them like dogs? No."

"Then what, sir?"

"Then . . . I'm going to try to cut us a deal."

"A deal?"

"Sure. Why not? He and Parilla are both men of their word. But . . . ummm . . . Pablo, do we still have the guards who worked the two over?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Go get a few men and arrest that crew. They might make an adequate sacrificial offering. And after that, see if you can raise someone at the Estado Major to let them know we have their chiefs. Meanwhile, I'm going to see about getting someone's word of honor."