QuestionsAndAnswersThe cell was spotless, lined with white tile. Nevertheless an odor of sweat and old blood seemed to linger in the air like a malevolent ghost, telling the story of the decades of use the tiny room had seen. The only light came from the hallway, through a small, heavily reinforced window in the gleaming metal door. The door swung wide. A hand-held lantern was thrust inside the cell, and one could then see the occupant. Decuma felt no remorse or pity for the man huddled there. He deserved this treatment if not worse. Just the sight of him made Decuma's stomach clench and his hatred burn. It took all of his strength not to run him through. As pleasant as that thought seemed, he knew it was the wrong move. This man, no this creature, might have information linking the two parties: the Carlysles and the one called Tonio. Or if not that, he might know Tonio and how to find him; two creatures of the gutter! He wouldn't be surprised if Tonio supplied Sanford with boys to torture. Behind Decuma, Giulian Anderon stood, flanked by two Anderon guards. He tilted his head toward the prisoner. "Bring him," he said in a dispassionate voice. The two tall men moved forward and hoisted the disheveled, unshaven man to his feet. Kyle Sanford's eyes darted from one of the young lords to the other, but he did not attempt to resist. "Interrogation room three," directed Giulian, then swung himself around to lead the way down the corridor. The interrogation room was nearly as featureless as the cells, though better lit. It contained a table and chair for the questioner, and another chair, facing it, for the prisoner. This second chair was fitted with brushed-steel manacles. The guards dumped Sanford into it and snapped the bonds around his wrists and ankles. Giulian turned to Decuma. "He's all yours, cousin." This was intentionally misleading, and both the young men knew it. When Giulian left the room he would go no farther than next door, where an unseen observer's post was set up; he would be able to hear and see the interrogation from there. But the two of them had calculated that Sanford would have more reason to fear Decuma's uncertain mercies. "Thank you. It will certainly be my pleasure," Decuma answered. Then he waited for Giulian and his guards to leave the room and close the door. "Should one of us stay and keep an eye on the prisoner, my lord?" asked one of the Anderon guards. Giulian shook his head. "Lord Decuma can take care of himself," he assured them. "Come with me." He swung around on his crutches and left the room, followed by the guards. The door closed with a thud. Decuma ignored Sanford as he crossed the room toward the interrogator's chair, but did not take a seat in it. Instead, he let a sadistic smile creep over his face, as he ceremoniously removed a cloth covering some instruments artfully displayed on the examiner's table. He picked up one and then another, testing their mechanisms, some with resounding snaps. He chuckled. Turning sharply he stared at Sanford for a long moment before whispering harshly, "Do you feel like playing today?" Sanford raised his head. He was slumped in his chair as if he had no energy left, and his expression was bleak. "You can't break me that way, boy. You should know that. Go ahead and have your fun. But I'll tell you one thing for free: all people in pain have the same face, after a while." Anger snapped in his eyes. "Boy? No, you made sure I was never a boy. And 'break you'? Why do you think you have any information that I want? I may just want to break a few things of yours...." Decuma hissed, taking three short strides from the table to Sanford. "Maybe... I just want to hear your screams for a change?" He held a wicked looking pliers in his hand and brought it up in front of Sanford's eyes. The grizzled man shut his eyes and bent his head, but showed no other reaction. "No." Decuma's face was inches from Sanford's, and he was sure the man could feel his breath on his skin. "No, then I would be no better than you and your... kind." He threw the pliers away from him and the sound of its hitting the wall reverberated in the small enclosed space. "And what kind are you... my lord?" The question seemed almost to be dragged from Sanford. He did not open his eyes. Decuma stood there, trembling with suppressed rage. "Don't! You don't get to ask the questions here!" He straightened, turning his back on Sanford, as much to shut out the view of the man as to prevent himself from striking him. The man was in shackles and looked, to be honest, as if he were resigned to his fate. Despite his vow of vengeance, he felt the stirring of pity for the man. Getting himself back under control he said in a icy voice, "You made a mistake, Sanford. Whoever it was you threw in with this last time, gave you bad advice. You should never have tried to use Renata." "We wouldn't have harmed the girl," Sanford muttered. "She wasn't important. The heir ... the heir was the one we wanted." "Who? The heir?" Decuma stiffened, his eyes narrowed. "So... you think Harry is going to become the Duke, do you? Or, is that what those you were working with believe? Not that it matters to me what you or those idiots believe. Looks like the succession is going to have to wait until all of this mess is cleaned up! They assassinated the Cardinal, after all... but you probably already knew that, didn't you?" Decuma watched him for any reaction, any tell whether that information was news to him. The revelation did not seem to surprise Sanford. He seemed more angry as he lifted his head and gave Decuma a look that was almost a glare. "If you wanted it -- if you still want it -- why did you interfere?" he demanded. Decuma stared at him silently a moment, as his worst fears were confirmed. "I do want it, but not like that. Never... like that." The anger in his eyes matched Sanford's. "Does Lagoran think so little of me, then, that he should stoop to something so... low? Does he think I cannot win this contest on my own merit?" He slammed his fist down on the table, upending it, sending the instruments of torture flying and clattering off the wall. Sanford started, in shock or alarm. Decuma turned his back on Sanford as he tried to regain his composure. What would have happened if he had not interfered? What had Harry been about to walk into? God help him! "I don't need that type of help! I don't want it. I'd rather ... I'd rather... die myself." "That could have happened too," rasped Sanford. He seemed to take no pleasure in the thought. Decuma snorted out a cynical laugh. "Yes, would have served Lagoran right if I had! All those years of preparation... wasted." He swung back around and gave Sanford a measured look. "You almost sounded like you cared.... Not that it matters. It didn't succeed, in either count. Lady Renata is safe, Lord Harry is alive and well, and I will live a while longer yet, it appears. But... another woman in my party vanished that evening. I have reason to believe she was abducted during or shortly after our rescue of the Lady Renata. Her name is Elissa Chatham," Again Decuma watched him for any reactions to the names. "And I believe her abductor to be 'Tonio'." Sanford blinked, then growled, "You won't see her again, then. Didn't know he was on the prowl." "You had better hope I see her again!" Decuma snapped, then looking at Sanford closely he asked, "Was he there? Tonio? Was he involved in Lady Renata's kidnapping?" "I told you we wouldn't have harmed the girl!" Sanford replied, almost too quickly, then muttered, "I don't say he mightn't have got wind of it. Might have been going to make an offer." Decuma felt a thrill of hope; there had been something. He was sure of it. "How? How would he have gotten word? You know something, Sanford. Tell me... tell me and I'll see that the Regent goes easy on you for your... part in all of this." "Tonio wasn't in it," Sanford reiterated. "Not that I know of. But those fellows were hiring muscle -- you saw! Somebody might've told him. And if he knew there was a girl in it--" The man halted, swallowed, then hurried on, "Or that Bailey might have tipped him off. I told Harmon he should have greased Bailey in the fist, just to keep him quiet." Decuma nodded, encouragingly. "Bailey? Who?" Decuma thought back over that night -- there had been other people watching them. Elissa had known at least one of them, her 'informant', and it would stand to reason that her informant had known who Elissa was. A chill went through him. What had Elissa said about the man? She had made him a promise, that he'd get to clean up after they'd left. Not a nice type, for certain. Would he have stooped so low as to inform on Elissa's whereabouts? Sanford swallowed again. "A small-time boss. I think we were on his turf." On his turf! Decuma had to work hard to hide the thrill that answer gave him. He'd find Bailey there... Bailey could tell them about Elissa... about Tonio! Decuma nodded once as if signalling it was all over. "I hope this 'Bailey' knows something about that evening. If you remember anything else...." Sanford shook his head, but offered, "If you go looking for Bailey, take money. That will loosen his tongue." Decuma nodded. "That... I have." Then as he was turning toward the door, he asked, as if he didn't really care what Sanford answered, "And how will I know Bailey when I find him?" Sanford snorted, and sounded for a moment like the fencing instructor he had once been. "The man looks like a thug. Big, hulking fellow ... no speed. Losing his hair, but you'd think he'd take the trouble to wash what he has left." Decuma filed it away. The description of the man sounded familiar somehow, but he couldn't recall who it might be. Perhaps it was someone from off-world of whom he was thinking. He almost smiled at the former fencing instructor's description of Bailey's lack of speed. No challenge then to someone with a sword. Decuma turned away again, and headed toward the door. As he was about to step through, Sanford's voice came to him in a husky half-whisper. "Well fought, boy ... but watch your back." |
