Page 73 of Prisoner of War
“They told me your tastes run to these sorts of games.” Serrano’s gaze crawled over Minnie, taking in her exposed breasts, her belly. She wanted to grimace her distaste at such ogling.Challenge. Always challenge, she reminded herself. She lifted her chin to stare Serranoin the eye.
Zalaya swiveled the knife shut with a snap and stood up. He was taller than Serrano by seven inches. “They, whoever they are, were right about me,” he said dryly. “Why interrupt me when you can clearly see I am occupied?”
Serrano cleared his throat and dragged his gaze away from Minnie. Beads of sweat gathered at his temples. Her nudity, her position, the knife at her breast...theyhad disconcerted Serrano.
She kept her gaze locked on him, her face neutral, knowing the steadiness of her gaze would add to his discomfort.
“Should we go into your office?” Serrano suggested to Zalaya, waving toward her. He kept his gaze on Zalaya.
Zalaya shrugged. “Where we speak is immaterial.”
“How much does she understand?” Serrano asked, lowering his voice.
“That is also irrelevant.”
Serrano shifted on his feet, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second. He cleared his throat again and looked at the ground, refocusing. Then he confronted Zalaya. “I want to see your ruined eye,” he said.
Zalaya crossed his arms, looking as unruffled as usual. He smiled. “Do you hover around car accidents, too?”
Serrano’s face tightened. “I learned today what lies beneath that patchof yours. You said it was a shooting accident, yes?”
Zalaya studied Serrano, taking his time. “A rifle with a faulty barrel backfired,” he said at last, his voice and expression cool.
Serrano nodded. “That’s right. I want to see it.”
“Why would you need this confirmation? You have been satisfied with my work. I have proved my worth. Why does it matter what lies beneath the patch?”
Serrano’sface darkened with building anger. Minnie could see that he had forgotten she was in the room. “Indulge me, Colonel,” he said, his own voice soft. “Call it my little whim.”
Again, Zalaya took his time, assessing Serrano. He moved with great reluctance as he reached up to the leather patch covering his eye and lifted it. Minnie could not see beneath. It was his right eye, the side furthest fromher. It seemed that as he lifted the patch he turned his body slightly, so she could not possibly see anything.
Serrano looked for only a second or two then dropped his gaze and took a deep breath.
“Now you understand why I do not share this story with just anyone,” Zalaya said, putting the patch back into place and carefully readjusting the strap.
Serrano nodded and gave a small smile. “Forgiveme for doubting,” he said.
“There is nothing to forgive. These are suspicious times.”
“And you are a master at shepherding those suspicions. You were right, I should have let that be enough.” He glanced at Minnie and blinked again, recalling what he had interrupted. “I should...” He waved toward the door. “I should go.”
“Yes.”
Zalaya’s frank answer made Serrano blink again. “Yes, well...”He crossed to the door and opened it. “I wish you a good evening,” he said formally. With the slightest nod of his head, he stepped through and shut the door.
As soon as the door was shut, Zalaya spun to face the head of the bed and let his head hang, the one good eye shut tight. Minnie could see the tendons in his throat working, the chest rising and falling rapidly. He seemed to be trying tomarshal his reaction, to ride it out.
The camera. It saw everything and reported it all faithfully. Duardo was hiding his reaction from the camera.
She fought the natural impulse to look up at it and kept her gaze on him. He drew a deeper breath and lifted his head, looking at her. His face dropped back into the hard lines she had grown used to. Silently, he walked to the head of the bed andunsnarled the chains from around the post.
In English he spoke in a low voice, “Go clean yourself.” He rounded the bed, limping badly, dropped the knife to the bed and grabbed his cane. He reached over with his other hand to slide her wrist free from the bedpost. “Shower. Primp. I care not.” He paced to the door, leaning heavily on the cane.
Minnie massaged her wrists, studying the door he closedbehind him. Clearly, he did not intend to return soon and she had no objections to obeying his last order. A shower would help wash away the last few minutes and she had always done her best thinking in the bathroom.
She went to climb from the bed and her thigh rolled against something hard. She looked down and saw Zalaya’s folded knife jammed between her leg and the coverlet. He had failed totake it with him.
As if it were yesterday, she heard Duardo’s voice in her mind, the words he had spoken as he pressed a different knife into her hands—If you are in a place where I cannot help you, then you can be certain you are in the worst sort of trouble there is. Your only choice will be to use the knife or die.
