VANGUARD(67)

“So it does. In fact, you would do well to stay in the good graces of the entire coalition executive team, I believe.”

Jaros pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed. Although it is hard to imagine what else I could do to make them feel more welcome here in this new Soviet territory. We have already given them all our hospitality.”

Michael bit the inside of his lip to keep from screaming. “Perhaps I could offer a suggestion.”

“I thought you might,” the Commandant said dryly.

“I first recommend clemency for the refugees. The kind of clemency that ensures no further ‘accidents’ of any kind occur.”

“A wise suggestion. But many have already met with unfortunate mishaps. What of them?”

“What’s done is done, Commandant. It cannot be changed. Nor can it be denied as the coalition has documented many of those affected. That documentation is already in New York, I should add. Of course, those refugees will be carefully monitored in the coming weeks to ensure none of them meets with any further accidents.” Jaros’ eyes blazed at Michael’s warning.

He continued. “Perhaps offering specific aid – or permitting the coalition to do so – could repair some of the damage? Many international interests would be willing to assist. I suggest you seek Dr. Shah’s advice on this matter.” Translation: Anjali can recommend plastic surgeons around the world who could fix up the men you have mutilated.

“A unique goodwill gesture!” Jaros cried gleefully. Michael nearly broke a piece off the chair keeping his hands to himself. “Your advice is sound, Mr. Trent. Have you any more for me?”

Michael paused for effect, thinking. “The unfortunate young man back in the coalition camp…” He waited to see if Jaros would pick up the thread.

“The one Sophie used to develop the vaccine that stopped the pneumonia outbreak?” Jaros asked carelessly. “What of him? My guards tell me he is on the brink of death. Has he died?”

Michael looked at the Commandant, aware of the irony of the question. Was he dead? You might be after tonight, said a helpful voice in the back of his mind.

The person he’d been when he’d left for Orlisia last summer no longer existed. Most of him had been burned away by his horrifying time in the resistance. The remaining part had died as he had sat beside Sophie’s bed, watching her fight against the dysentery and realizing what an utter fool he had been for the last decade. Perhaps the terrible act he’d visited on her earlier that day was the final echo of a lifetime of pride and misplaced anger.

“Yes,” he said. “He is dead. It would be a significant gesture on your part, Commandant, to allow the coalition to return the body to the young man’s family, wherever they might reside. He did not appear to have any family with him in Parnaas. A fitting end for one who gave his life for the benefit of others. It also demonstrates your willingness to cooperate with Ms. Swenda’s wishes.” There was such a long pause that Michael thought he had lost him for a moment.

“Of the prisoner and his resting place, I care nothing,” said Jaros. “But for Sophie Swenda, I have much respect. If it pleases her to do this, I’ll allow it. I expect the two guards to return to me once the body is disposed of.”

“I believe these gestures will improve your standing with the coalition executive.” Michael glanced out the window as if in surprise. “It is dark. I should return to the camp in order to debrief the team.” He rose and, with an inward shudder, extended his hand to the man who had violated Orlisia’s citizens and mutilated the woman he loved. Jaros shook it, and they walked together to the door, followed by the guards.

“I hope we have the pleasure of future conversations, Mr. Trent.” Jaros turned to him as they reached the door. “For an Orlisian, you have a lively mind. You remind me much of Sophie herself.”

Michael gave his first genuine smile of the entire wretched interview. “That is one of the finest compliments anyone has ever paid me, Commandant. Good day, sir.”

He waited for the bullet to enter his back as he walked across the gravel. The coalition vehicles were gone, save for his SUV and one Jeep. He was shocked to see Will sitting in it, shivering against the encroaching night wind and smoking a cigarette.

“Tobacco is harmful to your health,” Michael grunted as he approached his vehicle.

“So my wife tells me. Which is why I only smoke when I’m hanging around outside refugee camps in the dead of winter waiting for people who have no business being alive to appear at the side of my car.”