The Knights Victorious. William Speir

Prefect, the Tribunes, and the Senior Centurions of the Legion were meeting in the Legate’s mobile headquarters, talking with the leader of the rebels near Cottica by radio. “What do you mean you still don’t know where the army is?” the Legate demanded, irritated at the rebel officer’s incompetence.

      “They left several false trails when they withdrew from Cottica,” the rebel officer explained. “We have to check them one by one, which isn’t easy in the darkness. We’d be better off waiting until first light, but we’d lose several hours if we did that.”

      “I don’t understand how two thousand soldiers in trucks could just disappear,” the Legate fumed.

      “The area down here is mostly rainforest and hilly. It’s easy to get lost and hard to pick up a trail.”

      “What’s the most likely direction they took?”

      “I can’t believe that they’d go west, so I’d say they went north.”

      “Back toward the capital?”

      “Perhaps, or perhaps toward the river. Without working communications, I don’t think that they’d attempt to come back to the capital unless they knew what was going on first. If it were up to me, I’d find a good defensive position to wait until the situation became clearer.”

      “Are you checking all of the potential locations they might be using?”

      “No sir, we’re still following their trails to see if we can find which way they went.”

      The Legate shook his head. The rebels were committed to Francisco’s dream for the country, but they lacked any real strategic military competence. “If you were the army Commander, where would you go to hide?” he asked.

      The rebel leader hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’d head toward the Afobaka Dam on the Suriname River. There are hills around there that would provide a difficult position for us to attack, and I might try to seize the dam as either a bargaining chip or potentially to destroy it to disrupt our plans.”

      The Legate looked at the map and noted that the dam was on the northern end of a large reservoir. “Move the bulk of your forces in that direction. We’ll meet you there late tomorrow, and by then, perhaps you’ll have found where the army went.”

      “Yes, Legate. We’ll move out immediately.”

      The Legate motioned for an aide to cut the communications link. Turning to his senior officers, he shook his head. “We have to find the army and destroy it in the next couple of days. The new President’s announcing the overthrow of the government later tonight, and our partners in the Cayman Islands are supposed to start moving their bullion here tomorrow. They can’t bring that much money into the country unless the army has been neutralized!”

      “We’ll find them, Legate,” the Prefect said. “They can’t go far without support, and the country’s not that big.”

      “I know,” the Legate admitted, “but I want it over and done with. We have business of our own to start thinking about, not to mention the conquests of Guyana and French Guiana to be planned and executed early in the new year. Tell your Legionnaires to get some rest. We’ll head out at first light. Someone call my driver and tell him to take me back to the Presidential Palace. I have to be there for the President’s broadcast.”

      The officers of the Legion stood up and followed the Legate out of the mobile headquarter. As they returned to the site where the Cohorts were bivouacked for the evening, no one noticed two figures lying on the ground in the shadows next to the trailer where the officers had been meeting.

      Once the officers had moved away, one of the Knights whispered. “Did you hear that?”

      “Every word,” the other Knight replied.

      “Let’s get back and tell the Grand Master.”

      The other Knight nodded, and the two men started making their way back to the perimeter.

      5

      Saturday, November 9, Evening

      Paramaribo, The Presidential Palace

      The President heard a gunshot coming from a room down the hall. A moment later, he saw the guards drag another body past his office door. This was the third body he had seen being dragged away in the hour since his Cabinet Ministers were separated. All he could do was sit helplessly in the chair in the middle of his office and watch his loyal Ministers, dying to protect the country’s secrets, being dragged away one by one.

      They must be strong. This country is more important than any one of us. We can’t let it fall into the hands of these rebels. The country has suffered too much in the past because of ambitious men wanting power.

      A moment later, he heard someone screaming in terror. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before. He had heard men scream in pain or in grief, but this sounded like the scream of someone seeing the devil himself. “What are they doing?” he demanded of one of the guards.

      “Trying a different approach,” Francisco replied, entering the room with Carlos. “Our friends have developed a rather impressive drug to help discover what people don’t want to reveal. I thought that we’d try it before we ended up killing everyone in your government.”

      “A truth drug?” the President asked. He knew all about truth drugs, but most of them made the person act calm and relaxed, not terrified. “What truth drug makes someone scream like that?”

      “I don’t understand the chemistry involved,” Francisco replied, “but this drug causes terror. It’s the promise of the antidote that induces someone to tell us what we want to know. Otherwise, the subject will go mad from fear. Killing becomes an act of mercy at that point.”

      “Barbarian,” the President spat contemptuously at Francisco.

      “Perhaps, but it’s a means to an end. I control this country now, and I’m willing to let the transition of power be as smooth and painless as you are. But make no mistake, the transfer of power is going to happen no matter what you and your Ministers do – or don’t do, as the case may be. I’ll kill you all without a second thought if I don’t get what I want, and then I’ll get it anyway. It may take longer, but eventually I’ll get what I want.”

      Francisco walked over to the President’s desk and sat down behind it. He leaned back in the chair with a look of complete satisfaction on his face. Looking back at the President, he said, “Don’t you think that it would be better for the people to make this as quick and painless as possible? If we inadvertently break a treaty or give the wrong code in a communication to our neighbors, who will suffer if we’re invaded? Me? My troops? Perhaps, but not as much as the people will suffer. You can spare them that.”

      Francisco leaned forward in his chair and looked directly into the President’s eyes. “Do the right thing, Mr. President, and I’ll spare you and the Cabinet Ministers who are still alive. Give me the treaties, codes, and account numbers, or risk this country going up in flames.”

      The President stared at Francisco in contempt. “Spare the people? Spare my cabinet? Spare me? Who do you think you’re talking to? You’re lying, and you’re an idiot if you think that I believe a word you say. You don’t care about our people. You just want power, and your lust for power will keep you from letting anyone live who’ll become a threat to that power. Kill me; kill us all, but be a man and get it over with. Just spare me your lies. I’ve no interest in them or in you.”

      Francisco stood up suddenly, slamming the palms of his hands on the desk loudly. The sound echoed in the office for a moment as Francisco came around the desk and moved directly in front of the President. “As you wish,” he said angrily. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

      Once outside, Francisco smiled. He had expected this response from the President and was glad that he had guessed rightly. In fact, he already had most of the information he was looking for. While three of the Cabinet