“Striking who, exactly?”
“Vargas, for starters. I almost killed him myself last night on Elysium. But Colonel Moreto is also a threat. She showed her hand at the Sky Arena, when she invoked the rights of the Black Order of Octopus Lords.”
“If I remove them, won’t that cause a war? Won’t the soldiers under your command all revolt?”
“Very possibly. I would not be surprised if their supporters came to avenge them.”
X uncrossed his arms. “So what would you have me do? Kill every Cazador soldier? Then what do we do when the defectors or these skinwalkers show up and start ripping people apart and stitching them into blankets?”
Rhino empathized. They both were warriors trying to be civilized in a barbaric world filled with monsters of every kind: mutant, metallic, and human.
“Tonight, I’m heading to the trading post to seek allies,” Rhino said. “Then, with your permission, I will slit Colonel Vargas’s throat in his sleep. No one will know who did it. I’ll start with him and then take out Colonel Moreto.”
“I don’t know,” X said. He stared ahead into the darkness, his knees flexing up and down, absorbing the shocks as the speedboat bounced over the swells. “Perhaps we should let the council weigh in when General Santiago, Magnolia, and Les return.”
“King Xavier, I don’t know how you did things in the sky, but on the Metal—Vanguard—Islands, we do not vote on matters such as this. And frankly, the odds of General Santiago returning are not good.”
X grabbed the gunwale railing to brace himself but didn’t respond.
“No one liked el Pulpo’s bastard,” Rhino said, “but if he still lives, he is a challenger to the throne. If he shows up, Colonel Vargas and others might join him. We must strike first.”
X let go of the railing and faced Rhino. “You do what you must, then, and let me deal with my people.”
A blue gash of lightning split the horizon. X gave a weary nod and stuck out his hand. Thunder boomed as they shook on it.
The bow lights finally picked out a shape rising above the waves. A lonely silo-shaped structure was the only oil rig outside the barrier of light. On the top of the flat roof, several rusted old-world helicopters perched like gargoyles, overlooking the tower walls.
Rhino eased the throttle back and steered toward the pier, where several spotlights raked back and forth, turning the dark surface bright as day.
“Why do you even have a prison?” X asked. “I thought you guys liked killing each other in the Sky Arena.”
“Some people are too crazy even for that,” Rhino said. “Besides, the people here contribute to the economy by making our bombs and bullets.”
“Has anyone ever escaped?”
“Once, a prisoner found a way to sneak explosive powder back to his cell. He saved up enough that he eventually blew his way out,” Rhino said. “He got pretty torn up in the razor wire but managed to get to the water.”
“And then?”
“No one saw him again. As you will see, this place was built to keep people inside.”
“Can’t wait.”
A Cazador soldier in full armor slung his assault rifle over his shoulder, grabbed the side of the boat, and pulled it in.
X jumped out first, and the soldier standing sentry pounded his chest armor. While he tethered the boat, a second guard walked down to meet the other two boats. The group followed the two guards toward a gate blocking off a secondary steel door twice Rhino’s height. The soldiers unlocked the first gate and pushed the double doors open. An alarm blared and red lights swirled over the metal decks.
Inside, a central guard tower rose all the way to the ceiling. Windows gave the guards inside a view of the prisoners on all ten levels.
Rhino looked up at the circular mezzanines bordering the barred cells of each level, patrolled by guards with cattle prods. The double doors sealed behind the visitors with a thud, and the Klaxons and red lights clicked off.
“This level is for the guards,” Rhino said. He pointed to one of two doors in the bulkhead. “That’s the mess and barracks.”
“Wonderful,” X said, “but I came to see the prisoner that’s going to tell me about the skinwalkers.”
“Yes, of course, we’ll head up in a moment,” Rhino said. He took off his helmet, breathing in the steamy air and waiting while his eyes adjusted to the dim lightning.
Now, with the sirens off, nothing blocked out the bedlam of screams and howls. The guards shocked some of the more unruly inmates away from the bars, but they wailed on in Spanish and other tongues.
“Everyone but Sloan and Rhino is to stay here,” X said to the militia guards. They fanned out on the open first floor, looking up at the prisoners, who gawked back at them from behind the bars.
Rhino ordered his team to stay behind, too. He followed the two main guards into a stairwell, and the sounds faded once the door closed behind them.
“The best workers are kept on these lower floors,” Rhino said. “They are the most valuable to us.”
“Let me guess, then,” X said. “We’re going to the top.”
“Indeed.”
As they went up, the shouting from the prisoners grew louder until Rhino could hear them over the pounding of boots on stair treads.
On the ninth floor, the guards opened the door to a rusty mezzanine. Rhino nodded at the guard behind the tower glass. A ten-foot gap and an electric mesh fence separated the tower windows from the mezzanine.
Another guard gave an electric zap to a prisoner who tried to get a view of Rhino’s team. The two guards accompanying the three visitors moved out toward their comrade at once, hitting the bars of the cells as the group passed. One man didn’t let go in time and took a jolt. He hit the floor, baring his teeth like a wild beast.
The guards continued around the circular walkway. Many of the prisoners inside the cells were missing fingers, and a few had even lost a limb to the ordnance and bullets they made.
Halfway around the platform, the group stopped in front of a cell. The prisoner gripped the bars, looking at them in turn with sad, dark eyes. Both guards shouted for him to get back, and when he didn’t, they used their prods. The electrical current didn’t have the same effect on this sinewy Cazador. He made a grunting noise but did not scream like the others.
“What the hell is wrong with this guy?” Sloan asked.
The prisoner finally stepped back and opened his mouth as if to yell, but all they heard was another flurry of grunting noises. It was then that Rhino knew, they had their man.
“Gael, estamos aquí para discutir a los cueros andantes,” Rhino said. To X, he said, “I told him we’re here to talk about the skinwalkers.”
“The guy’s got no tongue,” X observed. “How’s he going to tell us anything?”
Rhino reached into his pack and pulled out a map and a pencil. Then he pulled out an apple and an orange.
“Fresh fruit,” Rhino said. “Works like a charm.” He held them up to the bars for the prisoner to sniff. “Now, get back and do as I say, and I’ll give them to you.”
Gael hesitated, then shook his head.
“You don’t want this?” Rhino asked. He brought the apple up to his mouth but stopped shy of taking a bite.
Gael reached out for it, letting out another guttural noise.
“Back up, and I’ll give you this,” Rhino said.
Gael retreated to his bunk.
“Open it,” Rhino said.
“Sir, that goes against procedure,” one of the guards replied in English.
“Do it,” X said.
The guard looked at X, then fiddled with the key chain on his belt. He opened the door, and Rhino and X went in, leaving Sloan outside. The small space was furnished only with a bunk covered in straw, and a small desk and stool.