Page 79 of Vistaria Has Fallen

“¡Alejate de la puerta!” the soldier at the end of the row shouted.

Calli looked around. The men surrounding her sidled backward, easing away from the gate as ordered. As soon as they backed up six feet, one of the soldiers moved forward and slid the bar out of the gate, his machine gun still at the ready. He cracked the gate open teninches.

“Come,” he said, waving to her. “Come.”

She picked up her hat, put it back on and slipped through the opening. The gate slammed shut behind her and the bar dropped into place. The soldier pulled her forward, between the other four guards. He hurried her over to the gatehouse, up the steps, and inside the small glass-enclosed building. There was a counter there and an officer standingat the window, watching the drama at the gate.

He turned as the soldier hustled her in. The soldier rattled off a stream of explanation while the officer studied her.

The soldier tugged at her backpack. “Show,” he said.

She pulled off the back pack, unzipped it and spread it wide so they could see inside. Then, obeying an instinct, she stepped back from the pack, giving them free access.

The officer and the soldier dug through the pack. The officer flipped through her passport and studied her, comparing her to the photo. She took off the hat again, giving him a better view. He spoke to the soldier, a quick word. The soldier saluted and ran back to the gate, where he took up his position once more. The other four had gone back to parade rest.

The officer examined her. “You havereached a superior officer, as you requested, Miss Munro. What do you want?”

“You speak English. Great. Please, you must tell me. Is Nicolás Escobedo in the city? I must speak to him.”

“Why must you speak to this person?”

“I know—you have no idea who I am. I mean, you may think you know—”

“I know exactly who you are, Miss Munro. After yesterday’s papers, most of Vistaria knows who you are.”

She winced. “If that is what it takes to convince you I have no evil purpose here, fine, I’ll own it. That was me. Normally I wouldn’t come within a hundred miles of Nick after this, only it’s about one of his...friends, an officer, Duardo Peña, in Pascuallita, well, not him exactly—”

He held up a hand, signaling she should stop.

She fell silent.

“What did you call him?”

“Duardo?”

“That isnot a Vistarian name,” he said.

“Eduardo,” she amended. “He hates that, though. No one ever calls him that.”

“Except his superior officers,” the man replied. “Come here,” he demanded, beckoning with his finger.

She stepped closer to the counter. He leaned over and pushed aside her jacket with one hand, peering inside it. Then he smiled and picked up the telephone on the counter, dialed andspoke into it. After a moment he put the phone down. “Someone will be with you in a moment. They will take you to another place. A more secure place.Comprende?”

“Yes,” she said. She looked inside her jacket, puzzled, and saw the St.Christopher’s medallion lying against her tee-shirt. She looked up at him.

“You know Nicolás, don’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Munro. He and I went through officer trainingtogether.”

“Gracias,” she told him.

“De nada.”He pointed to the door. “Your escort.”

Another soldier, this one without a machine gun, held open the door for her. She zipped up her backpack and followed him across the tarmac toward the legislative building. He took her around the back, slipping under the covered walkway and into the drive-through tunnel at the base of the building. The wallson either side of the tunnel were pierced by double doors and light spilled from them.

The soldier opened the right-hand door and waved her inside. Stairs ran up and down from the small foyer. He indicated she should go down the flight on the right. The corridor at the bottom was lined with anonymous doors featuring frosted glass panes. The floor was a sea of dark green linoleum, the walls asomber gray. The basement felt like every government building Calli had ever visited. That reassured her.

The soldier opened a door to a room, showing her a wooden table surrounded by four folding chairs. The wall on the right had a large expanse of mirrored window. The one-way kind, she assumed. There was no other furniture and the floor was the same dark green linoleum. The room was as soullessas a tax interview office. Almost cheerful, Calli sat on the table and dropped her backpack beside her. It was the first time she had felt safe for hours.