The car was unmarked and the tall, too tall, men in the green uniforms of the Special Forces seemed rather out of place sitting in it rather than in some more military vehicle. But that was how it was in Cunofrio; Gordon was well aware of the Special Forces, picked henchmen of Cunofrio's dictator General Serrano, selected from among families which had been loyal for generations to the regime (for good reason), these men functioned as judge, jury and executioner in the service of the State, and once they had you in their hands, there was little anyone could do. Money sometimes could work, sometimes a word spoken to the right officer, but even that wasn't a guarantee. Gordon may well be dead before nightfall, and if a ransom was paid after that, it would be money sent after nothing.

His hands shackled to a bar affixed inside; this car was used to ferry prisoners so frequently that they had installed this, he was quite helpless even if he had felt up to tackling his captors. Gordon looked out the windows, he knew well the prison where the Special Forces took their prisoners, the Iron Castle. It was to the north of the city a little ways....

But they were headed west. They were going into the poorer section of Cunofrio, the places where Gordon hadn't dared travel when he lived with his father on the sunny, prosperous eastern side, its air cleansed by the on-shore flow from the Caribbean. As you moved away from the ocean, as the water's proximity lessened, you came into this place, the houses grew smaller and less kept, the streets grew smaller and dirtier, the population became poorer, more crowded, more desperate.

"Where are you taking me?" Gordon asked the captor on his right. He spoke fluent Spanish, having lived in Cunofrio for some years. The Special Forces never wore their rank, but this man seemed to be in control of things, he had given the orders to the others, the man on Gordon's left and the man who drove the car. Gordon thought of him as the leader of the little group which had taken him.

"That is not your concern at this time." the man said loftily. "Be glad only that we are not taking you to the Castillo Del Hierro."

Gordon shivered at that name, the Iron Castle. "If you aren't taking me in for interrogation, then I don't understand what you want from me."

"We will let you know what we want from you." the man said.

At that, Gordon shut up and waited if his state of nervous agitation could be called waiting. He did nothing, at any rate.

Where the fuck was Cecille?

A roar of sound and a flash of black as a motorcycle as it jumped over an embankment to their left and barreled straight at them. And on it was... "Cecille!"

For it was he. Somehow, Cecille had found Gordon and was in active pursuit.

The reaction of the soldiers was what you'd expect when three armed men are confronted by a single unarmed man on a motorcycle...they opened the windows and started firing. The windshield in front of Cecille on the motorcycle was made of some sturdy, thick clear plastic which withstood the barrage for at least a time, puckered with the shots from the fusillade, and then Cecille was upon them.

And tossed a smoke bomb into their car! Smoke filled and billowed about the enclosed space, and the men with Gordon jumped out. They left the doors open and most of the smoke (but not all) crawled out like some gray amoeba onto the pavement. Gordon could see again, if through a heavy haze of tears. But so could the Special Forces men!

Cecille was waiting for them with a large stick he had picked up somewhere. It seemed to Gordon bemused and tear-filled eyes as if Cecille was pulling weapons out of nowhere. Cecille knocked one of the men, the driver, unconscious with a well-placed blow, and then turned to face the second.

The third man stepped up to Cecille on his left side, and Cecille now was making wide, sweeping swings of the stick...actually a small, square beam of some kind. Somehow he kept the men away from him and even blocked a couple of shots with this beam and then.... "Oh!" he called out in pain.

And then some citizen struck Cecille from behind! Stunned, Cecille was then swarmed over by the other poor people of Cunofrio.

Gordon squirmed and shouted, "Cecille! Cecille!"

He could do nothing else. The soldiers moved in among the citizenry and then came to the car a little later, bearing Cecille between them. Cecille was thrown into the seat beside Gordon and another set of shackles put on his hands. Gordon now could and did clasp Cecille's hands in his own. "Nice try." he told the semi-conscious man.

The second soldier took the wheel, the former driver left lying on the roadside, and with Gordon and with only the leader of the Special Forces in the back seat now, they took off once more.

"Cecille!" Gordon called. "Cecille!"

Cecille roused groggily and looked up at Gordon, managed a smile. "Did I win?" he asked.

Gordon gave a brief, choked version of a laugh. "We should be so lucky."

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