Chapter 4: Interrogation then Execution

Chapter 4: Interrogation then Execution

For his part, Prince Logan liked what he saw. This woman was a natural redhead, to just by the shade of pubic hair almost visible through her white panties. A fine body with large breasts, slender waist and hips flared just enough. Her legs seemed long and of fine shape. She seemed to be athletic and in very good condition; what he had heard referred to as a “hard body” when he was in America. The face was a pleasure to gaze upon, being perhaps Irish but certainly mixed with something else. Her eyes were a rich green and looked as if they might sparkle when she laughed. Of course, she was not laughing right then. She had been caught sneaking onto his island with the obvious intent of stealing some of the diamonds for which New Caladon was so famous. Others had tried the same tactic before and died for their efforts.

But there was something interesting to him about this woman. Even sitting handcuffed to a chair wearing only her under garments in the presence of strangers, and facing possible death or worse, she held her head up and, while not defiant, was not quivering in fear. He felt there was strength within this woman that ran deep, something he was not used to in the submissive wenches brought him to become the palace slavegirls. Perhaps this one would be more interesting to train...

“You have entered New Caladon territory illegally with intent to steal valuable property,” Colonel Ramsey was saying. “Under our laws, this is punishable by death.”

The final statement hung in the air after its utterance, its meaning clear and frightening. Tasha felt the icy hand of death upon her shoulder. But she said nothing.

“The mixture of weapons indicates that you two did not come from any government agency. Nor it is likely that you were recruited and equipped by some rival company. I would say that you two are mercenaries, freelancers, trying to sneak in and get out with packs filled with diamonds.”

Colonel Ramsey paused as if expecting a reply. Tasha gave him none. What was there to say? Even if she denied the charges, they would not care. Besides, those accusations were all true. But there was one thing she had to ask.

“What happened to the man with me?” She tried not to let her voice quiver, although it was hard.

“Your partner made the mistake of firing at my security forces. He will not make that mistake again.”

The presence of his weapons confirmed the colonel’s words. Tasha lowered her head but refused to cry.

“Would you please tell me your name?” asked the Colonel. “For the records, of course. Neither of you carried identification.”

“My name is Natasha O’Connell,” she said wearily. Suddenly she was on the other side of the adrenaline surge and feeling tired. Very tired and almost shaking.

“Fine. And your partner?”

She looked up, paused, and then shrugged. “Roger Penrose.”

The Colonel wrote down both names on a small piece of paper, then folded it and placed it his pocket. He began replacing the weapons into the boxes. “The formality of a trial is not necessary,” he said. “You are guilty. You will be taken from this room and shot. Then your body will be dumped into the ocean for the fish to feed on.”

If he was trying to shock the woman, there was no visible effect. She looked depressed but still under control.

“Guard, unlock the cuffs between her wrists and ankles.” The guard obeyed, getting down on his knees to perform the requested operation. It felt good to bring her legs forward, the steel no longer cutting into her flesh. But the guard made no move towards the handcuffs still upon her wrists and ankles.

From the second box, the Colonel took a short length of chain. He looped one end around her neck then attached a padlock to that, fixing the loop snugly around her slender throat. He handed the chain to the guard and walked out, obviously expecting the guard and prisoner to follow.

In response to tugging of the chain, Tasha rose to her feet, and then almost fell forward onto her face as she tried to take a step. The handcuffs on her ankles allowed nothing but short, snubbed steps and a shuffling walk.

The passage down the corridor and out a door was not long but seemed to take forever to Tasha. She considered refusing to move. They were, after all, planning to kill her. They could just do it in that windowless room as well as outside. But something inside her would not let her finish the last few minutes of her life as a coward. She shuffled forward as best she could, snubbing her ankles against the steel and frantically searching for something she could say that would stay this execution. The wavy haired man followed behind her, and she could feel his eyes upon her semi-naked backside. Which was about all she could think to offer these men: her body. But they could take that if they wanted to, then kill her anyway. What was a little sexual assault when they planned to fill her full of bullet holes anyway?

The sunlight seemed bright after the small room. Tasha blinked and stumbled as she encountered the threshold of the doorway. The chain about her neck was the only thing that kept her from falling, and its jerk was rather painful. She righted herself and looked around. They were in a small courtyard, a thirty by thirty foot square of bare earth with gray, bleak cement walls all around, save for the door through which she had just come. And there were three posts next to the far wall. Her keeper jerked on the chain and she was shuffling across the dirt towards one of the wooden posts. As she neared it, she saw an iron ring set high on it, just above head height, and the wall behind it. The concrete was pockmarked with small holes. Just the kind of holes that a bullet would make. And there were ugly dark stains on the wood of the post. It did not take her long to figure that this was the place of executions for the island nation of New Caladon.

She came to the post and halted. The guard, grinning like a schoolboy, stood on his tiptoes and threaded the chain through the ring. Then he locked it with a small padlock. He left her standing there, chained up like an animal and fighting to keep down the fear stirring around in her belly.

A squad of three soldiers marched in, each carrying a rifle. They cast glances in the direction of the scantly clad woman chained to the pole, one licking his lips. This was a fine woman. They were provided with barracks whores, true, but this woman was several notches above the local girls who made a little money entertaining the security men.

Still, their discipline forced them to obey, and they lined themselves up along the wall opposite the post. A young lieutenant was commanding them, and he was waving a saber around as he gave his orders. The Colonel was standing by the door, perhaps to assure himself that all went as planned, and the dark haired man casually leaned against the wall with a faint, amused smile on his face. Tasha was breathing hard in the bright sunlight, her breasts rising and falling in a nice display for the marksmen.

The tall man pushed himself away from the wall and casually strolled her direction. When he was close enough to talk quietly, he rested on hand on the wooden pole and looked over to the armed men in uniform. “You knew this was a possible outcome of your little adventure, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tasha replied with a dry mouth.

“Yet you came. Did you really expect to get away with it? Hundreds have tried. The fish in our waters are very well fed. Especially the sharks.”

Tasha looked to him but could not read the emotion on his face. Amusement? Was he enjoying her fear? And who was he? “Yes, I did expect to get away with it.” She swallowed hard. “No one expects to die.”

“True. That only happens to the other man.” He pursed his lips. “This Roger, he was your lover?”

Tasha’s head jerked around in anger. Then a grimace of pain crossed over her lovely face. “Yes,” she replied weakly. “Not that it is any of your business, but he was a fine man.”

“He’s a dead man now. What good did it do him to be fine?”

“He’s... was a very good man.”

“Was he good in bed?”

“That is none of your business,” she snapped, a bit on edge.

“True. None of my business. Tell me, have you ever been before a firing squad before?”

“You mock me. Few who have live to tell of it, no?” Her sarcasm came through.

“True. Do you have any last requests? A cigarette perhaps?”

“I don’t smoke. Yes, I do have a request...”

“And it is?”

“When they shoot... would you stand in front of me?”

The man laughed, a genuine laugh of real amusement. “You are quite a girl.” He glanced back to the waiting uniforms. “Tell me, if you could escape but it would require you to kill me, would you do it?”

“In a second.”

“An honest answer,” he said evenly. “Well, we’re keeping the security forces waiting. I think it’s almost lunchtime and I’m sure they want to get to the mess hall. It’s been nice talking to you.”

The look in her eyes was one of desperation as he watched her face for a second before turning away. He walked to the door to lean casually against the wall next to the Colonel. Tasha felt her mouth go totally dry. There should be something she could say, something she could promise to keep this from happening. It just was not supposed to end this way. It was not fair!

The Lieutenant barked a command, and the trio brought their Colt Commandos up to their shoulders and took aim. Knowing it was useless, but praying for a miracle anyway, Tasha backed against the post and braced herself against the hard wood. The wild thought raced through her mind to hide behind the post, but she was sure that they would only drag her around it and bind her to the front of it. Might as well go out with some pride. She lifted her chin and faced the men who were about to kill her.

At the command of “Fire!” three rifles spat fire, the sound of automatic weapon fire loud within the courtyard as each solider emptied the full twenty round clip.

Tasha’s body jerked against the pole.

It took a second before she realized that she was still standing, and the expected impact of 5.56mm bullets slamming into her body had not come. She had heard the crack of the bullets passing by her head. And the chunk! as they tore pieces of concrete out of the wall behind her. And it was another five or six seconds before she realized that she was not breathing, and she sucked in air.

The Lieutenant barked orders and the men brought their weapons down to the ready, turned and marched out. All of them were grinning, a flagrant violation of military discipline in the ranks. The Colonel glared at them.

When they were gone, presumably to the mess hall, Colonel Ramsey turned to Prince Logan. “I will be going now,” he said formally and stiffly, his disapproval of the Prince’s alteration to his execution of a criminal readily apparent on his face. “Will there be anything else you would like?”

“Ramsey, don’t be such a stiff neck. Did you see her face when the bullets went past her head? I think we’re lucky she didn’t shit in her panties!”

“Yes, Sir, if you say so.”

“I think that I’ll have some fun training her to be an obedient slavegirl,” Logan mused.

“Just be sure when you’ve got her in your bed that she doesn’t take your shaving razor from the bathroom and slit your throat during the night.”

“Don’t worry. I know how to handle a slavegirl, especially new ones. I’ll keep her well restrained at all times. She’s quite a woman. I won’t turn my back on her, especially when there’s a knife around.”

Standing chained to the pole in the bright sunlight of an otherwise pleasant New Caladon morning, Tasha sucked in air and tried to calm her pounding heart. When she was calm enough to collect her thoughts, she saw the Colonel saluting the tall man and leaving. She knew that it was this man who was responsible for her still being alive. He was someone important on this island. Apparently it was he who told the uniforms to miss. But what did he have in store for her? Instead of a quick death before a firing squad, that was?