Chapter 35: Diogo

I stand in the deep shadows as the rebels begin arriving, filing through the bowels of the abandoned building they chose for their meeting. The rebel meetings move around, something my men and I have long been aware of. Though I'd given my people instruction to track the rebels and discover their whereabouts, meetings are rarely interrupted by an outside force. The residents of the slums are hesitant to speak, and I've never given the order to threaten them with harm until now.
With Taran's life and loyalty on the line, my hunt for Xavier Gunther has become a vicious game of cat and mouse leading to this moment. My men and I stormed through the sections of the city reserved for the poorer classes and illegals, banging on doors and terrifying the residents. We met with little resistance except for a few dissenters, calling out their disparagement of the Authority. Once I'd had these people publicly arrested, the other citizens fell into place, quietly giving up information.
They're a guarded people, the rebels. Almost all of them have a similar look, untidy, unkempt and starving. I wonder if Taran looked this way when she lived among them. I know she didn't eat enough, but otherwise her health and hygiene are good. She brushes her hair and teeth daily and insists on washing her hands before meals. She practically lives in the shower when she's not in the kitchen eating, but I suspect it's the hot water that draws her.
I rarely get the opportunity to visit the slums, and when I do, I complete my business quickly and leave. The experience this time around has been interesting. I've met with a variety of people, from angry dissenters to shy residents, to illegals cowering in their homes, expecting to be evicted from the city.
I used their terror against them, offering citizenship in exchange for information. When faced with the choice, most had given in. They have families to think of, wives and children. They gave up everything they could, spilling the beans on their neighbors, the rebellion, weaknesses in the city's defences, even the rebel leaders, most of whom are actual citizens. The only thing I hadn't gotten out of them was information on Taran, their Desert Wren. Their loyalty to her withstood every threat. She was the one that led them into Sanctuary, provided them with safe haven. Gave the clothes off her back and food from her mouth. Nothing I or my men said could convince them to betray her.
She should've been the rebel leader, not Gunther. They spoke of him with indifference, easily giving up his identity and anything else they had on him. Though he organizes the rebels, he isn't well loved among the common folk. It would seem that he has a philosophy of future thinking and grand plans. He's willing to sacrifice the individual in a bid to move the rebellion forward, a chance at overthrowing the city Authority.
In short, my opponent has weaknesses I can exploit. His philosophy isn't far off from mine. The difference is I have no thirst for power. No need to prove myself. I just am. His desperate search for followers, clawing his way to the top of the rebels, will also be his downfall.
He's organized this meeting at the request of his followers, to address the issue of their missing people smuggler and the recent outbreak of Primitives in the slums. I crouch on one knee as the throng of people gather on the floor below me. They're in the lowest level of the parking garage and I've placed myself on the floor above them. Murmurs reach my ears as more people join. I'm surprised to count maybe 70 people when Xavier finally arrives.
He makes his way through the crowd and climbs up on a concrete barrier and then steps over onto the roof of a car so he's above the crowd.
"Quiet," he shouts, holding his hands up and then lowering them to indicate the volume should decrease. Though the din quiets somewhat, whispered voices can still be heard throughout the enclosed space.
I snort my derision. Anyone that calls themselves one of the people, a rebel, would know to become part of the crowd. The rebels are looking for someone who understands them, takes up their cause because it's one they're familiar with. Instead they get Gunther, a man that holds himself above them and calls himself one of them. This is why the rebellion will ultimately fail. They need a real leader, much like the woman who remains trapped in my tower.
"We're gathering here today to discuss the recent sighting of Primitives," Xavier shouts over the crowd. Some of the whispers die away and people jockey in position to see him.
"We want to know what's happened to Taran!" a burly man in rags shouts back.
"Yes," says a woman standing next to the man, holding onto his arm. "Taran is dear to all of us and we want to know what's happened to her."
Xavier tries to keep his expression neutral, but even I can see his face twisting in annoyance from my position above him. "Taran is fine. But we need to focus on the issue at hand  "
"How do you know she's fine?" Someone else shouts. "Did you see ‘er?"
Xavier paces as he responds. "Yes, I've seen Taran. She's alive and well. She's working with me on a project. I'm keeping close tabs on our girl."
I stiffen at the way he speaks of my wife. I want to jump down onto his makeshift stage and confront him, tell him exactly who Taran belongs to. Instead I force myself to relax and listen. Taran is safe in my keeping. No one can touch her.
"I heard she got arrested!" A concerned woman's voice rises above the crowd. "They'd execute her if they got hold of her. She's too dear for us to allow that to happen. We have to do something, we have to get her back."
"No one's doing anything!" Xavier bites out viciously then stops speaking for a moment as he tries to reign in his temper. I don't like the idea of Taran around someone like this, a too quick to anger wannabe leader.
Before Xavier can speak again, a woman pulls herself up onto the hood of the car and holds her hands up. She has long grey hair and a knit cap. I wonder if she's the woman Taran described. People fall silent, as if recognizing someone they respect.
"I can assure you, Taran is perfectly fine. I saw her five days ago at the Day of the Dead ceremony."
"Then why hasn't she returned to us, Emery?" A voice rises above the crowd and a teenage boy pushes his way forward. "She's never taken off before."
Emery's face softens when she glances down at the boy, though her voice remains brisk. "She's on important business, Eric. She'll return as soon as she can. She loves all of us, she won't want to be away for long."
I feel some discomfort at this statement. It's not my intention to ever let Taran return here, to her roots. She's better than the slums. She's beautiful and intelligent. Yet these people have come to rely on her presence and support. I don't see how her two lives can be reconciled, the rebel leader vs. the Warlord's wife.
Xavier pipes up again, "There you have it, our Desert Wren is perfectly fine  "
Once again he's cut off when someone says, "Her name is Taran! She ain't no bird. The fucking police call her that, not her friends." He spits immediately after saying his piece, as though cursing the police force.
I grin. He's not far off. Most of them are a bunch of inept bumbling idiots. That's why I take only the best into my crew. Men with an impeccable record, focused, capable of doing the hard work I often insist of them.
"That's enough!" Xavier says furiously, finally losing his temper. "Taran is gone and she's not coming back any time soon. You'll be the first to know when our beloved bird has returned to the coop."
I raise my brow at his deliberately nasty dig. I see why Taran's marriage to this man didn't last. He's a self-centered power fiend, whereas she's kindness and grace personified. They would've clashed on every level. I wonder if she left him or if he left her? And how I can ask Taran without upsetting her. I haven't had a lot of experience with the more delicate side of women, but something tells me she won't take kindly to any suggestion that she was a deficient wife. She's already pissed off about my relentless campaign on her precious rebels.
"Now, back to business." Xavier claps his hands to get the attention of the surrounding people. "We need to be on guard. There are more police and military in the slums than ever. They say they're protecting us from the Primitives, but we know better."
A murmur rises up. The few snatches I can hear seem to indicate a real fear among the rebels. "But how do you know there aren't more?" one person asks, while another says, "We need protection if the Primitives come here." And another, "Poor Victoria was attacked and killed."
"Victoria was killed by Diogo Fuentes," Xavier shouts coldly. "She didn't deserve to die that way. We need to stop the Authority in this Sanctuary, bring it down, start over with an elected leader."
"And who exactly will that be? You?"
Xavier glares at the person who spoke. "Or someone else. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that we reinstate a fair system of government."
"But what about the Primitives?"
"We can't lose focus of our goal just because of one attack. Who knows, maybe the military let the Primitives in to distract us."
A collective gasp rises up and I have to control my anger. How dare he suggest such a thing?