Chapter 66: Diogo

I'm trying to read over a report on the wall progress, but I find my mind drifting back to my wife over and over. I can't help but smile over the way she manipulated her outing to the doctor. Her feistiness is one of her best qualities and I can't seem to find it in me to squash it. Especially after days of watching her grow progressively more listless, obsessing over Gunther's death and the fate of the rebellion without her.
Finally, I give up on the report and drop it on my desk. I'll get Stryker to give me a verbal report when he comes in from wall duty. I'm about to pack up and head back to the apartment to meet Taran after her appointment with the doctor when I'm interrupted.
"Commander?" Boss sticks his head in the office. "You're wanted in interrogation."
I frown, straightening from my desk. "Whose request?"
"Uh, mine," he says sheepishly.
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. I'm not wanted in any interrogation room unless I decide to be there myself.
"It's one of those Outsider prisoners, he's spent the week refusing to tell us anything beyond asking to be released. Now he wants to talk, only he's saying some strange things."
"I don't understand why this requires my personal attention, lieutenant," I say impatiently.
"He's been talking about your wife."
I leave the office so abruptly that Boss is forced to whirl around and run to catch up. "What exactly is he saying?"
"He's refusing to speak to anyone except you, Commander."
I grunt my acknowledgement and allow the lieutenant to show me to the interrogation room. The Outsider is chained to the table, his hands in front of him. He's worse for wear, his face and neck bruised, dried blood on his knuckles and under his nails. A full beard covers half his face and thick eyebrows are drawn low over sharp blue eyes. His stench hits me in a wave, and I make the decision to allow the prisoners picked up in the Primitive attack to bathe. When certain primary comforts, such as basic cleanliness, is taken away, it can often chip away at the morality of a prisoner, making them more likely to talk.
Given the attitude pouring off the mercenary, I would say he doesn't give a shit about the state of his personal hygiene. He's decided to talk for another reason. Before I can ask him for answers, he tells me.
"Been listening to the rumours gadding about this place." He snorts his derision. "Within a day I knew who was running this city. Two days I knew all the players. Three, I knew who the woman in the desert was." I growl a warning, but he ignores me. "Wife of the Warlord."
His eyes drift up my body, his gaze impersonal, uncaring. "Saw her leave the attack site at your side. Saw the way you took care of her."
"You're going to want to tread very carefully when speaking of my wife." I step closer to the table, pinning him with a stare. "I don't tolerate much when it comes to her."
He shrugs off my threat. "We're all the walking dead, Commander. It's just a matter of when and where. If my information can make life a little more bearable until death, then I'll speak my piece."
I drop into the chair opposite him. "Then speak. Tell me why your life is valuable to me."
"I recognized your wife out there in the desert. Something about the way she looks, a sort of familiarity."
"You've met my wife before?" I demand.
"No," he says firmly. "Not her."
"Then how do you know her?" I'm confused but there's something about this guy that draws me. I suspect he's telling the truth. He has motivation to lie, but my gut tells me he's not.
"I don't know your wife, your Desert Wren." He speaks her rebel name like he's familiar with the concept. I want to show him in no uncertain terms that he has no idea who my wife is. But I'm also deeply curious, needing to hear what he has to say. "I've met her sister."
"Impossible." I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, staring at him coldly. "Her sister is dead."
"That what your girl told you?" He leans back in his seat too, the chains on his wrists rattling. "She lied. Her sister is alive and well, or she was four years ago when I last saw her."
"Assuming I'm willing to believe that you aren't mistaken, where did you meet her? How did you get close enough to be sure in your assessment that she's Taran's sister?"
"She was my bounty, and I never forget a face," he says carelessly. "Her hair's a little darker than your girl's and she's taller. Maybe a little older, but definitely related. If not sisters, then cousins. Their faces are identical."
"Did you get a name?"
"Skye."
Fuck. I believe him. The details he's giving are too certain, too close to Taran's history to be wrong. Her name is the same too. It's too much of a coincidence that this woman isn't Taran's sister.
"How was she your bounty?" I demand.
"Was sent out to retrieve women of birthing age not affiliated with a Sanctuary and bring them in. She brought a good price. Young, pretty, feisty. The Warlord was eager to get his hands on that one, break that beautiful spirit. Rumour has it, she held out for months before he finally broke her down, integrated her into his harem."
I slam my fist down on the table, unable to hold my temper back. It could have just as easily been Taran at the mercy of a brutal Warlord.
Then the uncomfortable truth strikes me and I sit back down. Taran is at the mercy of a brutal Warlord. I don't know that Skye has it any better than Taran. I don't know anything about the girl and her Warlord. They could be happily married.
"What Sanctuary?" I demand.
He stares hard at me letting the silence hang between us. He held off, feeding me enough information that I would bite. Now he's withholding the last piece unless I bow to his demands. He's a smart one, this Outsider.
"You'll release me," he finally says.
"Done." I agree without hesitation. I'd expected this and it's an easy boon. Means nothing to me to turn an Outsider away from my city.
"I want my men released too."
"No." I can't have him rebuilding his army. They may be few in number, but they're filled with a brutal strength that could be a potential threat to the city.
He searches my face, as if trying to determine how far to push me. Then he shrugs. "Wasn't too fond of them anyway. I'll go it alone."
A true Outsider.
"I want my supplies back and a few new ones."
"You tell me where you sold Skye."
"Got nothing else I need or want," he tells me with a shrug.
"Fine, done. Now give me the Sanctuary."
"She's in Santa Fe." He rattles the cuffs again. "Now take these fucking things off. I need a shower and a meal and then I want the fuck out of here."