Savage Rule. Don Pendleton

I will not be held back by your weakness. The Race demands more. It deserves more.”

      “Just tread carefully,” Orieza said. “Remember what I have said.” He looked up at Del Valle as his adviser snatched the receiver and slammed it down on the cradle.

      “That miserable pig!” Del Valle hissed. “He could ruin everything!”

      “Roderigo…” Orieza said hesitantly, gazing directly at him for the first time since he’d entered the room.

      “You look terrible. Are you all right?”

      “I am fine,” Del Valle said sharply. He softened his tone, catching himself. “Please, General, think nothing of it. All is well. There are simply many things to monitor, many things I must keep a watchful eye on.”

      “Yes, I suppose that would be so,” Orieza said, sounding unconvinced. “But who is it that attacks us? Have they done us much harm?”

      “No, no, General.” Del Valle spread his hands, smiling broadly. “You know that a man like Castillo must always try to impress others with his great power. If he makes us believe he thinks us weak, he gains an advantage. We are in no danger, and our plans progress according to schedule. Our dream for our great nation progresses accordingly. There is no need to worry.”

      “But, Roderigo, I have doubts. I have heard from some of the men that the people are angry.”

      “Angry? Who told you that?”

      Orieza shrugged. “One hears things from the staff. Is it true that the elite guard are interrogating our own people?”

      “My men? Your bodyguards? That is absurd,” Del Valle lied. “Really, General, you must give this no thought. These are the kinds of rumors spread by the bored, the idle and the envious. You must know that your great power and popularity will bring unfair criticism.”

      “I suppose,” Orieza said, his forehead knotting. “I simply do not understand—”

      The intercom buzzed. Del Valle, grateful for the distraction, pressed the button before he could continue, and made a mental note of the fact that some people had been far too free in their conversation with Orieza. Roderigo would determine who the general had been listening to, and would make sure those persons disappeared permanently. Orieza was asking far too many inconvenient questions.

      “Yes?” he said, leaning over the intercom.

      Orieza’s secretary spouted a stream of apologies for interrupting, and then begged their pardons, but could Commander Del Valle take an urgent call from the field? One of his men had been trying to reach him for some time, she said, and she had delayed connecting the call for as long as she thought prudent.

      “Yes, yes,” Del Valle said testily. “Put it through.” He picked up the large receiver. “Yes?” he said again in Spanish.

      “Commander,” stated one of his field lieutenants, whose name escaped him at the moment. The soldier was out of breath, or frantic in some way, as if he was frightened or had run to reach the phone. “Sir, I must sound the alarm urgently, sir! There is great trouble here at the terminal!”

      “The pipeline terminal?” Del Valle demanded.

      “Yes, Commander, yes!”

      “Well?”

      “Sir…it…”

      “What, damn you?” Del Valle roared. “Spit it out, or I will wring your neck!”

      “Sir, the terminal burns.”

      “What?” Del Valle shouted. “What are you talking about?”

      “Sir—” The voice was cut short by a loud clap of sound, a noise Del Valle couldn’t escape.

      “Report!” he yelled. “Report, damn you!”

      The muffled click of the receiver being replaced in its cradle was the only reply.