Chapter 14 – Red Palace
After Delilah was properly dressed in the Arab style black pants, a long tunic, and a scarf, Logan took Boone and Delilah to what appeared to be a bar. It was only a few blocks from the apartment. As they entered, Boone and Delilah saw the clientele mainly consisted of American and European men. Then they saw the young local women and girls working as servers and prostitutes.
Delilah was confused seeing the scantily dressed women. “How do they do this? I thought the country still practiced stoning.”
“These girls, women, are orphans per se. They have foreign fathers who got their mothers pregnant and then left the country. After the children were born, the boys are enslaved to work menial labor, the girls are sold into either servitude or prostitution, but mainly prostitution,” Logan explained.
“And where are the mothers?” Delilah asked, fearing the worst.
Logan took a deep frightened breath and confirmed Delilah’s suspicions of honor killing. “They were stoned by their families; their fathers and brothers and uncles. It is a century's old practice. They had to reclaim their family’s honor.”
Delilah was angry. She had been born into a society which had regarded women as property. She had grown up fighting for women’s rights and suffrage. She had celebrated in the streets of Nashville, Tennessee still wearing her yellow rose with her fellow suffragettes when the last famous vote was cast to give women the right to vote. It had been a symbolic war of the roses. Those advocating women’s rights were wearing yellow roses and those opposing suffrage wearing red roses. It was August 18, 1920, Delilah’s fifty-first birthday. Of course, she did not look a day over twenty-five, then or now.
Biting her lower lip to hold her outrage Delilah looked towards Boone. Gazing at Boone, she saw something else in his eyes. Pity, sorrow, anger? Boone knew what it was like to grow up believing his mother was dead; his father never claiming Boone as his own, let alone acknowledging his very existence. Boone knew the pain of growing up without parents. He knew the pain of abandonment.
Delilah reached out her hand to touch Boone on the cheek and to wipe away the invisible tear on his face. His sorrow far outweighed her anger. Logan grabbed her hand mid-reach and in a harsh whisper told her, “No. No touching.”
“But this is a brothel. I am surrounded by hookers, and you are telling me not to touch the man I love; the man I am going to marry,” Delilah seethed. She could not understand why Logan was so cautious and restrictive of her actions.
“Not here,” Logan sternly warned. Glancing around the bar his eyes showed fear and suspicion. Logan knew not everyone in the establishment could be trusted. He knew many of the men around them would happily betray them for a price.
Delilah inhaled deeply but not to calm herself. She was about to give Logan a piece of her mind when she saw two men approaching the table. “Lamb,” the first man called out.
Logan jumped up to welcome him. “Santos,” Logan replied with a big smile pulling the man into his arms for a manly hug. “And Romas,” Logan exclaimed seeing the second man and hugging him as well.
“Sit, sit,” Logan insisted while motioned a server for a round of beer.
“Meet my friends,” Logan started and nodded towards Boone and Delilah. “Guys, meet Boone and Delilah. Boone and Delilah meet Santos and Romas.”
Boone extended his hand to Santos first. “Berto,” Santos stated while rolling the ‘R” and offering up his nickname. “Roberto Santos.”
“I am Diego Romas,” the second man stated extending his hand to Boone and introducing himself.
“Normally we just use last names here. It is a bad habit we learned in the military,” Santos stated as an explanation. “Some things never change.”
Both the men looked at Delilah and nodded. They knew having spent nearly a decade in the country not to extend their hand to her. They knew the repercussions. Delilah tried to feign a smile but failed. She merely nodded and looked back down towards the table while fidgeting with the end of her new acquired scarf. Delilah hated feeling like a second-class citizen and while she understood everyone’s precautions she had a difficult time playing the meek and quiet female. She fought the urge just to stand up and scream at the top of her lungs.
Moments later, a young girl of about thirteen arrived at the table with four bottles of European beer and a bottle of water. She placed the water in front of Delilah and walked away. “Water?” Delilah sneered. “Really?”
“By local law, alcohol is illegal. But the government as a whole overlooks it. They pretend it is not here. But the owner of the establishment would lose his right hand if he sold alcohol to a woman,” Diego explained. "It is a big disgrace to have a hand publically amputated."
“But the women working here are obviously drinking,” Delilah refuted looking straight at Diego. Then she whispered low enough for only Boone to hear, “This is worse than Prohibition.” She remembered the thirteen years of the U.S. Prohibition period. It was one of the reasons she had begun to love the sweet red wine she now drank. The laws had allowed the making and consumption of wine under the disguise of it being non-intoxicating fruit-juice. Delilah remembered buying the wine bricks, concentrated semisolid blocks of grape juice and after added water, allowing it to ferment. Just twenty days later it would turn into wine.
“They are the nameless,” Diego whispered as not to be overheard by the patrons or the girls in the bar. He did not want anyone to know Boone and Delilah were new to the country.
“The nameless?” Delilah asked her eyes crunched and hooded.
Diego continued to explain, “This country does not allow the bastard children to be named, to have birth certificates, or to be recognized as living, breathing human beings. To the government, they do not exist. They cannot go to school, marry or own property. You cannot arrest something which does not exist.”
“Now I am really starting to hate this country,” Delilah seethed while trying to keep her disgust and anger in check. But then she remembered the fight for the acceptance of the Equal Rights Amendment to the U.S. Constitution still occurring in her own country. Even after 101 years since it had first been introduced to Congress for ratification, it had not been approved. In essence, men and women would never be considered as equals. And in many countries, a caste system was still deeply rooted and continued to flourish.
“Just starting?” Berto chuckled.
“Daddy had better replenish the wine cellar before we get home,” Delilah whispered to Boone.
Boone laughed. He knew how much Delilah liked her father’s wine. Hell, even he was craving a tall glass of the sweet red wine. He was also craving Delilah’s touch. His mind jumped to a memory of the two of them curled up in front of their fireplace, entwined and basking in each other’s love. His laugh turned into a frown.
Delilah glanced at Berto. He was in his mid-thirties, just short of being six foot tall. He had a stocky build, muscular but not ripped. He appeared to be of Hispanic descent. His complexion was dark with dark eyes and hair. He wore his hair short, just slightly longer than a military buzz cut with about a week’s worth of beard on his chin and jaw; his mustache thin and well groomed. He wore a simple pair of faded jeans and a solid colored dark navy blue t-shirt.
She then looked towards Diego. He also was in his mid-thirties maybe a year or two older than Berto. Standing he was about five foot ten, thinner than Berto with a softer muscular tone. He had medium brown hair and light brown eyes. His hair was curly, and he wore it fairly short. Delilah could not determine his ancestry from his features or complexion but assumed it was European based on his surname, possibly Spanish and something else. He was clean shaven except for his mustache, also well kept and within military regulations. He also wore a pair of old jeans and a yellow t-shirt with the name of a local bank stamped on the front in red.
“You are both ex-military?” Boone asked the two. He needed to think of anything but D
elilah and holding her hand or pulling her into his arms.
“Navy Seal,” Berto whispered. “Romas was Army Special Forces.”
“So you both know a trick or two?” Boone mused with a grin.
“More like two or ten,” Diego chuckled arrogantly. “And we know the city. We have been here for nearly a decade.”
“Why?” Delilah asked.
“It is about the money,” Berto laughed. “We live quite well. So much better than the way we grew up.”
“Don’t you ever think about returning to the States?” Boone asked. “Don’t you miss home?”
“Neither of us has a home so to speak,” Berto started as his mood turned grim. “Both of us were raised in orphanages; me in Brazil and Romas in Columbia. We made our way to the States and joined the military so we could become U.S. citizens. We do not have any family; at least none that we know of. I am sure after this mission we will need to leave this country and start over somewhere else.”
“We have already arranged to have our money transferred to a bank in the Caribbean. We will decide later where to settle. We figure we will hit the islands and party for a month or three while we figure out our next gig,” Diego chuckled.
“Will a million dollars for each of you help?” Boone asked in a hushed tone.
Berto and Diego gasped and blurted out simultaneously. “What?”
“We are willing to pay you both a million dollars for your help. We will fly you both out of the country,” Delilah added. “Once we arrive back home, we will have the money transferred. Be ready to leave once we get Lucy. We will be going straight to the rendezvous point just across the border and flying home from there.”
Both men raised their brows and nodded. “Let’s make our plans,” Diego smiled.
Logan stood and laid the payment for their drinks on the table. “Let’s go somewhere a bit more private,” Logan suggested. “Meet us at my apartment in thirty minutes.” Logan, Boone, and Delilah left together.
Diego and Berto stayed long enough for the second round of beer and then departed, making their way to Logan’s apartment.
By the time Diego and Berto arrived, Logan had already drawn the layout of the palace and the surrounding grounds. He knew the best way in and out of the palace as he had worked for the Prince for nearly three years. The five discussed the best way to get into the palace and to get Lucy out. They decided who would take out the dogs, the patrols and the guards outside Lucy’s room. They discussed contingencies for every possible scenario; every possible roadblock. All they needed was weapons.
“We have got some friends,” Berto assured Boone and Delilah.
“So do I,” Delilah smiled. “I will make a few calls and see what I can find. I do need to go out tomorrow to pick up a few things.”
“I will get one of the ladies to take you,” Logan offered. “Just keep your scarf on.”
“I will go with you,” Boone insisted.
“No,” Delilah quickly refuted. “I need to do this alone.”
Boone was not pleased. He knew Delilah could protect herself. But still, he did not want to spend one moment away from her. But he also knew she had secrets either she could not or would not share with him. He had to trust she knew what she was doing. He had to believe she was keeping him safe by keeping him in the dark about some of the things in her past as well as her government contacts. He just did not know how far her contacts reached and that scared him the most. How powerful were her friends? Could they protect her?
Boone frowned and took a deep breath. Biting his top lip, he stayed silent.
Delilah could sense Boone’s fear. “I will take one of the ladies with me. I just need to pick up a few things in the marketplace.”
“I will set it up with the lady who bought your clothes,” Logan informed everyone. “We can trust her.”