Page 97 of Four Cards Exposed

Mendoza sounded like he was wrapping up his speech. He probably realized, from the expressions of the men, that he’d droned on a bit too long. Their expressions had shifted, continued shifting in the flickering light of the fires and the lanterns. Their bodies inched forward towards the center of the circle, seeking—something.

Excitement.

Blood.

Something out of the ordinary.

Mendoza had turned them into the enemy. No, not even the enemy. He’d turned them into something less than human in the eyes of these men, something to be disposed of.

James still looked calm—calm and in control. He was staring at the men like this had nothing to do with him, like he was an observer in all of this, nothing more. But Susan didn’t miss the way his arms strained towards her. He was standing as close to her as his bindings would allow him to.

If her own arms weren’t tied behind her back, she’d be able to reach out and touch him.

He’d told her she was brave, but she was the opposite of brave. She’d pissed herself in fear, back in the box, and would probably have done so again here, except she hadn’t been given anything to drink all day.

She thought of Miguel Mendoza—of the mild-mannered man she’d met back in Maine. She’d actually liked him. She’d felt sorry for him. She hadn’t seen him at all—she’d only seen the mask he wore, the one he wanted people to see.

Mendoza asked his men to choose.

Uno o dos.

Uno.

Dos.

He didn’t explain the choice, but the men seem to know what he meant. That’s why they were so excited.

They’ve done this before.

Susan imagined this is what it must have been, for slaves at the Roman Coliseum.

“Dos!” the crowd roared. It was unanimous.

Mendoza turned towards them, his smile brighter than she’d ever seen it.

Susan shivered, taking a step backwards—cowering, despite herself. She tried to wet her lips, stopped when she realized her mouth was completely dry.

This is it.

This is how we die.

James growled beside her. His arms strained against the chain binding him to the post, muscles rippling in the reddish light of the torches.

“Fight me like a man, Mendoza!” James shouted. “Let your men see who’s leading them!”

Susan understood what James was trying to do. Rile Mendoza up, get him to make a mistake. She also saw, from the way Mendoza’s eyes narrowed, that it wasn’t going to work.

“My men know what the two of you are. You are traitors—the lowest of the low. I would have cut off both your heads and left your bodies to rot in the jungle. But, my men have voted for option two.”

“What’s option two, you demented fuck?” James asked. Was that some of his control slipping away? Whatever it was, whatever Mendoza could see in James’s eyes, he was drinking it in.

“Option two,” Mendoza said, turning towards her, “is you.”

James growled again.

“What are you doing, Mendoza? You said you’d let her go. You said—“

“I said you could save her life if you came. I told the truth.”